Finn
Watching Aoife in the kitchen was almost as hot as watching her writhe underneath me.
Yeah, fucked up, but true.
She was so graceful in there that I got a kick out of watching her work, and there was the added bonus of the meals she created.
It was probably chauvinistic of me to get so turned on by the fact she loved cooking and baking, because it was so ultra-feminine. But it was what it was.
It wasn’t like I had a say in how hot I found it that she loved the whole domestic Goddess shit, and it wasn’t like I was about to tie her to the stove or hand her a mop and bucket—we had a team of housekeepers that would do anything and everything to maintain the penthouse. And, if she didn’t want to, she didn’t have to cook. I’d eaten before her, and we’d eat without her being in charge of the kitchen.
I knew, though, that she’d get pissy if I even made the suggestion. Something about cooking relaxed her, and watching her in here was like watching a dancer in motion.
A part of me knew she liked feeding me, too. Maybe it was an Irish thing. Who the fuck knew?
As she stirred a pot that had her cheeks flushing from the heat, I watched her a second before I averted my attention to my laptop.
Acuig Heights was due for demolition in three weeks’ time, and my project managers were quarrelling on instant messenger. They didn’t need my input, but I kept an eye on things—I always did.
My phone rang and spying Declan’s name, I quirked a brow. Of all the brothers, he called me the least. Not because we weren’t close, but Declan wasn’t close to anyone. He was quiet, kept his head down, and did his job. I loved him, but he could be a boring bastard.
“Dec, what’s up?” Not only was it weird that he’d called me, but it was late for him, too.
“There’s been another robbery.”
Well, fuck.
I hissed between my teeth. “Where?”
“The strip joint on Fourth.”
We had six in this area, and while they weren’t in my official purview, this current issue was a Family problem. That meant all our necks were on the line if we didn’t try to fix it up.
“Has Eoghan pinpointed where their base is?”
“No. The bastards have managed to keep things tight. But you know why. They’ll be working with the Mexicans. We’re approaching gang warfare, Finn.”
My brother’s tone was grim and for a reason. I ran a hand through my hair as I leaned over the counter and pressed my elbow to it. Ducking my head, I countered with, “We need help from the Russians.”
Aoife released a deep breath, and I knew she was listening. It didn’t make me get up and move, though. I didn’t want her involved in the business, but I needed her to know how in danger she was before she married me.
Our vows would be to the death.
There was no out with a Catholic marriage, and there was no out from a Points man.
I’d never let her go. I couldn’t. But I needed her to be aware. Aware helped her be, as she’d told me the other day on the ride back from Aidan’s place, prepared for every eventuality.
Declan cursed. “Those pricks can’t be trusted.”
“And the Latinos can?” I ground out. “At least they run shit like we do.”
“No fucker runs things like we do.”
“Is your Pa there?”
“Yeah. ‘Course. He had me call you. He’s fucking foaming. Pricks sliced this chick up good.”
“They killed someone?” Rage buzzed inside my brain.
“Yeah. One of the girls. Made a real mess of her. It’s a message.”
“It’s a fucking catalyst.” Rubbing my temple, I grated out, “You need me there?”
“No. But Pa wanted me to tell you there’s a meeting tomorrow at four AM.”
“Got it.” I didn’t wince at the timing. Aidan worked all hours, and we’d grown accustomed to that a long time ago. “The house or his office?”
“House. He’s too pissed to go in. I suggested we stay at the house.”
What that meant was ‘Aidan couldn’t be around anyone that wasn’t family without wanting to throttle them.’
Aidan had trust issues. Quite naturally, I thought, but those trust issues reared their head when there was a threat. This was a level ten on our Richter scale of disasters, and that meant Aidan would go off half-cocked on anyone he thought might be working against us.
We routinely flushed out rats. Be they DEA, NYPD, FBI, or even other spies from other gangs, but at times like these, there could be a witch hunt brewing, and spreading our focus would do none of us any good. Keeping Aidan at home would work to our advantage in that.
Aidan was capable of intense hyper-focus. We just needed to make sure that was aimed at the outside threats first and foremost.
“I’ll be there.”
“See ya, bro.”
We cut the line, and I stared down at my lap for a second, not wanting to lift my head just yet. When I heard soft steps, I peered over at Aoife and asked, “You hear any of that?”
She wrinkled her nose. “Was I supposed to?”
I tilted my head to the side. “Good question. To me, you can say yes. If Aidan or my brothers ever ask you that, you say no. You play dumb. Got me? You’re safe with them, but not with Aidan Sr. He’s a live wire.”
She grimaced. “You think I hadn’t figured that out?”
“You’re too smart for your own good.” I scraped my hand over my head. “If they ever ask you a direct question, don’t lie. If you think you can, prevaricate.” The no-lie rule wasn’t just for the men but for their women, too. “Aidan isn’t a total sexist prick, but he has outdated ideas. If you act like you can’t add two plus two, he’ll skim over you and look at me to answer any questions.”
“That sucks.”
“That’s life in the Five Points.” I blew out a breath. “Look, about tomorrow morning–”
She waved a hand. “I don’t need a ring.”
“You fucking do,” I growled at her. “I want everyone to know you’re mine, Aoife.” More than anything, I wanted her father to see the ring when she visited him in the afternoon.
Her lips curved. “Want a tattoo on my forehead? Property of Finn?”
“Finn O’Grady,” I corrected. “Let’s make sure they know not to fuck with you.”
She smirked, and her smart-assery lightened my heart some. I hadn’t expected this resilience from her. She wasn’t panicking, and she had overheard some heavy shit.
After clearing her throat, she asked, “Who died?”
“One of our girls.”
A grimace marred her face. Most women in the life never liked to think about the prostitution racket that was part of the Family’s side business. It wasn’t something I liked either, truth be told.
Having been abused myself, I hated to think of anyone in that position, but Aidan ran a tight ship on that score. We protected the girls, paid them well. We had a ring of girls to suit any and all pay ranges, and fuck, if any of the Johns, be they millionaires or misers, hurt one of our own? They paid the price. Dearly.
I knew whoever had been foolish enough to hurt this particular whore would probably have their balls cut off before they died.
Having seen Aidan do it before, I was under no illusion he’d do it again. And worse. Especially if there was a tie to the Colombians as Declan suggested.
Rubbing my chin, I predicted, “There’s going to be a war.”
Her sharp inhalation stung me. “R-Really? I remember the last one.”
I jerked my chin. “In ’09?”
“Yeah. Mom was terrified when I left the building, even to go to school.”
“Smart woman,” I admitted. “The Haitians were small fry by comparison, though. These are Colombians . . .” I ran a hand through my hair. “I want you to have your bakery, Aoife.”
She frowned. “I know you do, Finn.”
“I’m just not sure if this is the best time for it.”
That had her tilting he
r head to the side. “I can see that.”
“W-Would you hold off for now?”
She stared at me, her eyes drifting over my face as she took me in. I don’t know what she saw, but her bright-green eyes grew soft as she rounded the counter and cupped my chin. “Thank you for being honest with me and not laying down the law.”
My lips curved. “Don’t thank me yet.”
A snicker escaped her. “You mean, you’ll lay down the law if I don’t agree?”
My stomach felt like it was loaded with stones. “I can’t lose you,” I rasped, and both of us were taken aback by the intensity in my voice.
She licked her lips, then leaned forward and pressed a kiss to my mouth. “I’m not going anywhere.”
I bit her bottom lip, reminding her she belonged to me. “Good.”
Pressing my forehead to hers, I closed my eyes and felt her soft breath against my mouth. “Can we hold off on the bakery?”
“We can. Not forever, though?”
I liked that she tried to reason with me, and I wasn’t an unreasonable man. “Not forever,” I confirmed. “The last thing I want is you cooped up in here, Aoife. I just want you safe, and I can’t lie to you, it isn’t safe at the moment.”
“I understand, Finn, truly I do.”
A relieved breath escaped me. “I’m glad.”
“I need to visit my dad tomorrow, Finn.”
Her words had me tensing. “I know.” After clearing my throat, I stated, “Samuel will take you, and I’ll have someone ride with you, too.”
I knew she didn’t like the sound of that, but I didn’t, either. There were a lot of changes heading Aoife’s way, and I was scared they’d frighten her off.
I could be an obnoxious bastard, but even I knew someone could only withstand so much.
Aoife had lost her business, been coerced into a sexual relationship with me. Then I’d proposed, and now there was a gang war heading our way that necessitated her traveling with security for a while. . . .
If that wasn’t a culture shock, even for someone who knew how the gang worked, then I didn’t know what was.
“All right,” she told me, and I pressed a kiss to her mouth in thanks.
I wasn’t stupid. Aoife wasn’t biddable. She was in bed, but not anywhere else. I’d learned that at the Donnelly’s dining table yesterday. She hadn’t quivered or quaked under Aidan’s scrutiny, and she’d held her own with my brothers.
For any woman to do that?
She had balls of steel. I just hoped she wouldn’t run scared from all the changes that were heading our way.
❖
Aoife
The hotel receptionist smiled at me. I’d been coming here for so long now that everyone here knew me, and I was under no doubt that they assumed the same as Finn had—that I was screwing the Senator.
It was an expensive place, though. Classy and discreet were its promise. Boutique in size, it catered to diplomats and politicians in the city, and I knew its motto was secrecy.
God only knew what went down in these walls, but even the housekeepers knew not to talk. Now that I thought about it, I wondered if a Family ran this place.
Such discretion?
Money couldn’t buy it, only threats could. And whose expertise ran in threats? The mob.
Still, if they were in charge, I could imagine cameras recording shit, and blackmail threats in the mail.
My lips curved at my vivid imaginings as my boots crushed the thick carpet when I strode across the foyer toward the banks of elevators.
Alan, Dad, had the same room each time, and I never had to ask to go up. It was a standing arrangement.
William had followed me inside, but he was staying in the lobby. As I headed into an elevator and turned around, I nodded at him when he took a seat on one of the sofas, pulling a paper from his leather coat.
He was in his fifties, had a scar that ran down the left side of his throat, and looked like the archetypal mobster if I was being honest. Discreet he was not, but I figured that was the point of security.
What use was there in having a heavy following you around if no one knew you were protected?
I’d seen the gun in his holster when he’d opened the car door for me this morning. His jacket had pulled open, and the weapon had glinted in the light. I was under no illusion that the man knew how to use it, too.
A part of me wondered why I wasn’t freaking out.
The last time I’d met my dad, I was single, and had a growing reputation in the city. I’d also been desperately lonely, lost after my mother’s death, and floundering.
Now?
Everything had changed. Everything. Me included.
Finn brought something to my life that I’d never realized I’d been missing. There was a fire in my belly now. Sure, his world scared the shit out of me. The news of a war coming to town? I was fucking petrified that either he or I would get caught in the cross fire—it was why I’d agreed to postpone my plans for the bakery.
Though Finn brought danger to my world, he also brought life.
It was like I’d seen everything in sepia before him, and suddenly, everything sparkled with vibrant colors.
The height of insanity?
Maybe.
But I was happy.
Really happy, and God, it made me wonder when the last time I’d felt that way was.
As the elevator purred to a halt, I stepped out into the corridor and walked toward the room my father had hired for us.
I opened it and stepped inside, knowing it would be unlocked in preparation for me. The room, as always, was empty. He arrived after I did. We’d tried to keep things hush-hush, but apparently, hadn’t done that great a job of it if Finn had managed to figure out what we were doing.
Should I tell Dad that we’d been caught? If I did, it would make him doubt Finn, and I really didn’t need his approval or disapproval. He was my father, I knew, but we had more of a friendship than a father-daughter relationship. He’d been a stranger for too long for me to allow him to have a heavy hand over my life, but I didn’t want to argue. I saw him little enough as it was, and I didn’t want to waste time on something that was going to happen whether he liked it or not.
The next time he saw me, I could be Aoife O’Grady, and that was that.
The suite was comfortable and elegant. The bedroom was separate from the living room where we always sat. A large window overlooked a small gated garden, and there were two sofas opposite each other with two ornate armchairs, the kind that had golden scrollwork as a frame with horsehair cushions, flanking them.
On the coffee table, there was a tray of tea and a selection of sandwiches and cakes.
I took a seat in my usual place, the sofa that overlooked the park, and grabbed my phone to wait for him.
Dad only ever made me wait ten minutes tops, so I didn’t have much time to kill.
I had two messages. One from Finn and the other from Jenny. The sight of the latter’s name had me grimacing because I realized I hadn’t exactly been communicative of late. Finn had steamrolled his way into my life, and I’d been absorbed in him. That wasn’t fair to Jenny, though. I’d been a shitty friend.
Well, not totally shitty.
I knew she’d be a pain in the ass when I shared what was happening between Finn and me and, truth be told, I was putting the confrontation off.
Jenny could be a bitch sometimes, and I had no doubt that she’d be bitchy when I revealed my new status as an engaged woman.
Sometimes, my neighborhood was ridiculously old-fashioned. The Irish ways, though many of us hadn’t even visited the old country, still ran true like we were back in the eighteen hundreds.
It was nuts, but I knew Jenny would be jealous as hell about my news.
Finn: You get there safe?
Me: Yep. Just arrived.
Finn: Billy treat you okay?
That had me cocking a brow.
Me: How should he have treated me?
Finn: With al
l the deference owed to a woman who belongs to me.
I snorted at that.
Me: Belong to you now, do I?
Finn: You know it, and you fucking love it.
Because I could imagine his smirk, I squirmed a little in my seat. He said incendiary things that should have had me blowing my top, but they just made me melt. It was all kinds of weird, but the way he talked got me so hot, I wanted to burrow into his arms and never let go.
Me: Maybe.
Bigheaded jerk.
Finn: Only maybe…? I’ll have to remind you of that tonight.
I shuddered.
Me: Please?
Finn: My pleasure.
I could imagine his purr as he murmured that.
Crossing my legs to assuage the sudden ache that had sprung up out of nowhere, I began to type out another message: You make me ache, but then I deleted it. He knew that already, and the words weren’t what I wanted to say, anyway.
I wanted to tell him that I needed him, but I didn’t want to freak him out even though a part of me recognized he needed me to need him.
He craved it.
Finn was a control freak.
When I’d hidden in his closet that first day, I’d been too scared to notice, but he had everything organized by use and then color. The man had more clothes than I did. He had drawers with rolled up ties that reminded me of the opening sequence of Fifty Shades of Grey, then he had another drawer with socks, and another one with cufflinks and watches.
His wardrobe was any woman’s wet dream. But the man in the clothes from the wardrobe was a sinner’s paradise.
The penthouse was organized, too. The fridge done in a way I’d had to figure out at first. Nobody stored onions next to Nutella . . . they either went in a cool, dry cupboard or in the chiller section at the bottom of the fridge, right?
Nope.
Not Finn.
Apples went side by side with BBQ sauce, and a jar of pickles was followed by those microwaveable pots of brown rice—who put rice in the fridge?
Finn did.
Why?
Because everything was in alphabetical order.
I mean, his cupboards were full of food, too, and they were in the same order, but there were just random things stored side by side. As though only he understood the way of it, and ironically enough, I knew he didn’t cook for himself. Didn’t even go grocery shopping for himself, for Christ’s sake. Had he asked a housekeeper to arrange that stuff for him? He had to have.
Screw You: A Screwed Duet (Five Points, Hell's Kitchen Book 1) Page 16