Screw You: A Screwed Duet (Five Points, Hell's Kitchen Book 1)

by Serena Akeroyd

  I scowled at him. “Aoife is not pregnant.” I glared at her when she choked back a giggle. “Tell him, Aoife.”

  Her lips curved. “I’m not pregnant.”

  Sighing, I mumbled, “You could have said that with more conviction.”

  She snickered, and Father Doyle glared at her disapprovingly. “You think it’s a laughing matter to be with child?”

  “No, Father, but Finn’s reaction was too amusing not to laugh.”

  Father Doyle narrowed his eyes. “Your parents are dead?”

  She stiffened, and because I knew her secret, I knew why. “Yes.”

  “Shame, shame, for two good Catholic souls to be taken from their daughter while she’s so young. They were, I presume, Catholic?” That was what he really wanted to know.

  “Indeed, Father. Both of them. My parish is over on Hawk Avenue.”

  Doyle stiffened. “You’re a part of Father James’ flock?”

  “Yes.”

  “When was your last confession? We stick with the old ways here, Aoife. I know Father James is very slack on that front.”

  She cleared her throat. “A while ago?”

  Doyle tsked. “We’ll have to remedy that.”

  I shot her a sympathetic look, and she grimaced at me, then tightened her fingers about mine.

  The priest’s office was dour, cold, and very, very brown. Except for the avocado green desk chair he sat in, one that he’d used since he’d first accepted me into his flock after I’d run from home. Everything was the same. Old and worn.

  The walls were clad with wooden panels which made the room even grimmer, and a set of three windows looked out onto a street.

  It was like stepping into the seventies when you came in here, and outside was the promise of the return to the modern world.

  “I’m sure, Father. I’ll be attending on Sunday if that’s okay?”

  “More than okay, my child,” Doyle said, beaming at her.

  I’d told Aoife that Sunday service was an important part of life for all of us. Even Conor, who’d broken his parents’ heart by coming out as an atheist.

  When that had happened, I honestly thought Aidan would have preferred him to come out as gay. And Aidan was one of the biggest homophobes I’d ever encountered. He was of the ‘Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve’ belief. But then, he was old-school. So old-school he belonged in this office with the rest of the time warp.

  When I’d told her of the duty we’d now be performing as a couple, she’d moaned, “No sleeping in?”

  I’d grinned. “Nope.”

  Doyle grumbled under his breath. “Still, this expediency is very strange, Finn. You’re certain you’re not with child, Aoife.”

  “Very certain, Father.”

  “To bypass the calling of the banns, you know how traditional we are, Finn.”

  “I do, Father, but as I’m sure you can understand, I want Aoife protected.”

  The old coot pursed his lips—Father Doyle wasn’t as old as the church, but he was as decrepit. He steepled his fingers as he narrowly avoided the fact he knew exactly what I, and the rest of the Donnellys, did for a living.

  “Your father’s been in touch with me,” he murmured. “I thought I was going to see him today.”

  “Business called,” I retorted shortly, knowing that even though I’d have loathed Aidan being here, witnessing this as he’d promised last Sunday, I’d have preferred that to his reason for canceling on us.

  Some Colombian shitheads had hit another one of our protected businesses—a jewelry store.

  Aidan asked for a protection fee from most stores in the area, but unlike most Families, he actually gave a damn. Whatever was taken on his watch, he refunded.

  That meant every crime the Colombians committed on our territory was a hit to our wallet.

  I was almost certain that they wouldn’t be doing this if they’d known that particular salient fact.

  Doyle drummed his fingers against the table. “Wouldn’t you like a big white wedding, Aoife?” he badgered, making me roll my eyes at his attempt to lengthen our engagement.

  “No, Father. It wouldn’t be right, anyway. Not with my mother. . . . I should still be in black, after all.”

  I had to hide a laugh at that—Aoife, as she was wont to do—had a habit of reading a situation and reading it well.

  To anyone else, the idea of wearing black for a year after a loved one’s death was beyond ridiculous. To Doyle? Well, let’s put it this way, when Aidan’s mother had died ten years ago, if we hadn’t attended church with a black band around our arms, Doyle would have sent us home.

  In his own way, this man had more power in this parish than anyone else. He had the Rottweiler that was Aidan Sr. at his beck and call, after all.

  That was why it was important Aoife impress him. It sure as fuck wasn’t for my benefit.

  Doyle sighed at Aoife. “I see no justifiable reason for doing without the banns, but in these circumstances, I will wave it.”

  “Much appreciated, Father,” I replied, smiling at him and feeling a huge chunk of relief.

  It was ridiculous, considering my business, how much time I wasted in this church, and yet it was as integral to my work as it was sitting in my office.

  Nuts.

  Aoife squeezed my hand as Doyle told us some of the available dates for the event, and together, we worked out when we’d be getting hitched.

  I’d never imagined I’d actively want to tie myself up with a ball and chain, but Jesus, Aoife was so beyond different. I didn’t feel hemmed in, didn’t feel like she was overtaking my life. Hell, I wanted more of her. Wanted her with me all the goddamn time. It was an ache, a constant goddamn ache that I should be ashamed to admit to.

  But with Aoife?

  Everything made sense.

  My inner monster, the fucker that could shoot someone with no compunction, end a life or tear someone a new asshole, was at peace. I slept better. I wasn’t drinking as much because, God, help me, I didn’t need to with her in my life.

  I wanted her tied to me in so many ways she’d never be able to be rid of me.

  Where Aoife was concerned, not getting her bound to me ASAP would be the height of idiocy, and Finn O’Grady was many, many things, but an idiot he was not.

  ❖

  Aoife

  “This is bullshit.”

  I frowned at Jenny. “Don’t talk to me like that, Jenny.”

  She raised her arms and encompassed the building we were standing in. “You’re going to put off your dreams for him.”

  “No, I’m not.” I clucked my tongue at her. “This place doesn’t exactly have potential tenants lining up to take over the lease, and it’s only for a short time.”

  She sniffed. “You said you’d never let any man stop you from doing what you want.”

  “And Finn isn’t—”

  “Bullshit, you’ve been dating him like four weeks and now you’re getting married? And he’s asking you not to get started on the bakery? What the fuck is that about, Aoife?”

  I resented that she thought I was too much of a dumb bitch to see the bigger picture. Finn was not manipulating me. I knew that like I knew Jenny was spitting fire at me now because she was jealous.

  And it was for a stupid reason, too.

  I knew Jenny thought Finn was hot, but more than that, it was to do with the fact that I’d be getting married first.

  Being someone’s wife had never been on my to-do list. It really hadn’t been an issue for me if I were to never marry at all. Definitely an anti-Catholic sentiment, but I wasn’t exactly devout. Mom would have liked me to settle down, so I could have kids, but, shock, horror, I didn’t need kids to make me feel like I’d lived my life.

  Not that I’d have told her that.

  She’d probably have thought she’d raised me wrong. Either that or would have asked me if I was, gasp, a lesbian.

  Jenny, though, was just jealous because she was the kind of girl who’d been dreaming of
her wedding day since she was four and had learned that men and women got married.

  It didn’t help that Finn was gorgeous, loaded, and seemingly head over heels for me when he’d seen Jenny at the same time.

  It sounded so petty in my head, but that was the gist of it. Jenny wasn’t happy for me, and she was showing that now.

  I was pissed at her stupidity, to be honest. Pissed that she was letting the fact I was going to be married first get between us. Who did that?

  Christ, I’d only said yes to Finn because of who he was. Not just his status as a Five Points man, but because, internally, he was a possessive man. I knew he wouldn’t have stopped asking me until I said yes, and even if he thought he was mature enough to let me walk away—like he’d done three nights ago by letting me in on the fact there was a war brewing—he never would.

  I was his.

  Had been since he’d figured out I was a virgin.

  Was I enamored with the fact he’d put his stamp on me because he’d taken my hymen? Nope. But I was touched by the respect he gave me because of it. That kind of chivalry didn’t exist that much anymore. Having a cherry to pop was more of a hindrance than anything else, but not to Finn. He’d put me up on a pedestal because of that, and I was charmed by it.

  So, rather than be happy for me, Jenny was just being a Bridezilla. Without the fiancé.

  “Finn isn’t going to put a halt to my dreams, Jenny. I will make this bakery, but there’s shit you don’t know.”

  “Shit like what?” she sneered.

  Jenny wasn’t a stupid woman, even if she was being really fucking stupid now. She knew what my next words signified, “Finn’s a Points’ man.”

  Her mouth dropped open, and her arms, still raised to encompass the building, dropped to her side. “He’s one of them?”

  I dipped my chin brusquely. Maybe this wasn’t wise to talk about, but I wasn’t about to have a fall out over this.

  Jenny and I had been friends for too long to let a man get between us, and it wasn’t like she wouldn’t figure shit out quickly. If there were bodies suddenly piling up in morgues around here, the gossip mills would already be churning.

  Because she’d lost her position with me, she’d picked up a waitressing job at a diner around the corner to tide her over—soon enough, news would pass around the tables there, and everyone would know a war had come to our streets.

  “Fuck, Aoife,” she rasped, her eyes wide, pupils dilated. “Aren’t you scared?”

  My lips curved. “No.” The question amused me because I knew she’d dated several Points men in the past.

  “But he’s dangerous.”

  I shrugged. “Not to me. And he isn’t a danger to my dreams, either. Something’s happening, Jenny,” I warned her, and she winced.

  “Don’t tell me. I don’t want to know.”

  “I wasn’t going to tell you,” I retorted. “I don’t have that much to share. Finn just told me to hold off on getting this place. That’s all I know.”

  Her mouth firmed into a perfect O. “Is this to do with that stripper that died a few nights ago?”

  “Do you really want to know?”

  She swallowed. “Is shit about to go down?”

  I nodded, not about to lie to her on that score. “There’s no need to worry about this place, either,” I informed her. “I’m getting the deeds as a marriage gift.”

  “What?” she squeaked. “He’s buying you this place?”

  I’d prefer her to think it was Finn than know the gift was actually from Aidan Donnelly. I didn’t want her to know how close to the inner circle Finn was.

  None of us knew how the Five Points worked. They were secretive, and though we knew who was aligned with them, we didn’t know the inner circles. Only members did.

  Aidan Donnelly was the face of it, and only then because everyone was fucking scared of him and what he was capable of.

  He was like a human bulldog with rabies. Everyone knew to avoid his bite. Just not the people who were messing with his business, it would be seem.

  I didn’t even have it in me to feel sorry for them. They’d killed an innocent woman to get back at the Points. They deserved whatever evil was coming their way.

  “What are we doing here then if you’re not getting this place ready?” Jenny asked, and I was glad my revelation had jerked her out of her sulk. She peered over her shoulder at the two men standing outside the store front. “Is that who the other guy is? I figured he was with the real estate guy.”

  My lips twitched. “You thought Billy was in real estate? He’s my guard.” I had to laugh at that, and though she pouted at my amusement, she started snickering, too.

  With his scar and the bulge at his shoulder, Billy looked more like he was prepped for a bank robbery than a tour around a vacant property. But, he was my guard. He was here to keep me safe not to look pretty.

  “Okay, so my eyes were definitely not focusing right when I came to that conclusion.”

  “Ya think?” I joked. Then, I sobered and murmured, “I wanted to see all of it again before Finn bought the place for me. Now I have, now that I’m certain I want it, I feel comfortable letting Finn get involved.”

  She gnawed on her bottom lip. “Am I ever going to meet this Finn?”

  “You already have,” I teased.

  “Once,” she pshawed. “That’s not enough. I need to vet him, make sure he’s good enough for my BFF.”

  “He’s busy, Jen. But you’ll see him at the wedding.”

  She grunted. “That sucks.”

  “Such is life,” I told her with no apology.

  Maybe I was being a bit mean, but I didn’t appreciate how she’d acted earlier. I wasn’t a little girl, and she wasn’t my mom.

  “I can’t believe you’re getting married, Aoife,” she murmured, her gaze glued to her feet.

  “Me, either.”

  She peered at me under her thick lashes. “You sure you’re not making a mistake?”

  I shrugged. “Who knows? I just know I’m happy, and after everything with Mom. . . .” I released a shuddery breath when I thought back to not just how she’d died, but the fact she wasn’t here anymore. “It’s good to be happy again, Jen.”

  She strode forward and wrapped me in a hug. “Okay, then I’ll stop being a bitch and be happy for you, too.”

  “Thanks,” I whispered, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “That means a lot.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Finn

  “You’re not inviting any family to the wedding?”

  I frowned at Aoife. “I don’t have any family save for the Donnellys, and they’re trouble enough, trust me.”

  Her chin jerked up as she pondered that, then she shrugged. “Okay.”

  “Your dad can’t come, can he?”

  She shook her head. “No. But . . . he does want to meet you.”

  I cocked a brow at that. She’d never mentioned her dad or their meeting, and because I knew there was no secret there, I hadn’t pried. It wasn’t in my nature to want to know where she was, who she was seeing, what she was doing, twenty-four seven.

  I was possessive and cautious about her safety. I wasn’t an overbearing asshole.

  If she didn’t want to tell me something, I could handle it.

  “He does?” I reached for the coffee cake she’d plated up for me a moment ago—I swear, I could live in this kitchen for the rest of my life. Trouble was, they’d have to roll me out of here. “I figured he’d want to keep things on the down-low.”

  “He does, but I told him I trusted you with his identity.”

  She’d never had a choice in the matter . . .

  For that reason, I asked, “Do you?”

  Her back was to me because she was at the stove, but she turned her head to look at me. “Of course. I figure you’d have told Aidan before now, and he’d have contacted Alan and made his demands if that had been your intention all along.”

  True.

  Did that mean she did trus
t me? Had faith in me?

  Fuck. That mattered so much to me.

  “What’s his deal then?”

  She licked her lips. “He said that he’d tell me his schedule. He wants to meet at a party. You know? Keep things quiet and easy.”

  I thought about that, figured it made sense. “I’m not exactly the kind of guy who attends charity galas, but to meet him, we can go. Before or after the wedding?”

  “When schedules allow, I guess.”

  “You told him when we were getting hitched?”

  “I texted him and he called me back immediately. He about bust a gut,” she said on a laugh, then she shrugged. “Tough.”

  Billy had told me that Jenny and she had argued while they were visiting the bakery yesterday. Aoife hadn’t mentioned that, either.

  “What did Jenny say about the date?”

  Another shrug. “That it was too fast, but I told her you make me happy.”

  “That true?” I was like a broken record, but I wanted to, no, needed to know.

  Her smile was warm. “Oh yes, that’s true.”

  My throat felt thick as I smiled back at her. Then I forked up some cake, and she went back to humming as she stirred the pot that contained our dinner.

  For a second, things seemed to slow down. My heartbeat seemed to settle into a quieter rhythm, and I realized that I, too, was happy.

  Bone deep content.

  A breath shuddered from me at the realization, and I had to ask myself how long it had been since I’d felt like this.

  Conor could accuse me of being pussy-whipped all he wanted, but I’d take it for this feeling.

  Shit, it was better than that weed I’d smoked as a kid.

  I licked at a crumb that had fallen on my bottom lip, then reached for my cup and swilled down some coffee.

  The feeling of contentment swirled inside me to the point where I didn’t actually know what to do with myself. It felt so alien to be happy.

  Of course, it couldn’t last. I didn’t even have to think that before the buzzer to the penthouse sounded.

  I frowned because I rarely had guests, and the minute the buzzer sounded, I heard the bell that meant the elevator to the penthouse had been activated. Seconds after that, my cell rang.