Filthy Dark: A SECOND CHANCE/SECRET BABY, MAFIA ROMANCE (THE FIVE POINTS' MOB COLLECTION Book 3)

by Serena Akeroyd

“No. You won’t,” he replied, his tone still calm. Declan of before hadn’t exactly had a fast burn temper, but he could definitely get riled up in a flash. It’d make sense if this would be one of those moments where his trigger was pulled. “There’s nothing to ‘get.’ I’m a legitimate businessman. I deal in imports and exports—”

  “Spare me the BS,” she ground out.

  “If you can’t handle the truth, well, maybe you should rethink your position. Are you truly adept at being a law enforcement agent when enforcing the truth is less important to you than stalking innocent businessmen?”

  Her voice turned stony. “My call today has nothing to do with your import/export empire. It’s to do with Aela’s business ties.”

  “As you well know, Aela’s perfectly innocent of any crime. Our attorneys have apprised us of the situation, and if you continue to call her, I’ll consider it harassment and I’ll be taking it up with the DA. Now, you’ve wasted enough of my time, Special Agent. I hope Aela never hears from you again or your career will be on the line.”

  Before she could reply, he cut the call then passed my cell back to me.

  “When have you talked to the attorneys?”

  He arched a brow. “I speak with them every day. I’m still dealing with business. I’m just doing it from home rather than in the office.”

  I shook my head. “How are you supposed to get better if you’re not resting?”

  “You know what this world is like, Aela,” he rasped. “It never stops. Not for any man.”

  My shoulders slumped, rounding as I dug my elbows onto my knees and asked, “Think she’ll give up?”

  “She’ll have no choice. There’s truly no reason for her to continue bothering you. You did nothing wrong. You’ve been more than courteous in sharing your accounts with them and have answered all their questions.

  “She’s only digging in because she wants to turn you.”

  My laughter was harsh. “Turn me? Do I look like a fool?”

  His gaze turned somber. “You’d be surprised. There’s a wave of it going around. That’s two men who’ve turned on us in the past six months.”

  “Two?” My brows arched. “That comes as a shock.”

  “Trust me, no one is more astonished than Da.”

  “I’ll bet.” Uneasily, I muttered, “I wouldn’t have turned on you. I mean, I don’t know enough to be able to.”

  “There’s always some piece of information you can sell, but I know you wouldn’t. You’re not a sellout, Aela. You never were.”

  I tipped my chin up. “I’m glad you know that.”

  “I do.”

  “You going to tell me what the truth is? What you were talking about before Caroline called?”

  His stare was intense when he looked at me, raking me over hot coals with the cocktail of emotions in his eyes.

  Many people might say Declan was a cold man, and I’d agree with that. He was dark, so filthy dark that it obscured the truth of his nature.

  But to me, with me, there was only one point in my life where he’d ever let me see that side of him. Where I’d felt that darkness and had been tainted by it. It had started on the day of Deirdre’s funeral. The day my life had begun to turn upside down.

  “Would you say that I liked Deirdre?”

  I frowned. “No. Not at all. I never understood why you were dating her. I mean, aside from her position. I can imagine you two getting together would have pleased your father.”

  “You’re right. It did. And you’re also right—I didn’t like her. I fucking hated her.” His lips firmed. “Everything about her revolted me. She made my goddamn skin crawl.”

  “Then why did you stay with her? Why was I your side piece?”

  Deirdre had made his skin crawl… that was nothing compared to what that word did to me.

  Side piece.

  God, I hated it. I hated it so fucking much. I hated what it meant, what it represented, and what I’d been. What I’d allowed myself to become. I’d kept the tag as a reminder of what a man could do to me. But really? Declan was the only guy I’d ever debase myself for.

  And what that said about me? Jesus, I didn’t even know.

  “Because I had no choice.”

  That nonsense answer had me grinding my teeth as I started to get to my feet. “Bullshit,” I retorted, but he sat up, caught me behind the knee, and held me there. Gently. With no force, just a reminder of his strength.

  Which was amusing considering he was pretty much dragging his tail whenever he stood up.

  “You’re an O’Donnelly. You always have a choice. It’s the people around you who have no say in things.”

  He winced at that, and it wasn’t a minute gesture either. I didn’t have to read into his micro-expression to decrypt it. That wince was clear for anyone with eyes to see.

  “Maybe, but I didn’t, Aela. Not with that cunt. I had no choice. The bitch was blackmailing me, and back then, I couldn’t have covered what she threatened to extort out of me.”

  My head whipped around at that, and I gaped at him. “You can’t be serious. She was blackmailing you?” I mean, I’d known Deirdre… she was vain, a little ditzy, a lot egotistical.

  Shit.

  Yeah, I could see her doing that. Being stupid enough to think she could get away with it with her life intact. Of course, she hadn’t died for that reason…

  His lips tugged into a snarl. “She was. I wouldn’t joke about something that still fucks me off so much.” He let go of my knee, raised his hand like he was no threat, and said, “I’m still being blackmailed, even though she’s dead. The price has changed now though.”

  “What?” I sputtered, wondering if he’d suddenly started talking Mandarin or something. And to be honest, in my life, that wasn’t all that unusual. Seamus would routinely change the shows he watched into other languages for learning purposes. Each and every time it happened, I was always slow to react, wondering if it was my brain or the TV.

  “Deirdre had it all planned out. We’d be married the second she hit eighteen.” That snarl made another reappearance. “It was the easiest way to keep her silent. The new one, after she died, they’re a lot more expensive. Ten grand a month.”

  “For the past fourteen years?” I gasped.

  “Yeah. It adds up, doesn’t it?”

  “What the hell did she have on you?”

  “Plausible deniability… you know what that means, right? Or did you forget that along the way?”

  Folding my arms against my chest, I scowled at him. “You can’t tell me you’re being blackmailed then not tell me why.”

  He grimaced. “She learned about something she shouldn’t have, had photos she shouldn’t have, and used them as leverage against me. It was important enough that I obey when I’m not a man to obey anyone.” He caught my eye, held it. “That was the reason I was with her. The sole reason.”

  “When she was dead, you didn’t have to—”

  “Like I told you, I got a new blackmailer after she died. I knew they could make demands that could put you in jeopardy. I wasn’t about to let that happen. It was easier to let you go, to know you were safe, than to deal with you dying because of my past.”

  Everything about his words should have softened me, but instead, I ground out, “You just paid up? You didn’t question who or what or why?” Christ, this was like I was talking to a whole different Declan. “You just let me go?”

  “Some mistakes will haunt you for the rest of your life,” he told me softly. “Deirdre just happened to be able to capitalize on something I’d kill to keep secret. I spend ten grand on my parking garage. It isn’t like I can’t afford it.”

  “Thought the whole point of extortion is to get as much out of a victim as possible.”

  He shrugged. “Maybe whoever it is, is just happy they’re getting a nice wad of dough without me wanting to go after their blood. I don’t really care. Things haven’t changed in all these years, don’t see why they’d start now. But… wit
h you and Seamus back, I’ve recognized that things have to change.

  “I’ve set Brennan and Conor onto finding out the identity of my blackmailer. But that’s neither here nor there. You don’t have to worry about that.”

  When I stared at him, saw his resolve, I had to shake my head at him. “You can’t seriously think that’s enough of an explanation for how you treated me?” A breath rattled from between my lips. “You treated me like shit, Declan. To the point where I lied to you. To the point where I felt I had to run away from you.”

  His jaw worked. “I wouldn’t have done that if I didn’t think I had no choice.”

  “Yeah? You need to remember that when your father is sneaking into this goddamn apartment and accusing me of things that are your fault.” I went to storm off, but he grabbed my hand and didn’t let me go when I pulled at his hold on me.

  “He’s been here?” he rasped.

  “Yeah. So has your mother. The guards let them in.”

  His eyes narrowed into beady slits. “I’ll deal with them.”

  “Good,” I replied huskily. “You should. Your words sent me running to people who didn’t love me, who made me feel like I was a slut, but it was the only way I knew to keep Shay safe from someone who I thought hated me and would hate him. From this world where the cops are the enemies not friends.”

  He gritted his teeth. “Help me up?”

  I glared at him. “Why?”

  “I want to show you something.”

  “I don’t want to see it.”

  “Tough.” He sighed, wiped his other hand over his face, and muttered, “Please?”

  What was I supposed to do? Leave him there floundering on the futon?

  Although, the day this man floundered was the day I had to visit a coffin maker. Declan didn’t flounder. He was quiet, pensive, until you knew him. And I’d known him very, very well.

  I reached down and helped him up, not used to him needing me in this way, and finding I didn’t like it. A man like him was born to be strong. Born to flash society the bird.

  It was why he was my soulmate.

  Well, before he’d broken everything that made me me and ruptured it like he’d slipped a dagger into my gut.

  When he was standing, I noticed he didn’t pant as much as he did the day before. Not that I’d let him know that I was watching… Did I look like a fool?

  The second he thought I had my feet under the table, he’d pull it away from me. The level of hatred he’d aimed my way that day, that had to have been brewing for a long time, so I knew whatever payback he was going to serve up would be a nightmare.

  I was the queen of nightmares now though.

  I made them my bitch and turned them into masterpieces, because suffering made my art shine that little bit harder.

  And that was the tragedy of being an artist.

  Twelve

  Declan

  She was going to hate me.

  I didn’t blame her. Couldn’t, really.

  None of this was her fault. It was all mine. All because of pride.

  All because of my coveting something.

  Two sins, but I lived my life with sins darkening every aspect of it. I didn’t care about my immortal soul. Hadn’t since she’d walked out of my world.

  Pussy.

  I let the word flip through my mind, but it didn’t anger me. There was no point in getting mad about the truth.

  Holding out my hand for her to take, I watched her eye my fingers like they were five snakes skewered onto an orange. With distaste lining her features, she settled her hand on mine, and I barely refrained from rolling my eyes at her response.

  Why?

  Because, of course, the second we touched, it felt like all the years had melted away. As if we were both way too young to be fooling around, to be getting pregnant.

  Her jaw tensed, so I knew she felt the shock as well, but I bypassed it and drew her toward me as we edged out of the way of the coffee table and headed to the door. It was slow going, and she was surprisingly patient. I didn’t appreciate being so fucking incapacitated, and I wouldn’t stand for it overlong. My body did what I wanted. Simple as that.

  I was panting by the time we crossed the hall and made it to my bedroom. Each step I took felt arduous, but as we took a short break, it gave me time to ask her, “You hate the apartment, don’t you?”

  Her hand snapped up so she could fiddle with one of those sexy studs in her ears. “What made you think that?”

  My lips twitched. “You got better at lying over the years.”

  “Yeah, well, that’s how life works, isn’t it? Men prefer lies to the truth,” she grumbled.

  The statement had any amusement dying. “I don’t want lies between us, Aela.”

  “No? You sure about that? Not sure you can handle the truth, Declan.”

  “Anything you throw at me, I can handle. We’re—” I was going to say that we were stuck together. But that implied that I wasn’t happy about my status quo.

  Any woman who could give you a boner after a cardiac arrest, I figured, was one worth keeping around.

  And Aela didn’t just make my body hard, she fucked with my head too.

  Sex had never been so good as it had been with her. Especially toward the end, when she’d let go of her nerves and had allowed me in all the way.

  It had been softer than the sex I was used to now, though, and still some of the best I’d ever had.

  In all honesty, I wanted a repeat.

  And since we were going to get married, I didn’t see why that wasn’t doable.

  I’d have to woo her. All women needed wooing. But I’d never been playing for such high stakes before. This wasn’t even about marriage. Just about playing for keeps. None of the O’Donnellys liked to lose, so I was shitty at it, and where she was concerned, the game had never been more important.

  For more reasons than just the fact my son loved her, wanted what was best for her, would defend her like a good boy. He’d turn on me, not her, if I didn’t do right by her, and while I didn’t need that reasoning to be a decent man, it definitely gave me a kick in the ass.

  And the way she looked in a pair of ragged jeans and a cami sure as fuck helped.

  Her tits? Banging. One hundred percent. Even better than when she’d been seventeen.

  I’d have wolf whistled if I didn’t think she’d slap me.

  Two or three years ago, she’d been in New York. On my turf. I’d gone to one of her shows. Had tried to catch a glimpse of her but had failed.

  I could admit to myself I’d been chickenshit.

  I knew what I’d tossed away, knew what I could never get back, and coming face to face with my failure had been shitty, so I’d cut off thoughts of her in my mind.

  Seeing her art had made me come to terms with the woman she was today, letting my memories fade away even as I could see the girl in the artist. In the hope and the idealism, in the longing and the anger. I saw a need to rebel against dictates from an oppressive system, I saw a need to clash with anyone who’d try to stop her from doing what she wanted.

  Yet, here she was.

  Rolling over for the O’Donnellys.

  And she’d carry on doing that because she knew what was at stake.

  A man had to appreciate a smart woman. Even if those smarts were what would have said smart woman chopping off his dick and serving it to him for supper.

  “We’ll move into a brownstone I own,” I told her gruffly, “if you don’t like this place.”

  She scowled at me. “If you have two buildings here in the city, then I can live in one, and you can live here and we can—”

  “What? Split Shay? No fucking way, baby girl. No fucking way. I already missed out on too much of my kid’s life, not gonna miss out on anymore.” I smiled at her though, fucking proud that she’d try to pull that shit on me.

  Maybe I should be angry, but I loved that mouth of hers.

  Enough that I didn’t just want it around my cock.
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br />   She heaved a sigh as we made it into my bedroom, and even though I didn’t doubt she’d sneaked a peek in here before I’d returned home, she did some more snooping before I took her to the foot of the bed.

  It was a nightmare, honestly. The bed was low to the ground, inset, which made getting out of it and into it hell on earth with my wounds. I wasn’t about to ask Shay or her for help, but it was why I spent most of my time on the futon in the living room.

  The bedroom was all clean lines, because that was how I needed it. The bed with its simple linens, two shaded chōchin lights that were dim, and behind me, a massive tapestry that provided most of the color in the room. It was of an enormous water dragon and had cost me over three hundred thousand to buy at an auction. Of course, if it had been at Sotheby’s, it’d have cost six times more…

  Over by the window, there was a seating area with a low table and gray cushions that were comfortable for lounging on. I liked to sit there and take my coffee in the morning, watch the world rise with me. But again, everything was so goddamn close to the ground that using any of it was impossible. Where a window seat would be, I had a low-level shelf with more priceless artifacts on there than anyone in my family could even register.

  I had a problem.

  I knew it.

  No one else did.

  No one but Aela after she saw what I was going to show her.

  It had started when I was young. Just small ornaments, little pieces here and there, but it had grown into an obsession.

  Over five million dollars’ worth of art in the form of ceramics, small antique jade pieces, and even a Ming presentation dish that was over seven hundred years old sat on the shelf in front of the window. Of course, I hadn’t paid five mil. Didn’t mean it wasn’t worth it. Didn’t mean it didn’t give me a boner when I looked at it.

  Well, not at the moment. Only Aela’s ass was capable of that right now.

  And her tits.

  Couldn’t forget her tits.

  Opposite my bed was where I kept the good stuff.

  My jaw worked as I pressed a button on the wall. It was made to look like an AC console, but it was actually the key to opening my safe. She didn’t know what I was showing her, didn’t know that I’d kill anyone who found this stuff.