Then, the door closed behind him.
My blood spilled for the sins of my father. Just perfection. A great way to end the misery that had been my life for the past twenty years. I slowly turned my head back to the picture. I lifted my hand and let my fingertips dance against the glass. Tears ebbed and flowed, like the waves licking the stilts of the hut. And as they slipped down my cheeks, my resolve crumbled.
I sank to the soft carpet and buried my face in my hands.
“Help me,” I sobbed.
I laid down on the beautiful white carpet. My makeup dripped off and stained its perfection. I’d surely be beaten for it. But I didn’t care. Maybe if I was beaten enough, I’d develop enough scar tissue so that it didn’t hurt any longer. So that nothing hurt any longer.
Maybe they should just kill me and get it over with.
I slipped my heels off. I rolled over and reached for the bed. The beautiful, rich blue bedspread was disrupted as I pulled the comforter off. The king-size bed gave way to me. The only thing under my present control. I rolled back over, rolling myself up like a burrito. Then, used my arm as my own pillow. I sank into the hole I had created. Into the darkness. Into the softness. I cried against that comforter, hoping I didn’t leave behind stains that would make anyone upset with me.
“Someone help me,” I whispered brokenly.
I didn’t care that the bedroom was surprisingly cozy. I didn’t care that the basement was locked up tight with me inside. I didn’t care that the bathroom down here had been outfitted with all the latest things. And jets. And misters. And stonework. The only thing I cared about was, well… nothing. I didn’t care about anything except the holes my family left behind. Holes I’d never fill. Happiness I’d never feel. A miserable life I’d never get away from, no matter how many times people threatened to kill me.
Though, I believed Declan when he said he would.
I believed him when he said I’d pay for my father’s sins.
What a welcome rest.
I didn’t know how long I cried. I didn’t know how long I laid there. But when I peeked out, there was silence. No one walking around above me. No voices to be heard through the brick walls. There wasn’t even any traffic going on outside. Or, technically, above my head.
And I peeked my head out to survey the room.
The light had been turned off. The stairwell, too. It was pitch black, save for a thin strip of luminescent blue lights that lined the floorboards of the massive basement. It cast an eerie blue glow over the room. It cast shadows along the walls that made me think twice before coming out. I sighed as I slipped out from the burrito I had created for myself. Standing to my feet as my hands fell against the wall.
“Come on, where are you?” I murmured.
I finally felt the light switch and turned it on. The bright white light clicked on and the blue lights quickly turned off. I shielded my vision as I gazed around. My eyes felt heavy. My nose, stuffed. My joints ached and my head hurt. But that didn’t stop me from looking around.
From taking in the things that had changed.
“What time is it?” I whispered to myself.
I looked over at the digital clock on the bedside table. One in the morning. Shit. I’d cried for that long? Or maybe I cried myself to sleep. I really didn’t know, to be honest. I walked over to the comforter and gazed upon the carpet. The least I could do was clean up the mess I made. But there was none to be found. No makeup stain. No foundation. No mascara. Nothing.
Huh.
When I looked up, I saw a door hanging open. The darkness of the hole intrigued me, and I crept closer to it. With bated breath and trembling hands, I reached the entryway. I slid my hand inside. I slipped it up and down the wall until I came to the light switch. I turned on the light and squinted my eyes again, trying to mitigate the migraine I felt coming on.
And what I saw made my jaw drop open.
“Holy mackerel,” I breathed.
It was a walk-in closet. Gigantic. Easily twice the size of the bathroom. I walked inside and gazed upon all the clothing. The fine silks, the gorgeous velvets, the fur coats, and the heels. Sensible heels. Not those stiletto things Father always made me wear. Closed-toed, peep-toes, and heels with bows on the back. There were pencil skirts and flowing dresses of every shape and size. Not to mention, a rack of jewelry. Dangling earrings, diamond necklaces, and gem-studded bracelets of every color. There were sunglasses. Casual outfits. Drawers full of bras, thongs, and lingerie sets hanging up.
I pulled a random dress from its hanger and held it up. I gasped as it molded to me perfectly. I smiled as I hung it up before pulling down another one. Then, another. All of them, completely covering me. No cut-out dresses. No dresses that came above the middle of my thigh. Dresses I’d longed to wear for my entire life, instead of the stripper clothing my father crammed me into.
Then, it dawned on me.
How did they get my measurements?
I quickly hung the dress back up. I scurried out of the room. I turned off the light and rushed into the bathroom before turning the light on. I looked at myself in the mirror. Mascara painted along my cheeks. Foundation that had leaked off half my face. I looked like a nightmare. A fucking wreck. But I wasn’t in that cut-out dress any longer. I was in a silk gown with spaghetti straps. A gown that fell all the way to the middle of my shins.
Holy shit. Someone had come in and dressed me.
Taken my measurements.
Without waking me up.
I grimaced in the mirror and ran out of the bathroom. I looked around, searching for any way out of this damn place. I ran around the massive expanse of the room. Because it seemed this damn basement had it all. A sprawling, decadent bathroom. A closet filled with clothes for me. A four-poster king-size bed. Nightstands. Even a sitting area with a loveseat sofa, a coffee table, and a recliner. All centered around a television with a damn electric fireplace.
But no fucking windows.
“I have to get out of here. I have to get out,” I whispered.
I rushed up the steps. My hand fell against the doorknob. I jiggled it. Wiggled it around. I even slammed my shoulder against the damn door. Someone had come in and violated me. Taken off my clothes and slipped me into something else. Danced around me, like I was nothing. Fucking hell, they even wrapped me back up in that damn comforter and left me there! It made me sick to think about. I needed out of there, even if it meant living on the streets. Even if it meant dying on the streets.
I had to get out of this house.
And away from the dangerously devious—and dangerously attractive—Declan Callaghan.
6
Declan
“So, how did things go last night?” Brody said.
“You know it’s none of our business,” Gael said.
I sighed as I sipped my strong amber drink. The thought plagued me all night. Creeping downstairs into the basement. Slithering into bed with Ciara and making her part those legs for me. I’d dreamt of her scent all night. Tasting her before taking what was mine. The urge was palpable. Relieving myself in the shower did nothing to abate my urges. And all damn day, she’d stayed in that basement. Not once coming up to eat.
“I sent Thoman with food down to her room,” I said.
“That doesn’t tell us about last night,” Brody said.
“Shut up about it,” Gael said.
“What? Are you genuinely not curious about our new guest?”
“You know she’s not a guest.”
“Well, if Declan would talk with—”
I held up my hand. “Thoman filled her closet and bathroom with all the things she needs. And what he found down there still has me upset.”
Gael quirked an eyebrow. “All right. Now you need to speak, brother.”
“Do we need to fire someone?” Brody asked.
“Already taken care of,” I murmured.
I took a long pull from the whiskey. Ironically enough, Daly whiskey. From their own distilleries. The
family was full of a bunch of ass-kissing fuckers, but they made a damn good drink.
“When Thoman got down there with her things, he found her wrapped up in the comforter. On the floor,” I said flatly.
“She fell asleep on the floor?” Brody asked.
“No. She was crying on the floor. I sent the maid staff down there with him to take her measurements. Help her get settled in. And they said she was in a daze the entire time. Crying, silently. Making barely a sound,” I said.
“Sounds like a girl who’s used to crying silently,” Gael said.
I pointed to him. “My thoughts exactly. They got her up, but they said she looked like a zombie. Makeup running down her face. Eyes unfocused.”
“Are you upset Thoman didn’t come get you?” Brody asked.
“No,” I spat. “I’m angry that after they took her measurements and dressed her in something more comfortable, they put her back on the fucking floor.”
“Excuse me, what?” Gael asked.
“They didn’t move her to the bed?” Brody asked.
I shook my head slowly. “Needless to say, I’m currently on the market for two new maid staff. She should have been placed in bed to cry. Not back on the fucking floor.”
The thought of her waking up on the floor this morning made me sick with anger. Any guest of this house deserved better treatment than that.
“Well, since we’re on the topic, what do we think of Daly?” Gael asked.
Brody snickered. “Leave it to you to find a way to steer it back to work.”
“He’s right,” I said as I finished my drink, “we need to start talking about this. Richard’s been gone for three days. And there’s been no demand of ransom. No package delivered to the door. He’s simply vanished. We need to start putting this together.”
“Well, you’re the one who interacted with Daly last night. What did you think?” Brody asked.
I shook my head. “The man was way too keen on making a deal on those debts. Much too eager to absolve them rather than pay them back. He almost threw his daughter at me. And in whore’s clothes, no less.”
“How many times do you think he’s dangled his daughter like that?” Gael asked.
“I don’t know, but he made sure to make it known that she was untouched. That was her selling point. And he was eager to pawn her off,” I said.
“Angry he didn’t have a son?” Brody asked.
I sighed. “More like ready to wash his hands of us for a reason I couldn't pinpoint.”
“So, you think he has something to do with this,” Gael said.
“I think he’s the one that had the greatest debt with Richard for the longest period of time,” I said.
“Then, if he’s taken Richard, why offer his daughter? Why not use him as leverage to absolve the debt another way?” Brody asked.
“If he really wanted to be rid of our father and his daughter, two birds with a stone,” I said.
“Boys?” Mom asked.
We all turned to look at her before Uncle Martin appeared at her side.
“Dinner’s ready whenever you are,” she said.
The three of us stood and I buttoned my suit coat. I made my way for my father’s office, then snapped my fingers. Thoman appeared almost out of nowhere, careening around the corner at lightning speed. A wisp of a man, with thin brown hair and pale skin that made him look almost sickly.
“Yes, Declan?”
“Let Ciara know we’re ready for dinner. If she’s not ready, she has twenty minutes,” I said.
“Of course. I’ll let her know,” he said.
He rushed off and I took my time getting to the basement steps. While everyone else made their way into the kitchen, I waited for my woman. The girl bestowed upon me to marry and make my own. Thoman came rushing up the stairs. He gave me a look before nodding his head. And just as he disappeared, I heard the clicking of heels coming up the staircase.
Before her beauty appeared in front of me.
“Declan,” she said softly.
I clasped my hands behind my back. Because if I reached out for her, I’d shove her back downstairs. Take her to bed. Make her mine instead of celebrating her twenty-first birthday. I licked my lips as my eyes cased her body. Those long, toned legs. The slope of her waist. Breasts that blossomed for my viewing pleasure, encased in a strapless corset bodice. Oh, the dress she had chosen made me salivate. My mouth watered as my cock sizzled with desire. Against her creamy skin, the rich yellow made her green eyes pop and her blonde hair sparkle.
I’ll never be able to concentrate over dinner.
“I enjoy that suit on you,” she said.
She stood in front of me, her nose barely coming up to my chest. Such a small girl. Yet, such a fire in her eyes. I grinned down at her. I unclasped my hands and offered her my arm. And when she took it, the softness of her skin was felt through the layers of my suit.
Causing me to swallow back a groan.
“I see Thoman picked out the wardrobe I asked,” I said.
I escorted her into the kitchen, and everyone turned to behold her. The smell of cake sat in the air with champagne that had already been popped open. I didn’t like the fact that they didn’t wait for us before they popped bottles. Yet another reminder that she really wasn’t welcome here. No matter, though. If she had done as I asked and researched places for us to stay, we’d have our own space by the end of the week.
A space where I could mark her body with her scent in each and every room.
“To the birthday girl,” Brody said.
“Happy birthday, Miss Daly,” Gael said.
“Here, here,” Uncle Martin said.
But Mom simply rose her glass and gave us a curt smile.
“Happy birthday, Ciara,” I said.
And as I looked down at her, I saw her roll her shoulders back. Putting on that brave, strong face she had.
Good girl.
I handed her a glass of champagne and we clinked our glasses together. Then, I pulled her chair out at the kitchen table. I sat next to her, our thighs touching. And it seared through my clothes throughout the entire fucking meal. Her softness called to me. Her warmth beckoned to my cock. And as dinner droned on, I barely spoke.
Because I couldn’t stop fixating on her.
“So, Ciara. Did you sleep well last night?”
“Do your accommodations suit your needs?”
“Is there anything you’d like to snack on or drink in the house that you’re used to?”
“Have you gotten out much at all today?”
They peppered her with asinine questions that meant nothing. Just small talk. Yet more of a reminder that she was nothing but a temporary guest. But this family would learn better. By the time this was all said and done, she’d be accepted as one of us. My wife. The mother of my children someday.
If I didn’t have to kill her to send her father a message.
We ran through the courses. Soup. Salad. The main course. Cake for dessert. There were candles, and we sang. She put on her best smile, too, which was admirable. She spoke only when spoken to, and never offered up more than was asked.
A trait ingrained into her by her father, no doubt.
“Well, it’s getting late. Ciara and I have much to speak about. So, if you’ll excuse us,” I said.
“I’m sure you do,” Mom murmured.
I stood up and cast her a sharp look. Then, I offered Ciara my hand. I helped her up and wrapped her arm around mine, where I led her back to the basement door. Down the steps. All the way into her room. I walked back up and closed the door. Then, decided to lock it for good measure.
I heard her sigh heavily as I came back down the stairs, watching as her fingertips rooted around for her zipper.
“Need any help with that?” I asked.
She whipped around, a shocked gasp falling from her lips. Oh, those lips. Those pale pink lips with gloss on them that made me groan with satisfaction. I wanted them wrapped around my cock. Pressing against
mine. Learning how to please me while I guided her. I walked over to her and grinned. I gripped her zipper and slowly inched it down her body. Watching as each of the tendrils popped open, one by one.
Until the zipper stopped at her lower back.
“Why don’t you show me some of the things Thoman got for you last night?” I asked.
“Okay,” she said softly.
I clasped my hands behind my back as she scurried off toward the closet. Such quick movements. Such soft strides. She walked with grace, and that made me smile. I awaited my show with bated breath and patient eyes. And when she came out in her first number, the pencil skirt alone brought heat to my cheeks.
“Good. They got the measurements right,” I said.
I dismissed her and she came out in another dress. A pretty, low-cut one. With no back, a slit up her right thigh, and her cleavage completely exposed.
“Mmm, a special night for that kind of a dress,” I said, chuckling.
She blushed at my words as she made her way back into the closet.
Number after number. Outfit after outfit. Until nothing was left but her lingerie. She came out in peekaboo panties. Trimmed with lace and paired with matching bras. She came out in silken teddies with see-through material, giving me eyefuls of those breasts of hers. My cock pressed hard against my pants. I rearranged myself every time she disappeared into the closet. And when she emerged, I found her in a full-length nightgown.
With its matching robe wrapped around her.
“Do you like your new clothes?” I asked.
“Yes,” she said.
“Why don’t you show me your favorite item?”
And then, her eyes came up to meet mine.
“My favorite?” she asked.
“Mhm. The one thing you like more than anything out of what he purchased.”
I watched her digest my words before she rushed back into the closet. Her enthusiasm brought a chuckle to my lips. But it didn’t prepare me for the shock of what she brought out. In her hands was a plain cotton t-shirt. Long. With a wide-brimmed neck. I furrowed my brow as she brought it to me, and I could’ve sworn I saw a shadow of a smile playing on those pink-tinted cheeks.
Declan: The Callaghan Mafia #1 Page 5