by Katee Robert
“Charlotte?”
She realized she was standing on the top step, staring blankly at the massive door before her. Get it together. She dredged up a smile for Liam. “Charlie. Please. No one calls me Charlotte unless I’m in trouble.”
He nodded, but he studied her like she was a bug under a microscope. “You don’t have to do this, you know. He’d find another way if you changed your mind.”
She hadn’t known him long, but she recognized the words as the truth. Whatever Aiden’s endgame, he wouldn’t let a little speed bump like her bolting affect his plan. In reality, though, it wasn’t about him. It came down to her—her and Dmitri Romanov. She may have never met the man face-to-face, but she’d seen his dirty work the few short years she’d worked as a cop. She’d seen how he’d benefited from cops turning against everything they were supposed to stand for.
They chose that. Those cops compromised their honor of their own free will.
She knew that. Romanov hadn’t put a gun to their heads and forced them into anything—he’d just offered a truly outstanding amount of money for them to look the other way when it suited him.
It made her sick to think about.
“I know.” She gave Liam a weak smile. Then she took a deep breath, opened the door, and walked into the O’Malley home.
* * *
Keira O’Malley froze at the bottom of the stairs as the woman walked into their house like she owned the place. She was pretty in an alternative sort of way, her long white-blond hair pulled back to reveal that her temple was shaved on one side, and though she wore a designer dress, she didn’t look comfortable in it. More than that, though, she was a fucking stranger. “Who the hell are you?”
That was when she caught sight of Liam at the woman’s back. Keira waited, sure that he’d toss this chick out on her ass, but he just followed her inside and shut the door behind him. He shot Keira a look like she was the one out of line. “Keira, meet Charlotte—Charlie. This is Aiden’s fiancée. Charlie, this is Keira, Aiden’s youngest sister.”
Keira clutched at the banister to keep from toppling over. She searched Liam’s face, but there wasn’t any amusement to indicate that this was a goddamn joke. She shook her head, but it didn’t do a single thing to stop the rushing in her ears. Aiden’s fiancée? When had her brother found time to get engaged? Does everyone know about this except me?
She turned without another word and marched up the stairs. Every single fucking person in her family was looking out for themselves first. If Aiden thought she was going to sit here like a good girl until he shipped her off to be the slave-bride of Dmitri Romanov …
Her traitorous body warmed at the thought of what, exactly, would be required of her if she married Dmitri. He was beautiful in the way of fallen angels, even if he was an evil bastard. God had really broken the mold with that one—or he would have, if she believed in God anymore.
Something terrifyingly like a sob lurched in her chest, and she broke into a run the rest of the way to her room. No one called after her, no one chased her down to see if she was okay. It wasn’t self-pity that drove her to the window of her room and had her wrenching it open. It wasn’t.
That’s always been my problem. I feel too damn much.
Sometimes she feared all the feelings would suck her under and she’d never see the light again. The only thing that kept the sea at bay was the drugs and alcohol. She’d dialed it back a little—she’d had to because Aiden had cut off her money and she wasn’t desperate enough to trade other things for coke. But getting through the day stone-cold sober?
Out of the question.
Keira shimmied out the window, ripping her jeans in the process, but she managed to climb onto the fire escape that ran down the building a few feet over. It groaned beneath her weight, but it held, just like it always had. Through it all, one word drummed through her head in time with her heart. Free, free, free. It was a lie. Everything in that house was a lie these days.
Maybe it always had been.
She slowed her pace as she rounded the corner, keeping her head down, determined not to bring attention to herself. Despite what Aiden thought, she knew how to fly beneath notice when it suited her. Keira brought out her phone and scrolled through the handful of texted invitations tonight, and picked the closest one. She wasn’t trying to endanger herself, but staying in that house a second longer than necessary was more than she could bear.
It won’t be my house for much longer.
Marriage. She’d always known that was the role she would be required to play. She’d gone so far as to offer it last year when she’d witnessed Dmitri’s ultimatum. A small, dark part of her figured being a wife to that man was nothing more than she deserved. An even smaller part of her had flickered to life when she had gotten close to him those two times, but that flame had died when she realized that he wasn’t coming around for her. He was sending a message to her brother.
He didn’t want her. Not really. He needed her to secure his position—and to put her family in their place.
“Enough. I’m so goddamn tired of feeling sorry for myself.” Feeling anything at all, really.
She made good time walking to the party, slipping through the door and moving into the crowd that had already gathered. It was being held in the basement of an old club. She recognized about half the people there, though she’d never go so far as to call them friends. They were here for the same reason she was—to forget their shitty lives for a little bit.
A guy she’d seen around often enough that she should know his name approached, a broad grin on his face. “If it isn’t my favorite bitch.”
She accepted the vodka bottle he passed over, pausing to check the seal. It hadn’t been tampered with. That’s something, at least. She peeled off the plastic around the cap and nodded. “Thanks.”
“I know your rules.” He grinned, his gaze skating over her in a way that made her skin crawl. A year ago, maybe she would have taken him up on the nonverbal offer, but now she couldn’t trust that whoever she went home with wasn’t working for an enemy. And besides, after she’d gotten tangled up with Dmitri, no one had sparked her interest enough to risk it.
Keira wove through the crowd to the couches lining the wall. There were people fucking on most of them, but one was empty. She dropped onto the thin cushion and took a long pull off the bottle. Blessed burning shot down her throat and warmed her stomach in a way nothing else seemed to be able to. She took her first full breath since Aiden had called her into his office. But she hadn’t come here to think about that. She took another longer drink, her need to breathe battling with her need to forget.
“Keira O’Malley.”
She eyed the man who appeared at her side as she took another swig of vodka. He didn’t fit here. He was too still, too watchful. That would have given him away, even if his Russian accent hadn’t. She slowly lowered the bottle, barely resisting the urge to scan the room to see if he had come. It doesn’t matter. I hate him, remember?
Sure she did.
The man crossed his arms over his chest, and a flash of metal showed beneath his jacket. “Mr. Romanov would like to speak to you.”
“No.”
He gave a slow blink, like he wasn’t sure he’d heard her right. “That wasn’t a request.”
“I don’t care.” She studied the label on the vodka. It was cheap shit, tasting more like rubbing alcohol than the stuff her brother had in their liquor cabinet. When it was clear the man was about to threaten her, she pinned him with a look. “From what I understand, I’ll be marrying that Russian bastard. So let’s start this correctly. If he wants my presence, he can damn well tell me himself instead of sending one of his butchers to summon me like a naughty child.” Her words started slurring toward the end, but she bore down, forcing clarity for a few moments more. “You can pass that along—and tell him if he really wants my attention, he should bring some of the good stuff.” She motioned to the bottle. “Now get the fuck out of here. I’m tir
ed of looking at your face.”
Dmitri Romanov might have tempted her once upon a time, but he was just another shade of O’Malley or Sheridan or Halloran. They were all the same, and she was so goddamn done with the petty power games.
There wasn’t a single thing he could do to her that hadn’t already been done.
She had nothing left to lose.
CHAPTER THREE
Charlie should have known how things were going to go after she met Aiden’s sister on the stairs. She might have taken a page from Keira’s book and fled, if Liam hadn’t been a wall at her back. His silence and strength were strangely comforting. He, at least, knew this thing for a fraud, and he was playing along. She’d do the same.
“Third door on the right.”
She followed his low instructions, her heels clicking on the tiled floor as she walked down the hall to the room he’d indicated. A fortifying breath did nothing to fortify her, so she walked through the door before she could talk herself out of it.
Aiden leaned on the edge of a giant desk that was almost perfectly clean. She’d have thought the lack of clutter meant he didn’t do work there, but Charlie suspected it was because Aiden was a control freak of epic proportions. She’d seen his type around the poker table—the man who uses masks to manipulate the people around him. He was the best buddy, the overwhelmed newbie, the blustering idiot, all depending on what would serve him best.
But the pros she knew looked like children playing pretend compared to Aiden O’Malley. The main skill Charlie had developed after she’d been so horrifyingly wrong about her brothers in blue was people-reading … and she couldn’t begin to guess what the real Aiden was like.
At the moment, he looked slightly rumpled, a few buttons of his shirt undone, his hair not quite perfect, as if he’d been running his hands through it. He went still as she walked toward him. “Charlie.” She heard the door shut behind her, but she had eyes only for him.
Pretend. It’s just pretend.
It didn’t feel very fake when he held a hand out to her and she crossed the room to take it. She had a vague impression of masculine colors on the wall and sturdy furniture, but she couldn’t take her gaze from him.
He took in her dress with a quick look, the heat in his green eyes banking just as quickly as it had last night. “I like it.”
“Thanks.” This felt too weird, especially considering why she was really here. Charlie looked around. “I met your sister when I walked through the door.”
“Keira.” He said her name on a sigh, the very picture of the beleaguered brother.
Real or pretend?
“She’s pissed at me right now, and I don’t expect that to change anytime soon.” Aiden motioned her closer and took her hand again, running his thumb over her knuckles as he examined the manicure she’d gotten today.
She didn’t ask what he’d done to make his sister angry. It was none of her business. She wasn’t here to get to know him—something she desperately needed to remember. “What’s the plan?”
“Dinner.” He saw her confusion and explained. “Before we can convince our enemies that we’re madly in love, we need to convince my family. Their belief will lend the whole thing credence. Some of them are terrible liars.”
She doubted that very much. Charlie looked down at their joined hands, the contact so innocent and yet branding her all the same. “Well, then let’s make it convincing. This holding hands makes me feel like I’m back in seventh grade and awkward as hell.”
“What are you proposing?” His tone gave nothing away, not anticipation, not condemnation.
“The only way they’ll believe you proposed marriage so fast is if the sex was off the charts.” Idiot, idiot, idiot. She was on dangerous ground, and she knew it, but she wasn’t going to risk what little she had left to lose on a plan destined to fail because they half-assed it.
Charlie took a deep breath and stepped into him. He felt good, all long lines and hidden strength, but she was about to jump out of her skin just being this close. Seductress she was not. “We have to be all over each other, have to constantly look like we’re about to fuck or have just fucked—or a combination of both.”
His hands came to rest on her hips, not pulling her closer or pushing her away, just touching her. “It would make the charade more convincing. I can’t argue that.”’
“Then let’s …” She ran her hands up his chest and looped them around his neck. The move pressed her breasts more firmly against him, and his fingers flexed on her hips. It was a slight movement, but it was the first physical indication he’d given since that moment in the car that he wanted her. We’re both the problem here. Too cold. Too contained. “Let’s mix things up a bit.”
“You’re playing with fire, Charlie.” The words came out in a rumble. “I promised I wouldn’t touch you unless you asked me to, but make no mistake, if you want to play this close to the line, then we’ll be crossing that line. Repeatedly.”
“I know.” Her body tingled, but she couldn’t be sure if it was in fear or anticipation.
“Be sure.”
He was giving her an out, which was kind of sweet, but she was right and she knew it. They had to cross this line, and cross it before they encountered any more of his family. The reasoning felt flimsy, but she pushed away her doubt. She was an adult, and she was well aware of the risks that came with taking things to this level. “I’m sure.”
He didn’t ask again. Aiden let go of her hip with one hand, and slid it up her side to bracket her throat. There was no pressure, no pain, just a startling possessive gesture that seared her to the core. “Take off your panties. Now.”
She swallowed hard, the move dragging his calluses against her sensitive skin. “I’m not wearing any.”
The look he sent her nearly had her on her knees, her legs shaking, her breath already coming in short gasps. “Good girl.”
* * *
Aiden knew he should put the brakes on this insanity. It was a bad idea, a distraction neither of them could afford. He stared at Charlie’s fuck-me-red lips telling him she wasn’t wearing any panties and reacted. “I’m not fucking you. Not today, not like this.”
Was there disappointment in those blue eyes of hers? He thought so. Aiden tightened his grip on her throat, just a little, claiming her even though he had no right to. “Make no mistake—I am going to fuck you, Charlie. I will spread your thighs, rip off your panties, and drive into you until your eyes roll back in your head and you see the face of God. But I will do it when I’m damn well ready.” He dipped his hand beneath the hem of her dress, slowly skating up the outside of her leg to her hip, taking the fabric with him until she was partially bared.
She shivered a little. “I don’t know that I put sex on the table.”
“It’s not on the table.” He turned, putting himself between her and the door, and backed her up against the desk. “Not today.” It was a mistake, but he couldn’t stop as he lifted her onto the desk.
You knew this was going to happen. Fuck, you even planned on it.
Not like this. He’d fully intended on seducing Charlie, but on his own terms. Control was vital for every aspect of his plan, including taking her to bed. He fought against the need to spread her legs and do exactly as he’d promised, right then and there. Not the time. You need her panting for it so she doesn’t start thinking too hard about why you picked her.
She braced her hands behind her, looking a little nervous. The fact that this woman had almost pulled a gun on him during their first encounter and was looking nervous now made him feel … He wasn’t sure how to put it into words. He wanted to reassure her, to pull them back onto safe ground. It was too damn bad there was no such thing as safe ground.
And it was all his doing.
“I’m going to touch you now.” Just touch. Not fuck. He needed the reminder as much as she did.
He leaned back and looked down her body. Her thighs were lean and muscled, showcasing God alone knew how many hours o
f hard work. And her pussy … His mouth watered at the sight. He tore his gaze away to look her in the face. “Unless you changed your mind.”
Charlie licked her lips, and he nearly groaned. “The argument still stands. Trial by fire and all that.”
He smiled a little at the comparison. “This will feel better than walking through fire.” He stroked her, gauging her reaction. He was already hard, but at her tiny little whimper, he damn near split his pants. “Tell me how you like it.” He paused, fighting for distance. Doing his best not to be swept away by the fact that she looked vulnerable for the first time since he’d met her. “Show me.”
“Right now?”
“Is there a better time?” He took her hand and pressed it against her lower abdomen. “Show me how to drive you crazy.”
She touched herself, hesitantly at first, but when he stroked her thighs, her eyes slitted and her movements smoothed out. Aiden waited until he knew what she wanted, and then he took over. He rubbed her clit with the same little movements she’d done, watching her face. “Like that.”
“Yes.” Charlie nodded, letting her head fall back and her eyes slide shut.
He wanted to demand that she open her eyes and look at him, to acknowledge that she was teetering on the edge because of what he was doing to her, but there was no room for being possessive. It wouldn’t do either of them any favors.
He kept control through sheer force of will, but Aiden cursed aloud when he pushed a finger into her and she clamped down around him. “Fuck. You’ve been neglecting yourself, haven’t you?” He stroked her, keeping up the motion against her clit as he explored her from the inside. “You don’t have to answer that. I can tell. You wouldn’t be so tightly strung if you were fucking someone regularly.”