Perfect Homecoming
Danielle Stewart
Copyright © 2020 by Danielle Stewart
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
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Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Epilogue
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Perfect Homecoming
Carmen’s life is on hold. Hiding away in Italy has been her only option. Gloria Kinross has provided her with safety for years. But now it is time to move on. Like a bird unceremoniously kicked from the nest, Carmen isn’t sure her wings will even work anymore. When she sets her sights on a dangerous plan involving revenge and vigilantism, she knows she’s asking for trouble. She also knows she can’t do it alone.
Brian O’Malley can’t help himself. If there is trouble to get into, he’s the first to sign up. The rest of the O’Malley family has struck out on new endeavors and lucrative careers. Brian fights the changes and decides working the docks and living in his rundown childhood home still feels right to him.
Carmen needs a fighter and Brian needs a battle; these two become the perfect pair. Things begin to sizzle when their plan forces them closer than either imagined. Will his strength destroy her scheme? Will her past extinguish the heat between them?
Chapter One
Carmen
Italy felt a world away.
Carmen was determined to make a space for herself in a place that had tried to destroy her. That’s what Gloria would have wanted. With everything she could muster, Carmen would elbow her way back into the places she’d been kept from for so long. It wouldn’t be easy. Spending years quite literally hiding out had taken its toll. But no one ever said life was easy.
In the beginning, when it had all gone terribly wrong, it was about survival. Years ago, being whisked away by Gloria to Italy was her only option. If she wanted to live, she needed to live there.
Verde Lago, tucked away on an island in Italy, was a safe haven for women in abusive relationships who were deemed in imminent danger. Their abusers were sometimes people in power or from connected families. Normal channels of seeking help wouldn’t likely work. They needed some kind of extreme intervention and Gloria, with her wealth and connections, could offer that.
It was an oasis in a desert, and the women who found themselves there received more than just a safe hideout. They had counseling. Legal guidance. Financial support. And a plan for how and where to start their lives over when it was safe for them again. It was everything the justice system wasn’t.
There were no impossible-to-enforce restraining orders that never kept the danger at bay. There were no loopholes that had a violent offender back on the street, angry and looking for revenge. Gloria offered real hope. True safety. Unconditional love. She had saved Carmen and hundreds of others. All of that made leaving Italy much harder than she ever expected.
The average resident stayed for a year or less. They left with resources and guidance that would equal a fresh and safe start. Not every situation had a happy ending. Not every person found what they were looking for, but often lives were saved. Carmen had been proud to be a part of that.
Until suddenly she wasn’t a part of it anymore. Gloria had become like a mother to her. She gave Carmen complete and unadulterated access to all things Verde Lago. She had been a part of the team and now that was over. When Gloria died after a short illness, she left instructions that Carmen needed to leave the compound. Not because she wasn’t an asset anymore, but because it was time to go. There were no permanent residents of Verde Lago, even the employees. It would be easy to hide away for the rest of her life, but Gloria knew there was more waiting for Carmen out in the real world.
It wasn’t easy to argue with a dying woman. And part of Carmen understood that Gloria was correct. She had put her life on pause for years now. Her job had been to be the face of Verde Lago. She’d greeted the new arrivals. Listened to their stories. Dried their tears. Assured them there was hope. Promised them they were safe. Whatever boogieman was after them couldn’t find them there. It had been the kind of job a person grew addicted to. The high of helping had been real. And it had been alluring in a dangerous kind of way.
Now that was over. She was in Boston, robotically trying to be a person again. Tray and Lauren had been protective of her. Whisking her back there under their careful watch. But now, two months in, it was time for her to decide what to do with the very blank slate she had in front of her. Gloria had made sure she had the financial ability to do whatever she wanted. It was a gift, the only catch being she had to figure it out for herself and do it now. The problem was the only thing she felt truly compelled to do was dangerous, reckless, and self-destructive. She was sure that wasn’t what Gloria had meant.
“Hiding during dessert isn’t allowed,” Brian O’Malley said, taking a seat next to her on the front steps. The wood beneath them was old and splintered, in dire need of a fresh coat of paint. But she liked this little house and its shabby state. The O’Malley brothers had grown up here. They’d struggled here, and there was something endearing about that. This family had adopted her after meeting them through Gloria’s legacy and all the connections she’d made for Carmen.
Brian had a wool cap pulled down nearly to his sea glass eyes, and his jeans were ripped, but authentically so. It wasn’t as though he’d bought them that way from a fancy boutique. Brian worked on the docks, and nearly every aspect of him confirmed his profession. The hard, physical job had taken its toll. The tiny scars on his face made him look weathered well beyond his years, but his bright, mischievous eyes and wry smile were quick reminders that he was no more than twenty-five.
“It’s a nice night. I’m just enjoying the fresh air. Taking in the sights.” Her lie sounded hollow, but she couldn’t muster much conviction at the moment. The weight of every passing day was beginning to crush her. Carmen could practically hear a ticking clock in her head.
“Right, it’s real beautiful out here.” Brian shot her a funny look. “You’ve spent years living in Italy. I don’t think our shabby house and rundown neighborhood are calling to your soul.” He offered her a sip of his beer but she shook her head.
“You know I don’t drink.” Her cheeks flushed pink. The idea of taking a swig of his beer created an unfamiliar chill up her back. Or maybe it was just a long forgotten sensation. His musky cologne swept by her as he leaned back casually on the step behind him.
The house was also full of little scars and weathered patches. Weeds sprang up from the broken concrete that was a worn path to the front door. The porch sagged under the weight and strain of the O’Malley brothers’ work boots coming and going over the years. But like Brian, there was still something magnetic about the house. Maybe it was the light pouring out from the flowery
curtains. Or the laughter, trumped quickly by shouting, which kept bursting out unexpectedly to the street. It made Carmen feel as though she’d like to stay there, followed quickly by the crushing realization that staying wasn’t an option. That was not how Gloria designed things.
“There you go again,” Brian grunted. “I lost you for a minute. This is why you should drink. It keeps you from those deep thoughts.”
She shook the sadness away and forced a smile. Brian didn’t smile back, likely because he understood her grin was not genuine. Instead he sighed and his green eyes blinked slowly. Brian was rough around the edges, but the look in his eyes was familiar to her. There was a brokenness to him.
Growing up, Carmen always had a soft spot for damaged things, never knowing someday she’d be one too. As a child, when she plucked the broken-stemmed flowers or fed the stray kittens out in her barn, she thought she was doing some good. Now she knew better. Some things can’t be saved. “Drinking won’t help me. I never found anything I liked to drink anyway.”
Again, Brian scoffed at her response, layering his words with sarcasm. “I’ve heard there is no good wine in Italy. That’s got to be a pretty easy place to be sober.” He was goading her, but she wouldn’t take the bait. “Sorry,” he said, tossing his hands up. “I’ve never met anyone who says they don’t drink and actually means it. Everyone I know goes on and off the wagon like it’s a carnival ride they keep getting in line for. But I think it’s cool you don’t drink if you don’t want to.”
“I’m all the way on the wagon. Buckled in. Doors locked. I know, so boring. That’s me.” She shrugged, and her shoulder brushed against his. It had been so long since butterflies stirred in her stomach. A sense of melancholy blanketed her as she remembered the sensation. She was twenty-seven years old and had already spent four of those years alone. The time had not been wasted. She had been surrounded by people who were kind and welcoming. Doing a job that was fulfilling. But a relationship of any kind at the compound in Italy wouldn’t work. There were no men except the guards who kept the island secure, and they always kept their distance.
Now, sitting in the balmy air with Brian, staring up at the night sky, was as intimate as she’d been with anyone since she stepped off the plane in Italy. She’d forgotten how overpowering that sensation could be. She’d walled off all the parts of herself that craved those kinds of nights. The silly swells of desire a girl feels when a boy looks her way, she’d done away with all of that. Suddenly it was back.
“You’re just quiet,” Brian corrected, turning toward her. “There’s nothing wrong with that. This group doesn’t give a lot of opportunities to chime in unless you’re willing to yell across the table. You have to fight for a chance to tell a story or give an opinion.”
“I’m not much of a fighter,” Carmen admitted, running a hand across her own cheek. She was flushed, and her cool hand gave her instant relief.
“Well, I’m a fighter. If you ever want me in the ring, making a spot for you, let me know.” He clenched his fist and turned his knuckles toward her, as if to validate his statement. The skin was layered with old scars and barely-healed cuts.
Brian found her like that lately. Sunday dinner wasn’t technically mandatory. This group of brothers and the people they loved were trying hard to keep Gloria’s legacy alive. Part of that legacy was getting everyone together each week to stay connected. It didn’t always work out. Sometimes a few of them were traveling. Or a project at work kept them away. But as often as they could, they were all there.
Sometimes they met at the O’Malley house where they were now. Other times it was in the fancy penthouse apartment that used to belong to Gloria. After she’d died, her niece Layla had taken it over. Every single person had been kind and welcoming to Carmen, but Brian had been more than that. He was real. Calling bullshit where he saw it. Seeking her out in moments like this.
Brian took a long swig of his beer and tossed it with shocking accuracy into the recycling bin at the end of the small porch. Carmen jumped at the sound of the bottle clunking to the bottom of the plastic bin.
“Sorry, I forgot.” He clapped his hands together and looked truly apologetic.
She righted herself with a deep breath and then looked at him curiously. “Forgot what?”
“You’re jumpy.” The words were cool and matter of fact. It wasn’t an accusation but an observation.
“I am?” She knew he was right but felt ashamed it was so apparent. The compound in Italy had been so quiet. Safe. Serene. It had to be. Women from all over the world came to recover. To feel safe. There were rarely raised voices. Always calm, comforting spaces to take back everything they’d been robbed of. Coming back into the real world had left Carmen jumpy.
Brian shrugged, and the grin returned to his face. “You know you don’t have to come to these dinners if you don’t want to. We all joke around that it’s mandatory, but really you have to do what you want.”
“I hope I’m not giving everyone the impression I don’t want to be here.” Her stomach swelled with worry. This group had been abundantly welcoming. The idea that she appeared to be put out made her queasy.
“I noticed, but I don’t think anyone else is worried about you yet.”
“You’re worried?” Her brows knit together as she watched the scar across his chin twist up. She’d caught him off guard finally, and she liked it.
He shifted uncomfortably. “No. That’s not what I meant. I’m not someone who worries.”
Envy flooded her. How could someone move through life without constant worry? What else did they think about if not overthinking all the things that could go wrong? “You don’t worry? That must be amazing. I basically run on coffee and anxiety.”
“How, with all that overthinking, have you not figured out what you want to do yet?”
“No amount of worrying seems to get me any closer to an answer. I don’t know what I want,” she admitted, drawing in a deep breath. “I think that’s the problem. Every week that goes by, every Sunday dinner, I see everyone moving through their lives. They know what they want to do, they know where they want to be. I’m in limbo.”
“Lauren offered you a job with her, didn’t she? That’s a big, swanky company. You’ve got an apartment, right?”
Carmen shrugged, feeling like an ungrateful child. “I shouldn’t complain. I’m living in furnished corporate housing. The problem is, it’s impersonal. It’s not me at all. And the job, it’s not what I want either.”
“Well then, that’s something. At least you know what you don’t want.” He tried to look cheery but it faded quickly.
“If only I could find my passion like you have.” Carmen smirked playfully. “You must really love what you do.”
“Working on the docks?” Brian’s broad chest rumbled with laughter. “Yes, that’s my passion.” The sarcasm was as thick as his Boston accent.
“It must be if you’re still doing it.” She brushed her hand across his shoulder.
“Still doing it?” Brian’s back stiffened a bit, and she knew she’d hit a nerve. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I haven’t been around very long, but I hear things. Your sister Junie married Hugo. They’re making millions in the oil industry. Your brother Kenan is half of a powerhouse couple in retail business, along with Lauren. All your brothers are taking on opportunities along with them. Learning new trades. Going back to school. I’m sure you’d have the same chance at all of that. If you haven’t taken advantage of any opportunities, that must mean you’re already doing what you love.”
His eyes narrowed as he appraised her again then snapped his fingers together. “Now I get it. It took me a little while to figure out why I don’t like you. Now I know.” If not for the lift at the corner of his lips, Carmen would have been worried. She didn’t like to upset people. This was clearly lighthearted banter, and she’d missed it dearly.
“Oh really, all these weeks to figure out why you don’t like me? It doesn’t usu
ally take people so long. I’d love to hear your reasoning.” She folded her arms across her chest and waited impatiently for the barb he was about to throw.
“You’re one of those people,” he began, sounding suddenly scholarly. “You see things. Everyone else is so caught up with their own stuff they never look up to pay attention to anyone else. You, on the other hand, seem to pick up on it all.”
“Guilty,” Carmen admitted proudly. “It was a big part of my previous job. Observing behavior and anticipating what people might do. I try to pay attention.”
“You’ve been paying attention to me?” His eyes fixed on her and he blinked slowly, daring her to answer.
“I pay attention to everyone,” she corrected.
“If you were really paying attention, you would know I’ll never take a job from anyone else in this family. I don’t need a handout.”
“Even if you didn’t take a job, there seems to be tons of money floating around. Stay on the docks if you like. But I’m sure you could buy your own dock if you wanted to.”
“I’m starting to think you don’t actually know what I do every day. Have you ever been down to the docks?”
She giggled, covering her face with her hands for a moment. “Nope, I haven’t. I don’t have a clue what you do. I grew up very far from the ocean in rural Canada.” It had been a long time since she’d shared any personal information about herself with anyone. Even just saying she was from Canada felt like she was stripping herself bare, exposing a level of vulnerability she hadn’t dared attempt in years. But Brian, with his dark humor, was disarming. She’d become painfully aware of how someone could present themselves one way and turn out to be dangerously different. Brian wasn’t trying to be anything except exactly who he was. It was refreshing.
Perfect Homecoming (Barrington Billionaires Book 10) Page 1