Black Irish

by Tricia Andersen

  She felt Sloan’s fingertips caress her lower back as he directed her to the table closest to the bar. He motioned for her to sit then strode off with Gordon, Bartholomew, and Robert in that direction.

  Abbey watched life happening around her. It was evident that she wouldn’t have gotten into this place on her own. Every person in the club gave the impression that they had a minimum of seven figures in their bank accounts or was with someone who did. The men were dressed in tailored suits that rivaled Sloan’s. Diamonds dripped from the necks, wrists, and earlobes of the women. There wasn’t one person dressed in a T-shirt and jeans. I could get used to this. But not these designer shoes. They pinch.

  She recognized several of the women who passed by. Their pictures were regularly in the society pages of the discarded newspapers she read at the diner. By their looks of disdain, Abbey could sense they instantly knew she didn’t belong.

  She searched the crowd for Sloan. He was leaning against the bar with the other three men, waiting for his drink. As she watched one woman after another—model-like women, rich women, women dripping in diamonds, perfect women—flock to Sloan’s side, she felt a knife twist in her stomach.

  They pressed against him as they talked. Even from a distance, Abbey could feel the pheromones rolling off them in hot and heavy waves.

  It made no difference to her that Sloan didn’t seem to respond. He had a laugh with Bartholomew and Gordon as he did his best to discourage, or at least ignore, the women rubbing against him like cats in heat. She felt hopelessly inadequate and desperate. Very desperate.

  Sloan gathered a bottle of beer and a glass of wine in his hands and returned to the table, wading through the sea of leggy socialites. He set the glass before her then slid into the booth next to her. He laid a strong hand on her thigh. “My clients aren’t here yet.”

  She nodded in acknowledgement, but she was still focused on the women. Their glares were daggers aimed at her, declaring an all-out war. The victor got to cuddle naked with Sloan tonight.

  Abbey was past her breaking point. She looked up at Sloan sweetly. “I need to use the restroom. Can you show me where it is please?”

  “Certainly.”

  Abbey took the hand he offered to help her slip out. Obediently following him as he led her through the crowd, past the bar, and down the black painted hallway. He stopped as they reached the restrooms, women’s to the right and men’s to the left.

  “Here you are.” Sloan swept his hand toward the door to the ladies’ room. “I’ll wait for you here until you’re finished.”

  She didn’t budge. Confusion etched across his face.

  “Abigail, what is it?”

  Without a word, she wrapped her fingers around his black silk tie, drawing his face down. Prying his lips open with hers, she caressed his tongue. She smiled as she heard him moan. Her smile disappeared as she sank deeper into him. The women in the club fled from her mind. All that see could feel, ache for was him.

  Abbey tugged on the tie like a leash as she stepped backward into the men’s restroom. Sloan stopped in the open doorway, digging the heels of his boots into the cement floor to stand his ground.

  “Abigail, what the hell are you doing?” he demanded.

  She stared at him, stunned for a moment. Then, she tugged him to her and dug another deep, wet kiss against his lips. She felt his hands, as well as his resolve, slip as he let go of the doorframe. Except he didn’t follow. She caught the stunned look of the men using the restroom just before Sloan yanked her out into his arms. “You knew there were guys in there right?” he questioned.

  “Yeah, didn’t think about that at the time.”

  His body crushed hers against the rough brick of the dark hallway as his mouth engulfed hers. His fingers grazed the curves of her breasts until they found the hard nubs poking through.

  Abbey wasted no time. She tugged the tie loose then unfastened several buttons on his linen shirt. Her fingers trailed to his belt, fumbling to unlatch the buckle. She sighed as she felt his pants fall open.

  Sloan pulled from the kiss. “Abigail, stop.”

  She noticed that, despite his objection, his hands still caressed her breasts. “Why? Don’t you want to?”

  He groaned. “Oh, hell yes, Abbey. But I don’t have any protection with me.”

  She glanced down his body, the very convincing evidence of just how much he wanted her throbbing against his briefs. The fire burning inside her was about to consume her. “Please, Sloan?” she pleaded breathlessly. “Please?”

  Her whimpers blew away whatever self-control he had left. With a growl, he grabbed her hand and led her further down the hallway. She stumbled behind, her legs jelly from the desire flooding her core. She couldn’t remember the steps they climbed. Her eyes were focused on Sloan’s muscular ass, the edge of his slacks slipping from his hips as it ascended the stairs ahead of her.

  A narrow hallway with a couple of closed doors waited at the top of the stairs. Opposite the doors, a tinted window lined nearly the entire length of the wall. Sloan pressed Abbey against the window as his mouth roamed the curve of her neck.

  “Sloan, what if we’re seen?” Abbey gasped as she clung to him.

  “This from the woman who just wanted to screw me in the restroom?” His hands gripped her ass and pulled her against his erection. “The mirror is one way. And every employee is serving the near capacity crowd below.”

  Abbey shuddered at the sound of ripping fabric. Her panties fell to her feet between her stilettos. Two large fingers slipped inside her and slowly pumped in and out. Sloan’s gaze was wicked as he stared into her eyes. She panted as she spread her legs further for him.

  His teeth bit lightly at her earlobe as the speed of his hand increased. “You have to come for me, luv. I need to be inside you now.”

  Abbey braced her fingers against the glass as her body quaked. Nowhere in her wildest fantasies could she imagine sex like this. Her cries blended with the thumping music as Sloan bit into her dress, locking his teeth around her nipple. She pulled her breasts free as the fiery eruption blazed through her. The sensation of his lips suckling drowned her deeper in desire.

  Her legs were shaking as he pulled free to tug the waistband of his slacks and briefs past his hips. She moaned as she snaked her fingers around his erection and gently stroked his flesh.

  He roared as he lifted her and guided her legs around his waist. He grasped her hips and thrust deep. Abbey’s eyes fluttered shut as she whimpered. “So big. So big.”

  “You don’t have much of a point of reference.” His grunts echoed in her ears. “Open your eyes. I want to watch you come again.”

  He rocked hard into her, driving himself deeper and deeper inside her. She hugged him tight, her fingers buried in his hair. His eyes locked with hers as another wave pulled her under, harder than the last. She heard a purr from deep inside his throat as the last slow, deep thrusts brought his release.

  »»•««

  Abbey couldn’t raise her eyes as she straightened her dress and tucked a few loose curls back into the comb in her hair. Sloan leaned against the wall, waiting patiently for her to get herself back in order. Discreetly wadding the scraps of fabric that once were her panties into a ball, she dropped them into her purse. She forced a weak smile on her face as she passed by him toward the staircase.

  Abbey’s heart raced in her chest as she felt Sloan’s hand wander from her hip to her ass as he escorted her through the hallways back into the club. As they reached their table, he curled her back to him for a deep, wet, devouring kiss. She cocked a grin at every wide-eyed woman that watched them. Yes, ladies. He’s mine. All mine.

  Sloan leaned down to her as she carefully slid back into the booth. He pressed his lips to her ear so he could be heard over the music. “I see my associates. I’ll be back shortly.”

  Abbey nodded, her eyes meeting his warmly. She watched Sloan as he disappeared into the crowd. Nursing her glass of wine, she watched the crimson liquid v
ibrate to the beat of the music. She looked up as she felt the seat shift.

  A beautiful blonde in a crimson strapless dress bounced in beside her. “So, you’re Sloan’s…umm…wife.”

  “Abbey.” Her voice was cool. “And you are?”

  “Amber. A friend of Sloan’s. Where did you two disappear to?”

  “We went to talk. Married couple stuff.” Abbey glanced at Amber’s fingers. There were several rings but a wedding band wasn’t one of them. “You probably wouldn’t understand.”

  “Hmm. Cute. Something you should know. You aren’t the first woman he’s screwed in this club. You’re probably not the first one this week. And I don’t know about you, but when he’s done with me I can barely walk.” Amber slowly rose as she shot one last, cold look. “It’s nice to meet you. Have a good night.” The blonde sauntered away, her hips swaying.

  Abbey couldn’t swallow past the lump in her throat. Not the first this week? He’s doing her? He lied to me? Her stomach lurched as her heart burned in rage. She shook herself to her senses. No. Why should I listen to some random woman?

  Abbey glanced up to find Amber gathered with her friends. They were all watching her. And laughing. It only took a few steps before Amber was then at Sloan’s side with her arms hugged tight around his, her lips pressed against his chin like they were lovers.

  That’s enough. Abbey scooted out of the booth then searched frantically for Gordon. She slid up to the bar beside him.

  “Are you all right, Abigail?” Gordon asked, his aged face filled with anxiety.

  Abbey thought for a moment. “Actually, I’m not feeling so great, Gordon. Could you take me home?”

  “Of course.”

  He offered his elbow as she slid her arm around his. She followed him up the steel stairs, her clicking heels unbelievably audible on the metal. They stood quietly outside the door as they waited for the valet to return with the Hummer.

  Abbey waited until they had pulled away from the club before she made her next request. “Gordon?” she asked timidly.

  “Yes, lass?”

  “Could you take me to my apartment?”

  The look he shot her in the rear view mirror was light years past concern. “I thought you wanted to go to the penthouse.”

  “I really want to go home. My home. My apartment. I think I would feel better there.”

  He stared at her for a moment more. “Very well. As you wish.”

  She contently settled back into the leather seat. In the rearview mirror, she could see the flash of anger in Gordon’s eyes. She heard him mutter, “Sloan is going to have to answer for whatever happened between himself and the lass. And fast.”

  Abbey rushed into her apartment building, throwing a hasty goodbye over her shoulder to Gordon. Within moments of stepping foot inside and locking the door, she was under her covers in bed. The sooner she fell asleep, the sooner she could forget her anger and betrayal. Her mind focused on Amber clinging on Sloan. He didn’t shake her off. Did he smile at her kiss? Abbey couldn’t remember. So much for my lying, cheating husband. Unfortunately she couldn’t sleep and she tossed and turned all night.

  Abbey was never so happy to be at work the next day. Waiting on patrons assuaged her rage. Plastering a fake smile on my face to get tips might kill me. She happily volunteered to take Mitzi’s shift also so Mitzi could have a Saturday night out with her friends.

  Things were very quiet in Abbey’s life. When she had stepped across the threshold of her apartment, she turned off her cell phone. Sloan had given it to her so he could reach her at all times. It was non-negotiable.

  He can shove his non-negotiable up his ass.

  Although Abbey was able to bury her fury on Saturday under plates of food and satisfied customers, it was back in full force Sunday morning as she woke up. The diner was closed. She was alone. She could spend the day beating herself up over believing in Sloan.

  Crawling from under her sheets, she shuffled across her bare apartment. She opened the refrigerator and sighed. It was empty. Her stomach growled in objection. On Sunday mornings, she usually woke to the best French toast she had ever tasted made just for her by her husband. A piece of stale bread and expired eggs. Not quite the same thing.

  Abbey glanced up as she heard a knock on the door. She pushed the refrigerator closed then stepped over to it. After peering out the peephole, she stepped back silently, her eyes narrowing. If I just stay quiet, he’ll never know…

  “Abigail!” Sloan’s voice boomed. “Open the door!”

  Abbey growled at his voice. She could hear fierce anger in his brogue.

  “Abigail!”

  She paused a moment more before she unlatched the locks and tugged the door open. Sloan glared at her, his six and a half feet dressed in a skintight T-shirt and Levi’s jeans, filling the entire doorway. His large hands clung to the doorframe, his fingertips scraping against the painted metal.

  “Why did you turn your phone off? What part of non-negotiable did you not understand?”

  Abbey shrugged. “I guess I understand non-negotiable about as well as you understand fidelity.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “It amazes me that you knew that no one would be in that hallway we had sex in. Tell me, how did you know that, Sloan?”

  “I’ve signed deals with clients in those offices. Where is this coming from?

  “I met your little friend, Amber. She told me all about you. And her. And the women in the club. It seems I’m not the only one you’ve screwed there this past week.”

  “Abigail, I told you. You are the only woman I’ve shared a bed with in over a year.”

  “That’s not what Amber said.”

  “Who do you believe? Some woman you just met or me?”

  “Amber hasn’t lied to me before. You have.”

  “I’ve been home with you all week. By your side. Your devoted husband.”

  “Sloan, our marriage isn’t real. It’s an agreement on a piece of paper.”

  Her words jolted him. He let his hands fall to his sides. “Our marriage is real to me.”

  “Whether you think so or not, it’s over.”

  “Abigail, be reasonable. Don’t let some lying bitch come between us. Come home with me. I’ll prove to you that I’m telling you the truth.”

  Abbey motioned around her. “This is my home. I think it’s time for you to go.”

  He stared at her for a long hard moment before he stepped back into the narrow hallway. Without another word he stormed off. Abbey softly shut the door behind him.

  Her rage twisted her heart in a knot. Tears burned her eyes. She was furious. He’s a lying, cheating scum. But…

  A sob caught in her throat. I love him.

  She shuffled across the floor to kneel on the bed. She stared out the window to the street below. The Hummer sat parked along the curb. Sloan ranted to what Abbey could only guess was his phone. He stalked back to the door of the apartment building and ripped open the door.

  He let the knob slip from his hand, watching the door close. His shoulders were hunched as he looked up in the direction of her room. Each step he took back to the vehicle echoed defeat. Slipping in the backseat, the Hummer sped off. Abbey slumped back on her bed, hugged her thin pillow and cried.

  By the next morning, Abbey pulled herself together. She had to. In this big, bad city she didn’t know who to believe. There was only one way to solve this problem. It’s time to go home to Iowa.

  Without the escape to Sloan’s penthouse, each day took an eternity to end. The look in his eyes when she told him it was over haunted her. There was pain, a pain she wanted to heal. But he lied. Has he ever told me the truth?

  Chapter Fifteen

  Abbey wiped the diner countertop as she slipped from her thoughts. She looked around the restaurant, gazing lovingly at the nostalgia on the white walls, the fifties’ style booths, the tile floor. As much as she loved the place, and Barker, it was time to go. Before she came to work, she did one final c
ount of the money she was saving. She had put her nose to the grindstone to save for four weeks. One more week at the most and she would finally have the money to move home. She couldn’t wait to hug her mom, see her friends, drive her car. It was time to put New York in the rear view mirror for good.

  Her heart twisted. As much as she wanted to go home, the thought of leaving Sloan tore at her. Of course it does. You fell head over heels in love with the guy. He was too good to be true. And not once did he ever say he loved you. Maybe you are too naïve for your own good. Abbey looked up as the door opened. Two men walked in. They were both stocky, dressed in jeans and dark hoodies that covered their heads. It was difficult to make out their faces.

  “May I help you?” she greeted cheerfully.

  Then a lump lodged in her throat as she stared into the barrel of the gun.

  “Empty the register,” the tallest of the two demanded.

  Instinctively, her eyes darted toward the kitchen. She was torn between the fear of dying and the guilt of giving them money that wasn’t hers. Barker stood in the doorway, his arms raised obediently.

  “Do as he says,” Barker instructed gently.

  Abbey’s hands shook as she tapped the button to open the cash register. She quickly scooped the bills from each slot, shuffled them together, and then handed them to the thieves.

  “Let’s go,” the smaller warned.

  Beneath his hood, she could see the evil, leering grin on the taller one’s face. It terrified her.

  “I know you,” he hissed. “You live in my building. You’re the rich bitch who leaves in that Hummer.”

  Sauntering around the counter, he looped his finger into the neck of her waitress uniform, tugging her to him. He kept his finger tucked between her breasts as he looked down at her lapel, his eyes resting on her gold shamrock pin.

  “You must have a rich daddy,” he crooned to Abbey. “Give me that.”

  “No,” she whimpered as she struggled away from his intruding finger.