Lies & Secrets (Boston Latte Book 1)

by Fiona Keane

  “Will you make my coffee? Liam’s generally tastes like piss. And…yours is my favorite.”

  He must want something. Or, he tracked my recent search history and plans on killing me. I must have appeared a fool, unsure of how to respond to his comment about my coffee.

  “Your favorite?” My soul climbed out from my body and considered the fact Liam Molloy was in his pajamas on my bed, after making me breakfast, and Julian Molloy was looking like a sinfully delicious devil in my doorway while asking to make his coffee because mine was his favorite. Favorite. This is a dangerous sandwich in which to be placed.

  “Absolutely.” Julian laughed as though I was crazy for repeating his words, let alone thinking them. Game on, handsome.

  “Fix your tie. You’re a mess,” I mumbled and strode by his deliciously scented figure toward the kitchen. It was far from pristine, left in chaos from Liam’s breakfast surprise. I held my hips while I surveyed the destruction, searching for a coffee press and Julian’s coffee. My coffee.

  “He’s disgusting.” Julian floated by me, stopping at a cabinet next to his refrigerator. He effortlessly pulled out a fresh bag of coffee, found the honey, and located a French press, placing it all out on his kitchen table while I stood in frozen awe.

  “I’m terribly sorry Liam interrupted your morning like that. You’re not even out of your pajamas.” His eyes trailed along my body, sending a shiver into my toes. “He clearly lacks all form of manners. Coffee?”

  “What?” I couldn’t take my eyes away from the man in his suit.

  “Will you please make my coffee, Aideen?” Julian adjusted the cufflink on his left sleeve while he spoke to me, shaking his arm to separate his coat and shirt. I never observed the art of securing cufflinks. Too hot. Much too, very much, so much. Coffee. Right. Coffee. Mob. No, coffee. I had to start making his coffee or it would have been a bitch to clean my drool from the floor. What has gotten into me? I found actual factual data for why I should hate him even more, and yet here I am ogling him like a fangirl. I wondered what happened to Liam; considering that could have been a strategy for Liam to snoop through my things at Julian’s request. My things. I have nothing.

  “How did you sleep?” Julian continued with his dangerously soft tone, almost as if he was hesitant to speak with me at all. I poured water into his kettle, clicked on the gas burner, and reached for the honey on his table.

  “I’m suspicious of your behavior this morning. Why do I get the sense you’re trying to butter me up for something?” I poured the steeped coffee over the mound of honey, delighting in the aroma swirling from the mug.

  “Butter you up.” Julian’s snicker warmed the air. “I’d not thought of doing that to you. Too messy. But I am hoping you’ll agree to something. We have a dinner for my grandfather on Saturday night. However, I think we need to have a public outing before then.”

  “Oh,” I thought aloud. “Remind me again why I’m doing this?” I swirled the honey, milk, and coffee together in his mug when he responded, an irritated and heavy sigh escaping his throat first.

  “We’ve been over this.”

  I turned toward him, extending my hands to give him the mug of scalding liquid heaven while eyeing him warily. “No. We haven’t.”

  Julian accepted the mug and swallowed a steaming sip while his eyes burned into mine over the rim. His head started to slowly nod, a meticulous movement to confuse me. He needs to do something with that tie before I strangle him. Or tie him up. Or…kill me. How am I supposed to behave right now? Mob? Politician? What?

  “Well,” he continued to nod, hopefully agreeing that he was a lying thief of my freedom and unstable lunatic, “you’re right.” Well, shit. Hell just earned its first icicle.

  “I’m what?” I couldn’t help but laugh, quickly hiding my mouth behind my coffee mug to prevent his demeanor from swaying. Julian approached, his steps slow and deliberate as the distance between us melted away, leaving my pounding heart inches from his dangling tie. He held the mug tightly in his left hand while lifting his right once more to the nest of hay on my head, gently tugging on a wild tendril as his eyes glanced everywhere but into mine.

  “You heard me,” he uttered, finally returning his gaze to mine. “I’m not repeating myself.”

  “What’d Maureen buy you from Tiffany?” Liam entered the kitchen, holding my tray from breakfast and setting the dirty contents in Julian’s sink. Julian’s hand fell from my hair as he turned to acknowledge Liam and resume drinking his coffee. No. Bring it back.

  “What?” Julian inquired, sneering at his brother’s back. “Why are you still here and what are you doing snooping through her things?”

  Liam shrugged, biting his top lip with a grin. “I wasn’t snooping. I passed by her dresser on my way out of the room to return the contents of her breakfast, which I made.”

  “What is it?” Julian’s brow furrowed, but my stupefied expression was stuck on his neck, more specifically, the way his tie remained dangling around his neck and the top two buttons of his dress shirt were undone. That notch between his collarbones, though…

  “What?” I mumbled, shaking my head from the stupor. Figurative cobwebs plopped from the hazy shadows of my mind. Julian is dressed up. Liam is in pajamas. I look like shit. Mortified.

  Julian’s smile faded. “What did Maureen buy you from Tiffany?”

  “Oh.” I swallowed. “Just a ring?”

  “Just a ring,” Liam teased, moving through the kitchen to sit at the table. “I know we come from money, but nothing from Tiffany qualifies as just anything.”

  “Go home, Liam,” Julian snarled, his head snapping back with fervor. Liam responded with a chuckle, humored by his brother’s previously ignored command. Julian’s expression returned to mine, sterner than before Liam entered the room. Julian’s mug was barren, void of his favorite blend, and he swiftly marched around me to place it on the counter.

  “Fine.” Liam caved, standing from the table with his arms lifted in feigned surrender. I sipped from my mug, hoping to wake before further discussion of the ring. It’s a stupid ring, a horrendous reminder of excess that I want to use to stain both of your pretty faces. No, I don’t. Yes, I do. No. Ugh, Aideen. Liam clung to the doorway while he spoke, the hem of his shirt lifting from his waistline, reminding me of his colorful tattoo. That I saw while he was on my bed. Shit! I hadn’t even looked at the tattoo on his arm and he was with me for at least half an hour. On my bed. It didn’t matter. I was already there, already in this. Whatever this is. Educated warriors always put up a better fight.

  “It was great getting to know you,” Liam sang, his voice dangerously light, pulling my attention from Julian’s neck. “I hope this one lets you out of your cage soon, bird.”

  “Goodbye, Liam,” Julian growled, his nostrils wide with hostile irritation. His fists pulled on the ends of his tie while he curtly began straightening the cloth and tightening it around his collar. Something about the way Julian’s long fingers maneuvered to slip the silk through its loops, tightening the knot against his throat, surrendered my body to shock. We were alone three times since we kissed the previous day, twice with Liam in the shadows. I take that back. Liam is half of the reason the kiss ended. The other half being my heart. Or my mind. Or a foreshadowing of what I would learn on that stupid phone. Damn fairytale. I stood in the center of his kitchen, watching Julian finalize his knot when he caught me staring.

  “Aideen?” Oh.

  “That’s quite the knot.”

  Julian touched the silk against his neck. “It’s a trinity knot. You’ve never seen one?”

  “No.” I stopped staring, lowering my eyes to my empty mug. “You seem to be an expert at everything that needs to be tied.”

  Julian’s throat rumbled with a raspy chuckle, his mouth quickly covered as he composed himself through my embarrassment. He approached, my eyes downcast, sending my skin ablaze as his hand cupped my shoulder and his mouth came to my ear.

  “We’re going
to the theater tonight, babby.” Julian pulled back, a shiver consuming my body in his absence. I turned around, following his departing figure as he entered the doorway. My gaze finally lifted, pooling at the vision of Julian’s rich, navy suit reflecting the hue of his eyes.

  “Wear that ring.” Julian’s lips spread into a murderous grin, flashing his deadly white teeth and sparkling eyes before spinning on his heel and leaving the kitchen.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  I could have gone in pajamas. Part of me didn’t care, desiring only to be stubbornly oppositional. And then I think of the kiss. I prayed the theater offered wine during intermission, because I didn’t know how I would get through hours alone in a dark theater with Julian. Not after watching him construct a trinity knot, thinking about the way his fingertips were the perfect juxtaposition of destruction and gentleness, and…whoa. Brain, chill.

  I stood in his kitchen, waiting for the sound of his feet tapping against the hardwood and the click of his lock, signaling my independence within the confines of Julian’s home. It was twisted and dangerous of me to think so, but with the calm silence pillowing my existence, I found myself sort of missing him. Oh, sweet Jesus. All I could hope for, to get myself through the day, was that Julian told the truth when informing me on multiple occasions that I was as safe as I’d ever be. I had my phone, he locked me in, and his brother had lovely tattoos. Wait. Go back. Liam’s stomach is not what I should be thinking about. My phone!

  It came flooding back, as though the night was temporarily erased after spending my morning gawking at Liam’s stomach. But it’s so pretty. Maybe he’ll let me touch it just once. Eek! I couldn’t think like that; those sorts of thoughts only led to trouble—big, dangerous, silver-gun-wearing and gag-threatening trouble. Their cross tattoos danced around in my mind, like a jingle or chorus of a song that refused to leave no matter how hard you plead with your conscience.

  I quickly left the kitchen, marching along the hardwood in my routine path. My phone was where I left it, near the obnoxiously ostentatious sapphire ring that could’ve paid my rent for a few months. I can’t do that. That’d be insulting. I didn’t know why I cared. I took the phone with me as I returned to my bed, climbing beneath the covers where I was rescued from another bizarre dream. Scrolling through my limited call log, I found what piqued my interest. It was foolish to allow butterflies to wiggle within my stomach. I shushed them with a swift reminder of how evil the family was, and I felt better.

  “This is a surprise,” he greeted, “and to what do I owe this pleasure?”

  Fighting the smile that naturally appeared across my stupid face, I replied to Liam, “I hope I’m catching you clothed this time.” I laughed, puzzled by how comfortably humor came to me with him, a stranger. His warm chuckle was greeted with an echo of conversation in the background.

  “Unfortunately, I am. I can see about changing that for you, if you’d like, bird.” His voice lowered. “Does…good morning…yes…bird? Are you there? I’m sorry. I’ve just gotten to a meeting. What’s going on? Are you okay?” Between Liam speaking with people around him and the noise screaming in my head, I lost the reason for calling him. My eyes wandered beyond my feet. Ah, yes. His pretty, toned, tattooed tummy.

  “Take me to lunch.”

  “Pardon?” His laughter was infectious. I was one breath from a giggle before I replied, only partially guilty for my feelings.

  “Take me to lunch, librarian. Finish answering my questions.”

  “So the kitten has some teeth,” Liam muttered with amusement. “I’m just meeting your landlord as we speak.” Shit. I imagined what Julian would say, let alone think, if he knew I broke his unspoken rule of only using that phone to call him. The one who didn’t kidnap me.

  “Never mind,” I conceded, embarrassed that I propositioned Liam, hoping to inquire further about the mysteries of this world. I used the phone four times: once when Julian engaged in an entirely distracting battle of control and flirtation, once to call Julian to save me, once when Liam called after Julian saved me, and once to research the beautiful Celtic ink upon their skin. That time, I actually used it to request time with one of those bastards. I’m losing it. There must be something in the air here. Oh, yes; Julian.

  “No, bird.” Liam’s voice was curt. “I’m going to mind right now. Lunch would be great. I’ll send a driver for you at noon. Promptly. I look forward to it.”

  “Me too,” I agreed, “and…don’t—”

  “Bird, he’ll never know unless you tell him.” Click.

  It frightened me that my cheeks burned with an infectious smile caught by the contagion that was Liam Molloy. He was just as devastatingly gorgeous, possibly even as lethal, but the humor and light in his personality was refreshing. That’s a dangerous term to use. While holding one of Julian’s many torture devices, I clicked through the screens until the clock displayed. It was nearing half past nine. Plenty of time to snoop, or research, maybe a little of both.

  I needed a long, excruciatingly hot bath, but the idea of being held hostage in a body of water inside Julian’s home was unnerving. The last time I took an actual bath was days ago, and then someone tried to kill me. Julian saw me naked. He saw me naked, held me naked, protected me naked, and saved me. Naked. And his eyes never flinched from mine. Just skin.

  I couldn’t let go of that thought. I was bound beneath the luxury of soft feathers and cotton, my senses heightened by the overpowering aroma of Julian’s world, and all I could think of was the reality that someone tried to hurt me.

  Initially, the memory felt like a dream, another confusing image splattered along the galleries of my mind, indecipherable and curious. It was surreal. It happened, I ignored it, and then I was in my bed at Julian’s, a near stranger. The near-stranger who saved me three times. Saved me. It began to trickle in a little more painfully with each minute, violent slides of film slicing through the naïve peace I felt while in bed. I remembered my bath, being angry and disgusted with Julian, but something in my heart knew calling him was my safety. Something buried within me, fighting my better judgment, understood and acted without further thought when calling him.

  I wiped away the tickling beads of sweat that condensed along my forehead like a glass of water outside in August. He saw me naked and he didn’t even look at me. He saved me. He didn’t even think of anything but me in that moment. Julian distracted me while I hid beneath the sink, blinding me as his companion removed the corpse from my kitchen. I remembered his scratched boots, the leather worn with lines of salt from another Boston winter. He. Again. Me. Naked. My heart raced through my chest, threatening my ribs as it violently announced its panicked existence. I had to find the thermostat; I was burning.

  Shaking feet guided me from the bed in search of something to turn down the sauna. There was nothing in the bedroom, so I ventured into the hall, also to no avail. I’m suffocating. I clawed at the collar of my shirt, hopelessly pulling the saturated fabric from my neck. Swallowing the trepidation I felt about entering Julian’s bedroom as my third stop in search of the thermostat, I was instantly hit with a cloud of him. The air was potent, thick and lethal, reminding me of the distracting comfort thinking of him became, even when I should hate him. I do hate him. No, I don’t. I’m pathetic. Yes, I hate him. It smells nice in here.

  His bed was made, barely even a feather out of balance in the crisp white fabric. My fingers twitched, resisting the urge to climb beneath the layers, remembering how secure I felt when he brought me in there after traumatizing me with that fairytale movie. See, I hate him.

  I reluctantly pushed aside desperate thoughts to curl up and sleep beneath the ridiculously soft fabric and scanned the walls of his bedroom for the thermostat. There was a small electronic screen next to his closet door, almost hidden by the panel that hung slightly ajar. My eyes flickered in all directions, ensuring I was alone, while I nervously tiptoed across his bedroom floor toward the screen. A simple touch of my index finger sent the screen into
a tizzy; bright lights illuminated the screen, requesting a password I didn’t know. Wonderful. I knew nothing of Julian to think of the passcode for his thermostat. I entered random numbers, pressing my luck, but by the third incorrect attempt, a small beeping sound started to trickle out from the screen.

  The panel screamed at me, setting off alarms and violent beeps that suggested I was a robber or criminal. Ha. That’s ironic. I poked at random buttons to no avail. Naturally assuming I set the self-destruct setting for his building, I flew from the bedroom and landed straight into my bed, diving beneath the covers like a frightened child. The air around my face was hot, melting my already sweltering self as I refused to move from the self-inflicted suffocating protection of my blankets. I no longer heard the beeping. Maybe I’m safe. The covers hummed, softly vibrating near my knee. The stupid phone. I was afraid to pull out my head. What if I destroyed his system? Oh, wait, that might deplete his stalking capabilities. Once I get over this fear of exploding, I’ll have to destroy more things.

  The buzzing continued, refusing to stop. I lifted my knees, pushing the demonic device closer to my hand so I didn’t have to exit the protective confines of the blankets. It buzzed in a violent pattern of repetition. Text messages. One hand reached through a space in the covers and pulled the machine beneath with me, my blurry eyes squinting to read the uncharacteristically frantic messages.

  Julian: Please answer your phone.

  Julian: Aideen?

  Julian: Messing with the thermostat won’t burn down my house. The gas stove is probably the quickest way. Although, I’d miss you. Please don’t.

  Julian: Aideen? Answer your phone. Please.

  Julian: Why do I now find myself begging for you?

  “Hi,” I whispered, answering it from my fort of safety when it rang again.