by Shen, L. J.
“Belle is waiting for me outside,” I warned, panting hard, so wet my thighs were sticking together.
“Belle can go fuck herself. You’re mine now, and I’m celebrating our engagement in my favorite place—inside you.”
He thrust into me from behind, and the unexpectedness of it, the sheer surprise made a loud moan slip between my lips. He snaked one arm between my legs and started playing with my clit as he entered me mercilessly, picking up pace, driving me mad as he hit my G-spot again and again.
“Oh, Monster.”
“Mine.” He leaned down, brushing my hair from my ear, biting the lobe softly.
“Mine, mine, mine. Forever mine,” he chanted, moving his fingers from between my thighs, up to my breasts, kneading them. His fingers traveled north again, and he pushed them into my mouth, coated with my arousal, to stop me from moaning loudly.
“There, there, little Nix.” His breath tickled the back of my neck and my ear, sending goose bumps down my body, making me clench around him even more. “You will now have this dick on a daily basis. Starting tonight, you’ll be moving in with me. I’ll have no lip from you, Aisling. I won. You lost. Understood? Nod if you do.”
I nodded jerkily, my body quaking with an impending climax that threatened to tear through my bones. From this angle, he was so deep inside me, I felt impossibly full. I swear the man was rearranging my guts.
My fingers dug into the wood of the table, my teeth sinking into Sam’s fingers in my bid to stifle a groan. The orgasm racked through me like a tornado, ripping everything inside me in its wake. He must’ve sensed my orgasm because he, too, let go of the sliver of self-control he still possessed and began thrusting erratically, coming inside me in warm spurts, grabbing the base of my neck and pulling me to his mouth for a kiss full of tongue.
We stayed in this position for a few moments, him deep inside me, the last of his cum dripping into me. He placed a chaste kiss on the top of my head.
“Better than cigarettes,” he said dryly, his face turning cold and expressionless again, putting his mask back on now that we were done.
This time, I smiled, knowing it wasn’t personal.
“Aren’t you glad you quit?”
“No.” He pulled out slowly, massaging my butt in the process. “But I’m glad you took the bait and got lured back into Badlands. A few more weeks of being celibate and the cemeteries in Boston would be overcrowded. Now go say goodbye to your friend. You have exactly five minutes before we go back home and I fuck you all over again.” He squeezed my ass, pushing me toward the door playfully. “Make it quick and make it count, Nix.”
I was marrying a bastard.
But he was my bastard.
“I heard the news.” Belle waited for me by the bouncers, leaning on the balls of her feet, just outside the card rooms. They wouldn’t let her in. By the looks she sent them, I could tell no love was lost between her and the two burly men. “On a scale of one to Lindsay Lohan circa 2010, how drunk were you when you said yes to the bet?” she raged.
I threw myself between her arms, even though they weren’t technically open, squeezing her in a hug.
“Not drunk at all, Belle. It’s the real deal. I didn’t want to tell you because I wasn’t sure where it was going, but … we’re kind of together now.”
“Kind of? Ya think?” Belle gave me a sarcastic look, still in shock, pulling away from me while patting my shoulder to show me she wasn’t mad. “We all know where it’s going now, and let me tell you, people called your brothers, who then told their wives, who told your parents. Needless to say, no one’s happy you kept it such a secret. They’re suspecting you’ve been lovers all along. The entire ten years you’ve known each other.”
Let them think that, I thought.
In a way, it was true.
Sam and I were always lovers.
Even when we didn’t speak or touch each other at all.
That night, I went home with Sam. It was only when we entered his apartment that I realized that the place felt completely and irrevocably mine. Somewhere down the line, his place had become my home. It housed my clothes, my shoes, my toiletries, and the man I love.
Still in a daze, I walked around the living room, brushing my fingers over the minimal furniture, the bare walls; I knew there was a good chance our house was never going to have any art in it, no paintings, no beloved vintage knickknacks to fill the place with personality and warmth. I was oddly okay with that. With the loss of art in the name of love.
I was facing the window overlooking Boston’s cityscape, sparkling in the nighttime like masses of tiny stars, when I heard Sam’s voice behind me.
“Don’t turn around. Stay like that.”
I did.
Our phones were both blowing up with calls all the way from Badlands.
At first, we shoved them into my purse, but when that didn’t help, and the buzzing and lit screens kept taunting us, we turned them off completely. I was pretty sure my brothers and parents were fully intending to knock this door down any minute now, only they couldn’t because they didn’t know where Sam lived.
I found that little fact strangely liberating.
The irony of living somewhere my parents couldn’t find me, after being under their thumb for so long.
His footsteps pressed down on the floor underneath us. I felt him stop right behind my back. He took my left hand while I was still facing the window, sliding a ring onto my ring finger. My breath caught, and my heart stuttered, the unreliable monster that it was.
“Don’t look yet,” he whispered into my ear. I nodded, waiting.
He dropped a kiss to the crown of my head, and I felt dizzy with pleasure.
“Sam,” I breathed.
“Yes?” he asked, catching the zipper of my dress, sliding it down seductively.
I cleared my throat. “I want children.”
He stopped unzipping me. I found my voice again. I couldn’t not talk to him about it.
“I know you are not a fan, but I want them very much. Is this going to be a problem for us?”
Holding my breath, I waited. After a few seconds, he resumed the work of undressing me, sliding the zipper down all the way. The dress pooled at my feet like a shimmering lake of burgundy blood and glitter.
“No.” His lips skimmed the hollow of my neck. “I will give you children, if you quit your job. Do something legal, Aisling. I cannot bear the idea of something happening to you.”
I swallowed hard, closing my eyes.
My patients were so dear to me.
Their well-being, supporting them meant everything.
But he was right. If someone caught me, I’d be locked up for life.
Becoming a mother and doing something so dangerous simply didn’t go together. Especially since my future children’s father had a less than respectable job, too. Someone would have to be their anchor. The reliable parent who goes out to work and comes back every day, no matter what.
I felt my eyelids drooping.
“I’ll tell Dr. Doyle tomorrow.”
“Good girl.” He kissed my cheek, unfastening my bra. “Now take a look at your ring.”
I turned around to face him, wearing nothing but my underwear and the ring. I blinked at it. A gasp of shock and pleasure escaped me. I looked up to Sam with eyes full of tears.
“Troy gave Sparrow a ring with a blood red diamond. It reminded him of her hair. I wanted to do the same, but when I think of you, I don’t think about your hair. I think about those eyes. They taunt me. The absolute blueness of them.”
He took my hand and kissed the ring, a huge halo ring of diamonds surrounding the center stone—an emerald-cut octagon-shaped sapphire. I kissed it, too, laughing and crying at the same time.
“You were going to win all along, weren’t you?” I whispered, referring to our blackjack game. “You knew you were.”
He cupped my cheeks, pulling me to him.
“I was never going to lose you, Ash. That wasn’t i
n the cards, or on the table, or part of the agenda. You were always going to be mine. You had to have known that.”
“I am going to kill you, Brennan.” Cillian Fitzpatrick stormed into my office at Badlands the following day, with Hunter trailing behind him. “You have some nerve cornering my sister like that. Your bet with her is off. We’ll pay the money.”
I sat back in my seat, smirking as I tapped my fingers over my mouth. It had been three hours since I dropped Aisling off at the clinic to hand in her resignation, and already I missed her like crazy. The idea of giving up on the engagement after she’d agreed to it seemed as far from reality as letting Cillian and Hunter shove a ten-foot spiky dildo into my ass while I watch reruns of Hannah Montana.
“I don’t want the money,” I drawled.
“Well too bad…” Cillian stopped in front of my desk, his fists clenched “…because buying my sister is not an option.”
“I didn’t buy her, I won her. You were the one who bought your wife, while we’re on the subject, and you…” I turned to Hunter before he opened his mouth “…you don’t even have a say in this. You’re having sex with my sister. Count your blessing that you are still alive. I still have no idea what she sees in you.”
Hunter lifted his hands up in surrender. “Same here, bro. I have no idea why she is with me. I just know I’m not letting her go.”
“How did you get in here anyway?” I frowned. The entrance was manned by two bodyguards.
Cillian took a seat in front of me, and Hunter occupied the chair beside him as they both invited themselves to stay.
Cillian and Hunter had no idea what went on between me, their father, Aisling and Jane, and I intended to keep it that way. Not because I gave a fuck about what they thought but because I knew it would hurt Aisling if her brothers doubted my devotion to her. And she would be upset when Hunter and Cillian passed the information along to Persephone, Sailor, and Devon, making the fact I stabbed her in the back a well-known matter.
“Oh, I know Johnny and Grayson from way back.” Hunter waved his hand around dismissively, referring to the bouncers standing at the front door. “I told them we came in to congratulate you on your engagement.”
“When really we came here to tell you that you will not blackmail our sister.” Cillian lit up a cigar. The stench of the burning rolled tobacco drifted around the room, and I tried to remember what I liked about smoking. Cigars smelled like feet on fire, and cigarettes were their cheaper equivalent.
It was peculiar. How both bad and good habits were born from boredom. How they turned into an obsession, an addiction, before you knew it. And how taking back control from them became a habit in itself.
“Your sister is a big girl.” I laced my fingers together on my desk, trying to keep the disdain from my voice. “She came to me of her own free will. As you recall, you paid me not to get anywhere near her, which should tell you something about her reaction to me.”
“And as you recall, you crapped all over your promise not to touch her, if you are getting married now,” Cillian retorted.
Cillian wasn’t wrong, but he couldn’t prove his suspicion either, so I just flashed him a barely tolerant smile.
“Do you have proof?”
“No, but—”
“Then I suggest you keep your opinion where it belongs, in Reddit conspiracy theory threads. Aisling and I are engaged to be married. The marriage will take place sooner rather than later. I’ve already spoken to your father about deducting the annual bonus for not touching her as I intend to touch her very often—and very inappropriately. I understand that the Fitzpatrick family enjoys seeing Ash as the prized, devoted daughter who dotes on Jane and fulfills her father’s every whim, but this stops now.”
“Which brings us to our next topic.” Cillian narrowed his eyes at me. “Seems to me like the entire divorce ordeal between my parents, along with the stolen cufflinks and poison case disappeared into thin air. As the person in charge of the situation, would you care to explain it?” He held his cigar between his teeth, half-smiling.
The problem with Cillian was that, unlike most of my rich clients, he was smart and observant. Those things were definitely a thorn in my side.
“Gladly.” I smacked my lips together. “We found the person responsible for all those things. For obvious reasons, your father swiped it under the rug. Didn’t want your mother to become even more upset with him when another lover came to light. How is Jane doing, by the way?”
“Don’t pretend like you care,” Cillian yawned. I doubted he cared, too.
“Fair enough.” I chuckled. Hunter, the only one out of us three who actually gave a fuck, confirmed that she was still attending therapy. Good for her. She needed all the help she could get because I was never letting her emotionally manipulate Aisling again.
“You quit smoking, huh?” Hunter’s gaze flicked to my desk, which now lacked the usual mountain of ashtrays, cigarette packs, and Zippos. “From one addict to another, let me tell you, I’m really proud of you.”
“That warms my heart,” I said.
“Really?” Hunter’s eyes lit up.
“No,” I deadpanned, looking between them. “Did you get everything you came here for? I have a busy day. It’s called work…” I snapped my fingers, making a show of reminding them “…you know that thing people do to make money when they are not born into royalty.”
“You are about to marry into royalty,” Hunter jested, wiggling his brows.
“Which reminds me,” Cillian put his cigar out, standing up and buttoning his blazer, “there is no way I am letting you marry my sister without a prenup.”
“I’ll sign the goddamn prenup,” I bit out, “but she can’t know that.”
“She can’t know that?” Hunter frowned. “Why not?”
“It’s not the money I care about, it’s keeping your sister,” I grunted, annoyed that I had to spell it out for him, like he didn’t know what it meant to be pussy-whipped.
“You really do love her, don’t you?” Hunter grinned smugly.
“Give us a smart-ass answer and I will kill you,” Cillian warned.
I was about to answer when someone kicked the door down, sending it flying off its hinges and skating along the floor. I reached for my gun in my desk’s drawer, but the two men in the balaclavas were faster.
“No need to kill him,” one said in a thick Russian accent, pointing his gun at me. “We’ll do it for you.”
He shot two bullets into my chest.
Everything went black.
I slipped in and out of consciousness as they rushed me to the hospital. I couldn’t feel any pain in my chest or my shoulder, which couldn’t have been a good sign. Everything was blurry. The white punishing florescent light forced me to close my eyes as soon as I opened them.
In the background, I heard Cillian and Hunter’s voices, and Devon’s.
“Johnny and Grayson are dead,” Hunter said, unaware that I was half-conscious. “We need to take care of that.”
“Troy’s on it,” Cillian quipped. “He’ll clean up the scene. He has people working on it right now. They’re boarding up the card rooms in case the police get tipped off.”
In that moment, I was glad my friends weren’t total dumbasses. I must’ve groaned because Cillian’s head snapped in my direction. The doctor and nurse behind me shooed my entourage away. We must have been heading into the operating room.
“Call Ash,” I tried to say, but even though I could move my mouth, it didn’t produce any sound.
“What?” Hunter reached over to squeeze my hand. For fuck’s sake, what was he going to do next? Cut the cord when I delivered his fucking baby?
“Call Ash!” I roared, hoping my hearing was impaired due to the gunshots and that I didn’t lose my fucking vocal chords.
Cillian and Hunter stopped dead in their tracks behind the medical staff as my gurney burst through the double doors.
I had to stay alive.
I had to.
> Not for me.
For her.
I closed my eyes again.
For the first time in my life, I was losing a fight.
“I quit.”
Dr. Doyle and I were sitting in front of each other, filling out charts.
I blurted the words before I chickened out, making the older man straighten in his seat. He watched me through the thick rim of his reading glasses.
“I’m very happy to hear that,” he said finally, and all the air rushed out from my lungs in a desperate sigh. Even though I knew Dr. Doyle had been wanting me to explore more legal and accomplishing means of medicine, I also knew he had his hands full here at the clinic, and he needed help.
“I feel terrible.” I covered my face with both hands, shaking my head.
“Don’t.” I heard the smile in his voice. “I want more for you than this. That time you came to my office, when you found out what it was I did, I knew how passionate you were about this job when you told me about Ms. Blanchet, but I never hoped for you to come work here full-time.”
“But what about Mrs. Martinez—”
“She’ll survive,” he hurried to say. Then, realizing his poor choice of words, he gave a small chuckle and added, “I’ll take over. I have my own ideas about her treatment.”
I swallowed. He was a great doctor. I wasn’t worried about his abilities, I was worried about his workload.
“What are you going to do?” I asked Dr. Doyle, peeking at him through my fingers fanned across my face. The engagement ring still felt heavy on my finger. Strange and foreign and yet like a cloak of security I’d never worn before.
Dr. Doyle’s eyes halted on the huge sapphire ring, but other than his smile tugging wider, he didn’t mention it.
It was obvious he put two and two together.
Engagement meant marriage, and marriage oftentimes meant babies, and if there was one thing my children deserved, it was at least one parent who wouldn’t be at risk of being thrown into prison.
“I’m going to cut back on the work eventually, too, starting by turning down new patients.” He dropped his pen on the chart he was filling out. “You know, I thought about this long and hard recently. Why we do this…” he motioned around the room “…and I’ve come to the conclusion that we are trying to repent. We’ve both lost people we loved very dearly in the most horribly painful ways, but it is not our fault. It is time to let go of the guilt, my dear. You cannot change history. But you can write your next chapters. You are doing the right thing by quitting, Aisling. You have a beautiful life ahead of you. Ah, to be your age again,” he said wistfully, staring at an invisible point behind my shoulder, looking far away all of a sudden. “The world is spread before you in all its glory. Make the most of it. You’ve worked hard here, and you weren’t paid a penny. You’ve helped others. Now it’s time to focus on yourself, child.”