Something I didn’t dare put a name to.
Couldn’t put a name to.
A shaky sigh escaped me as I watched him leave, and call me a fool, but I didn’t go against his wishes. Like a good girl, I undressed and slipped into bed.
I didn’t sleep though. I wasn’t nine years old.
Instead, I stared up at the ceiling, uninterested even in checking out my phone. The day’s events were more than entertaining as I thought back to everything that had happened. From the way he’d taken me against the window, to the elevator, my still-sticky thighs and the slight ache were enough to make my cheeks burn, to how we’d been treated like royalty at the sushi restaurant, and then to his parents’ reactions to our marriage...
Mostly, I was astonished by the attitude of the staff at Akemi’s restaurant. Whenever my father dined out, people were scared of him. They didn’t treat him with deference, but with fear. The O’Donnellys clearly inspired a different kind of response, one that was just as powerful but meant we really had been waited on as if we were the underworld Jackie-O and JFK.
That butted heads with what I’d gleaned from meeting Aidan Sr. for the first time today. He was a fearful man, after all. Terrifying if the hell promised in his eyes was anything to go by...
Uneasy, I turned on my side. The O’Donnellys weren’t Bratva, but that didn’t mean they weren’t still mobsters. A thought that was confirmed when noises started bleeding from the lower level to this one. Pain-filled, scared, violent... hearing them prompted me to close my eyes.
Whoever was in his office... I was glad I wasn’t them, and it made me vow never to turn my back on the O’Donnellys. Not just in action, but in deed.
Thirty-One
Brennan
I stared blindly ahead as Father Doyle preached to us about the Sermon on the Mount, one of his go-to sermons for when the old fucker had drunk too much the night before. I’d heard this bullshit time and time again over the years, to the point where I could probably preach it to him.
Unlike most Sunday mornings, my head wasn’t aching from too much Japanese vodka. This time, instead, I had a wife at my side, and my knuckles were bruised to hell, and my wrist was aching like a fucker. Well, the latter wasn’t unusual, but the wife? Definitely new.
This was the first time my brothers, my family, and the Five Points in general, had ever seen me with a woman.
It wasn’t like we brought our dates to church, was it? But aside from Eoghan, the rest of my brothers kept shooting her glances, curious as to who she was. I couldn’t blame them. This latest bit of family intrigue was a hell of a lot more exciting than Doyle’s lecture. Even Da, who usually ate up every word the old bastard spouted, stared down at his lap, the brooding scowl keying me into the fact that he wasn’t happy and still hadn’t gotten over last night.
I had two words to say to that—tough shit.
Although, an hour later, when Ma pulled me aside after we made it out of the church and that agonizingly long sermon, I wouldn’t deny I was surprised by her words.
“It might be best if you skip Sunday lunch this week, son,” she murmured, sending Camille an apologetic glance.
“It’s okay, Lena. I understand that our marriage comes as a shock to your family,” Camille replied, smiling softly as she patted Ma’s arm like my wife hadn’t just been grossly disrespected by my parents.
How was it that rat bastard, Vasov, had managed to breed such genuinely sweet daughters?
In her position, I wasn’t sure I’d have been so goddamn polite.
“This is bullshit,” I told Ma stonily.
She bit her lip, but reached up to cup Camille’s hand, ignoring me as she told her, “Thank you for being so understanding, dear.” She squeezed her fingers. “It’s been a long time since I had any chocolates from Girani’s, so that was a real treat. And the slippers are beautiful.”
The smile didn’t hit her eyes, even if I sensed her genuine pleasure with Camille’s gifts. I arched a brow at that, wondering what was going on with my mother. Something clearly was. And I wasn’t just overreacting because of the shrink stuff, either.
Ma, showing weakness in front of a crowd? Biting her lip? Hovering and dithering by our side as we were cut off from the pack? Not tearing off Da’s head instead of uninviting us from a family ritual?
No, something was definitely going on with her.
Pressing one hand to her arm, I squeezed softly as I leaned down and pressed a kiss to her cheek. She moved closer, slipping her arms around my waist before she murmured, “Speak soon, son.”
“We will,” I confirmed, eying her as she scuttled away to Da’s car.
“You know where Callum is?”
I blinked at Conor who strolled over, squinting at Camille like she was a logic problem he wanted to solve, even if his mind was elsewhere. “Callum?”
“Yeah. Priestley said he went out on business for you. She ain’t seen him since.”
I shrugged. “Don’t know where he is.” I felt Camille’s tension, but ignored it, even as I dropped her a glance and saw that, not by a single flutter of her eyelashes, did she give a damn thing away.
I figured that she knew who was making the noise behind my office door now...
“Well, I don’t know where he is. I sent him out on a job, and I ain’t heard from him either.”
“Not like him.” Conor heaved a sigh. “I’ll ping his cell.”
“Surprised you didn’t do that already.”
He shrugged. “Wasn’t a priority.” Tipping his chin to the side as he took me and Camille in, he frowned, then when I didn’t say anything, prompted, “Shouldn’t you introduce us?”
When, in less than two minutes, all my brothers, their wives, and Finn and Aoife were gathered around us, I heaved a sigh, aware that this was how I was going to introduce Camille to the family—in front of St. Patrick’s church, with the Five Points’ Mob milling around the vicinity.
Perfect. Not.
“Camille is Inessa’s sister,” I told them, just in case they were blind and couldn’t see the family resemblance. “Babe, this is Aidan, Conor, Declan, Finn, and you already know Eoghan, don’t you?” I said with a smirk before I pointed to my nephew who appeared to be flirting, albeit shyly, with Jericho Mills’ kid, and murmured, “That’s Declan’s son, Shay. Aela is Dec’s wife, and Aoife is Finn’s.”
“Pleasure to meet you all,” she said shyly, her cheeks pink enough to stir some very unwarranted emotions in me.
I’d watched her deal with my mother like a champ, but here she was, becoming all pink and shy... Fuck. She was turning me into a caveman. I wanted to haul her over my shoulder and take her home where she didn’t have to be shy again.
Those pink cheeks were mine.
To slowly morph from embarrassed timidity to dawning fire as I turned her onto the path of temptation.
Before I could get any ideas, Inessa moved over to Camille’s side, and slipped her hand into her big sister’s. I almost smiled at the sisterly comradery, before I informed the pack of vultures, “This is Camille. She’s my wife.”
“Your wife?” Conor questioned skeptically.
I nodded.
“This was fast,” he replied. “Too fast—”
“Shotgun wedding?” Declan demanded, earning himself a hissed, “Declan!” from Aela.
“Dec has a point,” Aidan confirmed. “Is it?”
“No,” I said with a laugh. “She ain’t pregnant.”
“Then what was the rush?” Finn asked, his hand tucked in Aoife’s while Jacob, their son, was hitched onto his side, peering at us like we were the most fascinating thing in the city.
We weren’t that impressive—the kid was still in awe of dogs and all things fluffy.
Aoife snorted. “Like you can ask anyone that?”
He grinned down at her before he pinned me in place with a look again.
“The rush was Da,” I told him with a shrug.
Eoghan, folding his arms over his chest, frowned. “What do
you mean?”
“Because he wanted to forge another dynastic marriage, one worthy of Charles and Di?” was my droll retort as I slipped my arm around Camille’s waist. It didn’t escape me that she huddled into my side.
I had no idea why I liked that, but I did.
She turned to me, not her sister... after barely any time as my wife. It should have saddened me that she did that, but it didn’t. If anything, I liked it. I wanted her to turn to me—every fucking time.
Scowling, Conor narrowed his eyes at me. “You mean, that’s why he’s got a hard on today? Over this?”
“Yeah. Well, that and Vasov’s dead.” My brothers tensed up, which told me Da hadn’t let them know that salient fact. It was also a testament to how tightly the Bratva were keeping a lid on their Pakhan’s murder if my brothers hadn’t heard any whispers about that yet. Because we couldn’t talk business, I carried on, “We’ve been uninvited from Sunday lunch too.”
Accepting the change of topic, Aidan tipped his chin forward. “You mean, Camille hasn’t been made welcome?”
“No,” I told them, wondering what their reaction would be.
Conor pursed his lips. “Well, I didn’t feel like Ma’s roast dinner today anyway.”
My brows rose. “You love her food.”
“We all do,” he countered, “but Da can’t keep pulling this BS over us. We’re not six any fucking more.”
“Language,” Finn rumbled. “Little ears.”
“Jake can’t wipe his ass yet. I don’t think he knows what the word ‘fuck’ means,” Conor argued.
“If he starts dropping F-bombs,” Aoife told him, her sweet voice like a song, “then we’ll bring him to you to reprogram.”
“If only kids could be coded,” Conor said with a sigh, but he stared at Jacob the way most of us did.
Like he was an alien.
He was more of a toddler now, but we all remembered the days where he pissed and shat and cried all at the same time.
“Speaking of coding, I need you to give Camille access to the penthouse.”
Conor nodded. “I’ll sort that out when I get home.”
“Thanks, Con.”
“No worries.”
“Let’s get back to the matter at hand, eh?” Aidan rumbled, his brow puckered in a way we’d all come to recognize—he was coming down off a high.
“What matter? That Da’s a prick?” Conor chirped.
“Yeah. That matter,” Aidan groused. “Look, it’s all right for you fuckers, Conor and me are the sitting ducks now.”
“Fuck you, Aidan. I really saw you coming to my defense when I had to get married and Da beat the shit out of me,” Eoghan groused, his glare morphing into an apologetic glance at his wife.
Inessa’s lips twitched, so I figured we hadn’t started a Baltic War on that front.
“Yeah, well, that was different.”
“Why was it?” Eoghan snapped.
“It just was, okay?” Aidan blew out a breath. “Conor, do you feel like being fitted up with some Italian snatch? Because the Famiglia is where he’ll make his next deal. You just watch.”
Conor pursed his lips. “Is Italian snatch hairy?”
Aoife groaned. “Don’t be gross. Italians have heard of Brazilian waxes too.”
He blinked. “Oh, it’s the French who are supposed to be hairy, isn’t it?”
“Back in the sixties,” I said wryly. “Get back to this decade, Con.”
“Why? It’s so much more pleasant in the past,” he said with a smirk. “But you’re not wrong, Aidan. If we don’t take a stand, we’ll find ourselves married to any bitch Da wants to make a deal with.” He wagged a finger at me. “You know what, Bren, this was smart of you. Taking the matter out of Da’s hands.”
Aidan muttered, “This is going to turbo-charge things with him. Just you watch us being married off to terrified cu—”
“Aidan!” Aoife snapped. “Language!”
He shot her a glare, but Finn smirked and said, “The ‘C’ word is a bit much for church, Aid.”
My elder brother grunted but, shoving his hands in his pockets, muttered, “Maybe.”
“No maybe about it,” Aela warned as Shay started shuffling toward us. She slung her arm around his shoulders and asked, “You okay, Shay?”
He hummed, cast us all a glance and frowned. “What’s going on? You talking about me?”
Conor snorted. “Your shiners are old news, kiddo.”
Shay grinned. “Really? The way Mom keeps going on about them, you’d think it was front page material.”
Aela reached up and scrubbed her hand over his hair. “First and last time, Shay. I warned you—you come back with more black eyes, you’ll be grounded until you’re eighteen. Minimum.”
Shay shot me a sheepish look, which had me winking at him.
Of course, Aela saw. “Don’t encourage him, Brennan!”
I just shrugged. “What’s a man to do? Let himself be cornered and not come out swinging?”
She heaved a sigh. “Not get into corners in the first place.”
Aoife cleared her throat. “Can we get a move on? It’s freezing out here.”
She wasn’t wrong. It was unseasonably cold, with the dew on the grass around us gleaming like the fronds were coated in glitter because they’d turned frosty at the tips.
I shuffled my shoulders together inside my coat, then tucked Camille closer, because she had to be colder as her jacket was only waist high.
“We’re going home seeing as we don’t have Ma’s roast to look forward to.”
Conor wagged his finger. “I think we should all cancel. Make a stand. Let Da know we’re not ten anymore and aren’t okay with being bossed around.”
“Why’s Grandda bossing you around?” Shay asked, his curiosity evident.
“Never you mind,” Aela mumbled, ruffling his hair up again. “I agree with Conor. You all let them have too much sway.”
“Isn’t that what good sons do?” Shay asked again, the question innocent but I saw the twinkle of laughter in his eyes.
“They do until they’re eighteen,” Declan confirmed with a laugh.
Aela crinkled her nose. “Okay, maybe twenty-five.”
Shay grinned, while the rest of us chuckled.
Well, apart from Aidan. Apparently, he could see his freedom coming to an end.
I didn’t blame him for being pissed off. Just because Da didn’t have any plans at the moment, that wasn’t to say they weren’t in the making. You never knew with him. One second, all could be well, and the next, there’d be some backdoor deal going down.
“I agree,” Aidan said with a grumble. “I think we should all skip this Sunday lunch. Anyway, Da’ll be in a pisspoor mood. It won’t be fun.”
“That’s hardly fair to Lena!” Aoife argued.
While she wasn’t wrong, the rest of us just shrugged.
“She’s used to his moods,” Conor pointed out. “Plus, he’d never hurt her.” He cut off his sentence right there for Shay’s benefit. Because we all knew he’d hurt us given the chance.
I rubbed my chin. “You don’t have to do this for our sake. Skip the meal to take a stand or don’t. It’s no skin off my nose.”
“No, just skin off ours,” Conor said with a huff. He rubbed his hands together. “If I don’t see you through the week, I’ll see you through the window,” he declared, before clapping Shay on the shoulder and strolling off to his car.
Finn and Aoife grinned at each other, which told me exactly how they planned to spend the rest of their Sunday, before waving at us and pulling a disappearing act.
Aidan wandered off as well, Inessa kissed Camille goodbye before she and Eoghan headed for their car, and Shay and Aela began to drift off too.
Before Declan could join them, I grabbed his arm and asked, “They look good... is it just for show?”
Dec shook his head. “No. Shay’s still having nightmares, but that’s to be expected. Aela’s a bit shaken up but she’s doi
ng okay.”
“I’m glad.”
His lips twisted into a smile that was the opposite of cheerful. “Me too. We’re getting there. Thanks for being there for Shay. I meant to call you about it, but shit got busy.”
I shrugged. “No need to thank me.”
“Conor said the same thing.” Declan shook his head. “Last thing we need is him getting into fights to cope with things.”
“Just talk to him. Maybe get him into something organized. Wrestling or whatever?”
“I’ve been taking him to the shooting range.”
“Good idea. When can he be armed?”
“Not for a long while, but he can be ready for it,” Declan said with a deadly grin. “Anyway, none of us said it to you, but, congratulations.” He cast Camille a warm look. “I don’t know what’s going on with you two, but knowing Brennan, there’s something brewing... When are you throwing a reception?”
“I wasn’t planning to.”
Declan snorted. “Ever the romantic.” To Camille, he said, “You arrange it, honey, and we’ll be there. Welcome to the family.” He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her cheek, before he waved at us and started off toward his wife and son.
I leaned down and whispered into her ear, “My brothers will be the only men who’ll ever kiss you again. And even then, only on the fucking cheek.”
She shivered, just like I knew she would. I didn’t know if she was aware of it, but she was putty in my hands the second I showed any sign of possessiveness. Any other woman would bitch slap me. Camille? Got wet. I didn’t need to slip my hand between her thighs to know it either.
She turned to me, all big eyes and angelic countenance, rasping, “Good.”
I hummed. “Our Sunday has suddenly opened up. Want to go riding?”
Her excited gasp had me grinning down at her. I didn’t have a clue why I’d made that offer, especially when I hadn’t gone riding in a good four years, but for that smile? For the buzz of joy around her?
Worth it.
And that was the first clue I had, the first sign of change... when her pleasure became more important than my own.
Thirty-Two
Filthy Sex: The Five Points’ Mob Collection: Four Page 32