As she poured me a mimosa, heavy on the orange juice considering I needed to be compos mentis for the gala later on, I told her, “It’s nice to see you happy, Innie.”
Her nose crinkled at the nickname. “Innie? Ugh, haven’t I grown out of that yet?”
I grinned at her. “Nope.”
She blew me a raspberry, proceeded to take a massive gulp of her drink, which was light on the OJ, before flopping back against the squashy cushions of the sofa. I’d decided to make our base camp here because it was closest to the kitchen—girls had needs, after all.
“You’re right though. I am happy, which is kind of messed up, considering, ya know, everything.”
I shrugged. “You won’t see me disagreeing.”
Her head rocked back against the cushions for a second, before she tipped her chin forward to frown at me. “What did it feel like?”
I could have prevaricated, but I didn’t see much point. We were both glad the bastard was dead—for different reasons, of course. I just prayed she never learned that Mama had been set up by our father to be killed in the most gruesome and horrendous way a woman could be murdered.
I’d do everything in my power to make sure she never learned that horrific truth.
“It didn’t feel like anything,” I told her slowly, pausing in the application of my false eyelashes. I stopped peering at myself and looked instead into the murky cocktail we were both drinking. “I was... it was like I was in a blackout. I couldn’t tell you what it felt like, just that I couldn’t stop. Once I started, I had to carry on until it was, well, over.
“I was tired of him being a threat, tired of him tainting every breath we take. When he went to hurt me again, I was so frightened,” I whispered, shivering with the memory. “I’d already armed myself, but I didn’t think I’d use it.
“It started in self-defense... he went to grab me, and it just clicked in my mind that I didn’t have to be frightened of him. I could run and he couldn’t catch me, but when he grabbed my hand—” I released a breath, before repeating, “It just clicked in my mind.”
“Does it give you nightmares?”
I winced. “I suppose it should.”
“Meaning it doesn’t?”
“No. I sleep quite well.”
Her lips twisted. “Regular orgasms do that for a woman, I guess.”
We shared a grin. “How’s... everything down below?”
Nose crinkling again, she mumbled, “Almost back to normal. It’s been strange not being able to touch him like that.” Her gaze turned distant. “I think it’s made us closer. I’d tell him again just to stop it from getting worse... so that’s something.”
“He was annoyed you didn’t tell him, wasn’t he?”
“Furious.” Her cheeks flushed with heat. “I’ve never seen him so mad, and trust me, I’ve seen him go postal.”
A short laugh escaped me. “I can believe it.”
She hummed. “These men... the Irish... they’re nothing like the Russians, are they?”
“No,” I agreed, “but maybe we just know the wrong ones.”
“Perhaps,” she muttered doubtfully, and I couldn’t blame her.
I thought about our poor baby sister, promised to Maxim, my future freedom leveraged against a wedding band on her finger, and guiltily, I whispered, “We’re lucky.”
“We are.” She cast me a look. “Before I told him everything, about the rash… Eoghan told me he loved me. For the first time.”
Happiness filled me. “Oh, Innie, I’m so glad for you.” And I was. Inessa deserved all the love in the world. “Let me guess, that made him angrier with you?”
Her nose crinkled. “It did.”
I sighed. “Men.”
“Men,” she concurred, before she pouted. “Why didn’t you tell me you were dating Brennan?”
“We weren’t exactly chitchatting about each other’s love life, Innie. Why would I tell you anything when you didn’t want to tell me anything?” I hedged, which made her grumble:
“You could still have said something.”
My smile hid the truth in the lie. “It was too early to talk about it.”
“Not too early for you to marry him,” she pointed out with a laugh. “I know the O’Donnellys move fast, but Christ.”
I shrugged. “He liked it so he put a ring on it.”
She hooted at that, then said, “I gotta listen to that.”
Grinning, I watched as she leaped onto her feet, and when our house computer connected with her phone and Beyoncé blasted through the speakers, I danced a little as I finished with my make-up.
When the song came to an end, she asked, “You’ll come to Vespers with me tomorrow?”
“I promise. I doubt the invitation to the family homestead has been reinstated,” I said with a laugh, finding that I wasn’t all that concerned about Brennan’s parents’ reception.
Even if Aidan Sr. was insane, I didn’t think he’d hurt me like my father had.
She bit her lip, seeming nervous which had me waiting for a difficult question. Only, I didn’t get one. Inessa just asked, “Do you think it will be a late night?”
Every night was a late night right now, but that didn’t stop life from churning on, or from Brennan being on constant call.
In the time I’d known him, he’d woken me up because he got in so late, and he left way before the sun had a chance to rise most mornings. He didn’t exactly live a good life, spending most of his time working, and not exactly at the job he loved.
I didn’t think being a made man could be included in that, ‘work a job you love and you never work a day in your life’ BS.
“I mean, I guess so. Why?” was all I told my sister. She didn’t need to know that the second Brennan did get home, he was on me faster than Usain Bolt.
“Well, the in-laws and me have a little ritual now.”
“You, Lena and Aidan Sr.?” I blurted out, aghast.
She sputtered out a laugh. “No! Are you crazy? Seeing them on Sundays is more than enough.” Her grin turned cheeky. “I meant the sisters-in-law.”
“Ohhh.”
“Yeah, ohhh. Well, we’ve started a thing where we go to The Plaza Palm Court and we have brunch together on Saturdays. Just a couple of times a month, you know? I’d like you to be there.”
God, it had been years since I’d visited the Palm Court. I’d never wanted to visit again, but turning down this invitation would be stupid when I was working hard to cultivate our relationship.
Hesitantly, I asked, “Are you okay with me attending? I don’t want to cramp your style or anything.”
“What style?” she asked wryly. “Anyway, before, I probably would have told them you were a bitch, but now? I like you. Weird that it took you killing Father for me to realize that.”
I laughed a little. “We really need to stop being okay with this.”
Inessa shrugged. “He was a prick. What are we supposed to do? Mourn the bastard who married me off to a man I’d never met? Or the one who pushed you to run away because he wanted to tie you to an ancient creep?” Her grin made another reappearance. “Anyway, the way we live, the way our men make their livings, it’d be pious and hypocritical of me to condemn you for it.”
“When you put it like that—”
Her nod was stout. “Exactly.” She leaned forward. “Guess what.”
“What?” I whispered.
She tapped her nose. “Have you heard of The Whistler?”
I blinked, then frowned when I thought about that name. “It rings a bell. Is he a sniper or something?”
“Yep, he’s a sniper.” Banked heat flared to life in her eyes. “Eoghan’s The Whistler.”
A surprised gasp escaped me. “No way.”
“Way.” She bounced on her seat. “Isn’t that the hottest thing ever?”
I laughed. “I mean, I guess, if you’re into that type of thing which you quite clearly are.”
“I guess it’d be funky if you were into th
at too.”
“More than funky,” I agreed. “What does Brennan do? In the Points, I mean.”
She pursed her lips. “Mostly, I think he’s the go to guy to get everyone out of trouble. I think he started off handling some of their shipments, maybe managed their stock of whores, but I think it’s morphed over time.”
“Into what?” The idea of him working with hookers made my stomach twist. Even though prostitution was as much a part of this life as dying violently.
“Well, a bit of everything. He deals with the gambling dens and the protection rackets too. It’s not fair really. He’s taken on Aidan Jr.’s jobs, so he has his hands in a lot of pies.”
When I thought about his schedule, it fit.
“What’s going on with Aidan Jr.? Why has Brennan taken on a lot of his work?”
She leaned closer. “On Aoife and Finn’s wedding day, they were shot down in a drive-by shooting. I only learned this afterward, but that was when the Irish made a deal with Father. I was the sacrificial lamb.” She pulled a face. “Anyway, in the shooting, Aoife got hit really badly. She almost died. And Aidan, well, he got hit too. Ever since then, he’s been hooked on pain meds.”
I whistled under my breath. “Shit.”
“About sums it up,” she agreed. “So, he’s a liability, but they all protect him from Aidan Sr.”
“Doesn’t he know? I mean, he seemed pretty shrewd to me.”
“He is, but the guys cover for Aidan. I don’t think they want to cause him trouble with their dad.”
“That’s sweet, I guess.”
She shrugged. “Maybe. Depends on if it’s making things too easy for him, you know?”
“You think he needs to bottom out?”
“For as long as I’ve known him, he’s been wired. I think he definitely needs a short, sharp shock.”
I pondered that. “You know... when I was at their folks’ place, I saw something.”
“What?”
“Photos—”
She rolled her eyes. “There are, like, thousands of photos, Cammie.”
“Yeah, but these ones stuck out to me at the time. One was of Aidan Sr. and a guy who looked like his brother. The other only registered because I recognized Finn from the papers. The pictures caught my eye because of Aidan’s reaction to our news, but the next day...” My voice waned.
“The next day?” Inessa prompted, curiosity making her give me her full attention, enough that she switched off her phone.
“When we were in the churchyard, I noticed that they all look alike.” I licked my lips. “All of them, Innie.”
Our eyes clashed.
“You can’t say anything to Brennan,” was her initial response.
“Why not?” I whispered, unease filtering through me.
“If he finds out, if any of the brothers find out, they’ll go crazy.”
“I already asked Brennan about the photo, Inessa. He said it was his Uncle Frank.”
“Jesus.” She winced, admitting, “Aela brought it up the first time we all had brunch together. I’d noticed it thanks to all the photos as well. I’m not sure how the guys haven’t put two and two together yet, but they haven’t. Maybe they don’t see it because they’re so close, I don’t know, but—”
“Aidan Sr.’s brother is Finn’s dad?”
Inessa blinked. “No. Aidan Sr. is Finn’s dad.”
My mouth dropped open. “No way!”
Her head bobbed. “Yes, definitely. Aoife confirmed it.”
“Finn knows?” I queried, my voice hushed like people could hear us talking in the privacy of my empty apartment.
“He does,” she muttered. “Weird, right?”
“Definitely.” Disappointment filled me. “I thought they were so in love.”
Inessa seemed to understand what I was saying. “Oh, they are. Aidan’s besotted with Lena. According to her, she keeps him happy in the bedroom and it stops him from cheating,” she said with a laugh. “This happened in the early days of their marriage, don’t forget. Ask Brennan, and he’ll tell you all about the ‘rolling pin incident.’ That was what had Aidan Sr. falling head over heels for her.”
“What ‘rolling pin incident?’”
“Apparently, she bashed him over the head with one—”
Before she could carry on, an alarm buzzed on my phone, reminding me that I had less than an hour until the limo was on its way. Bagpipes had given me those details, not Brennan. I hadn’t heard from him all day.
“God, is it that time already?” I muttered, wishing that the gala wasn’t happening because I wanted to know more.
Inessa stretched on the sofa. “I’ll let you get on. Eoghan will probably be home by now anyway.” She grinned at me. “I think I might let him make it up to me for, ya know, making my whole vajayjay look like it was from another planet.”
I winced. “That bad?”
“Cammie, you’ve got no idea. It was gross. I can laugh now, but...” She shuddered. “Never again. Brazilians all the way.”
“Who knew that would be less painful?”
Her giggle made me feel like I was lit up from the inside out. It was so good to hear that, so good to have this again.
“That tells you how bad it was.” She got to her feet, stretched again, then bobbed down to press a kiss to my cheek. “I don’t think I’ve seen you this content in years, Cammie. I’m so happy for you.”
That we were both on the same track had my heart feeling full. I kissed her cheek too, and whispered, “I think we’ve both found our places.”
“I know we have,” was her strident reply. “Anyway, I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“You will.”
“The Plaza, eleven AM. It’s okay if you have to cancel, but it’d be cool for you to meet them properly. They’re really nice.” She pulled a face. “Don’t mention what we talked about, though. It might get Aoife upset.”
“I’ll be there and I won’t say anything,” I promised her, making a silent vow that I’d stand up to Brennan about this if he decided we were going out somewhere else.
I wasn’t going to say that I let him steamroll over me all the time—even if he pretty much did. But I was still finding my footing.
“I can’t wait,” she said with a little squeal, before she shot me a wave and pretty much danced out of the living room.
When she was gone, the elevator letting out a few beeps as she departed, I peered at myself in the mirror. I’d spent too much time looking into the damn thing, but I wanted to be Brennan’s idea of a dream date. Silly, sure, but why wouldn’t I want to be that, especially when he was mine?
When Innie had invited herself over for coffee to see my dresses, I’d thought she was a welcome distraction from fretting about Nyx, but that hadn’t been the case. I hadn’t thought about him or the Sinners once. Compassion for Quin filled me, but that was it. No more, no less, and it was such a weight off my heart to take a step forward without the past shadowing every move I made.
I’d spent months pining for the man, wringing my hands over him and what would never be, and in a week, Brennan had turned my world on its head.
“It’s amazing what a couple dozen orgasms will do to a girl’s confidence,” I muttered under my breath, but my grin was wry as I gave my make-up a final check.
Innie was right—I did look happy.
For the first time in too long, I wasn’t digging my nails into my palms, wasn’t even tempted to seek out my kit. I didn’t doubt that the urges would come and go, but this week, my palms were getting a much needed chance to heal.
Deciding I was done, I wandered down the hall to the bedroom, dropping the bathrobe I’d put on earlier for ease with changing once my hair and make-up was set.
I’d showered before I started getting ready, so I stepped into the garter belt and slipped on my stockings. There’d been no mistaking how much Brennan had loved those, so it made me smile to put on a different set—black silk, with a black and silver filigree detailing on the bands.<
br />
That was pretty much it for undergarments.
It was risqué but I didn’t care. I wanted the picture he’d painted this morning for me.
I wanted him to be able to slip his hand between my legs and for him to feel my pussy. I wanted to dance with him in a busy crowd, and for him to be able to touch me how he wanted.
Biting my lip at just the thought, making me grateful that I’d yet to apply lipstick, I tried to ignore the way my body lit up but it wasn’t that easy. Not when my nips were so erect I could probably hang my dress off them.
Grinning, I eyed said dress as I slipped into it. Like this morning, it cupped my body like it was made for me, and as expensive as it was, it was still off the rack, but you’d never tell.
It swayed and swung with every movement, and the split was just a few scant inches from baring all.
I resettled my breasts, and grabbed some tit tape that would hopefully keep them in place, then looked at myself.
I wore the star pendant that had started this entire madcap journey, the dress, and nothing else, and I looked good.
“You look better than good,” I whispered under my breath, accepting it.
Embracing it.
I did.
With my hair curled the way it was, in thick waves that I’d set with a few pins, I looked like Marilyn Monroe—just a skinnier version.
I’d picked up a pair of high heels too, strappy things that were dangerous, and all the more beautiful for it. Just a single strap at the ankle and a point at the toe were all that were keeping me attached to six inches of stiletto.
Everything about today’s look was different than before.
BN—Before Nyx.
Then, I’d dressed for the role I was in—whore.
Now, I looked like a star.
I’d been feeling better about myself of late, but at that moment, I was on top of the world. Even had a bounce to my step—which was dangerous in these heels—as I swished out of the bedroom and into the hall.
I’d purchased a pea coat too, obsidian gray silk with a velvet lining to ward off the chill, and as that swirled around my calves as well, I felt like a princess.
It didn’t matter that I was about to face New York society, didn’t matter that, a quick Google search of tonight’s gala, informed me of just how many important people were going to be in attendance—I was Brennan O’Donnelly’s bride.
Filthy Sex: The Five Points’ Mob Collection: Four Page 38