by Fiona Murphy
“Has that been a problem in the past?” There was a way he said it that gave her pause.
“For one uncle, yes, and it was the reason my wife and I divorced. Which is quite ironic, in that it seemed the main reason she wanted to marry me. She wanted to leave Belfast and come to the States, but within a few years she was crying to go back. As I didn’t share her desire, she returned and I stayed.”
It shouldn’t have surprised her that Declan had been married. In many ways she was shocked he wasn’t currently married. Yet the very idea of him married to another woman nearly blinded her with jealousy. To cover her response, she sipped her wine and fought the desire to swallow the entire glass in one go. Miranda was proud of herself for the control she maintained. “That must have been a disappointment.” Even as the words tumbled from her numb lips, she wondered why she said what she did.
He shook his head with a sad smile. “It should have been, but it wasn’t, and I think that’s maybe the saddest thing. My uncle wasn’t keen on me taking over without first being settled. It wasn’t a clear condition, but I knew it was what he wanted. So many of the women I encountered at school wanted to take on the world and conquer it, and that didn’t appeal me. After a few months, my uncle invited me back to Ireland, saying he had several women he thought would do me well.
“I knew Mary in the time I was in Ireland, and we had dated for what seemed like a long time to a teenager, nearly a year. When I met her again she already knew what I was looking for, and she was still pretty, and I figured, sure, why not? For the first year it wasn’t so bad, but it wasn’t long after that before she started hungerin’ for home. It quickly went downhill after that. What about your marriage?”
As she listened to him, she knew she should be dismayed by his obviously traditional desires for his wife to be without any ambition other than to be his wife and likely mother to his children. Yet she couldn’t fault him, when she had grown up it was all she wanted, and only became the climber she was now because of her ex-husband. “It’s funny the things we do for family, isn’t it? I more or less married my husband to make my father happy. He didn’t just hint, he came right out and told me he hated the idea of me not married. He wanted a man to take care of me. His cancer was progressing fast, and it was pretty clear he didn’t have much time.
“While I didn’t like his fifties attitude that I couldn’t take care of myself, it was obvious how much it meant to him. I had been seeing Michael for a year at the time. We met my first year in college at DePaul. He was a friend of one of my professors, and he came early to have lunch with the professor, but the next day he came back to talk to me. He had built a small brokerage house that was very successful. Added to that he was ten years older than me, and I was in awe someone like him would be interested in me. He took the not-so-subtle hint from my father. I knew it was what my father wanted, so even though I did worry we hadn’t been together long enough, I said yes anyway.
“The first year it wasn’t so bad, definitely a honeymoon period but little by little he became more and more controlling. I kept thinking it wasn’t so bad until I was given a promotion that would require me to travel, and he told me I couldn’t take the job. I think we had just passed our five-year mark, and I was done. I took the job, and the very next day he turned off and tuned me out completely. As far as he was concerned, it was over. He started to do his own thing, which included other women. When he found one he liked best, because she was young and stupid enough to be his new toy to shape and mold, he moved on.
“The only thing I regret was not being the one to walk away, staying even though I knew it was over. I knew what was happening, but there was a part of me still too afraid of what life would be like outside of my marriage. Even then I knew it was stupid, as I didn’t need him. It was just safe behind the wall of saying I was married when people asked for things or came on to me. I was relieved when he left, because even though I thought I was safe behind the wall, really I was suffocating behind it, and finally I could breathe again.
“Once he moved on, he moved on, and he was quite generous in the end. The settlement was far more than I would have expected from him. He really just wanted me to sign the papers and go away quietly, which I was more than content to do.”
“So he did not break your heart, my dear?” Declan’s words were soft and sincere, and her answer seemed important to him.
Sadly, she shook her head. “I did care about him, but the time when I might have grown to love him kept getting interrupted by his controlling and demanding habits. It was my fault too. I married him not sure I loved him but believing it would come, and that wasn’t fair to him either.”
He seemed satisfied at her answer. “Ah, love and marriage. My uncle tells me marrying for love is the stupidest thing a person can do. My da told me it was the only way to marry. I wonder often myself. My da married for love and his bride ran away, never to be found. My uncle married because my aunt’s father wanted to be rid of her, and he settled a tidy packet on my uncle and they’re still married to this day. True now, they live in separate houses, and if you mention one to the other it’s sure to set off curse words, but who’s to say.
“Tell me what led you to go into accounting and not into business of the market with your ex-husband?”
“Michael did suggest a switch, but I had a plan in motion already. I researched long and hard what degree would allow me to be my own boss and in control of my work and workday. No matter what, people need an accountant, even if it’s just at tax time. I had plans that once children came along, I could maybe work part-time, or just a few hours a week, or maybe even at some time open my own business. I just wanted something that would allow me the most options wherever my life would take me. I was lucky that once I went into the program, I actually liked it.” Finishing her wine, she hoped she didn’t sound as wistful as she thought she did.
“I’m impressed. You managed to finish your wine at the same time as your meal. This indicates a very controlled and careful personality. Are you going to allow yourself dessert, I wonder?”
“Hmm, and I thought Jung wasn’t one for you Irish.” She leaned back in her chair and placed her napkin beside her plate. It annoyed her that he was making a study of her and was so damn good at it. “If dinner was this good, I’m looking forward to dessert.”
His smile went wide, and he picked up his plate and her own and left the room. She exhaled with relief as he left, and wiped her sweating palms on the napkin. He knew just how and when to apply pressure to the best effect. She longed to escape his intoxicating pull, and made a plan to not finish her dessert, to put an end to it as soon as possible.
“Here we go. It seems we have a selection.” Setting down a large platter that contained several different tiny tarts he placed a small plate in front of her with a bow.
Her attention was taken up entirely by the delectable and ridiculously pretty tarts. The idea of eating them seemed absurd. There were two of each: a lemon tart, a fruit tart, a chocolate tart, and a cheesecake tart with a thin strawberry on top.
“Changed your mind?”
“No, but—”
“But what?”
“They’re too pretty to eat.”
Rich, throaty laughter chased down her tummy, and he was even more beautiful, and the air went out of her completely. He looked up, and their eyes met, and she knew he could read her reaction to him. He went still, and his eyes fell to her lips, and it became harder to breathe. His cell phone rang, startling her out of her reverie, and she forced her gaze back to the tarts, but not seeing anything but the hunger in his eyes. The ringing stopped, but he didn’t answer the phone, and she looked up in surprise.
“It was nothing important. Please take one, darlin’, and enjoy it. Something so pretty should not go unappreciated.” Declan’s voice was husky, and his eyes were back on her lips.
Reaching for the chocolate tart, she almost winced at the sight of her trembling hand. She brought the tart to her mouth and
took a delicate bite. Her taste buds were flooded with a creamy, delicately sweet velvet dream of chocolate. Miranda licked her lips, and she watched his jaw clench. She finished the small tart, but it was harder to swallow when she realized her mouth was completely dry. Her response began to overwhelm her, and she tore her eyes away and reached for the glass of ice water. “It was excellent, but I’m afraid that was enough for me. I like sweets but I hate working out, and I’m sure that managed to exceed what I might have burned walking today. Thank you for dinner, but I think it’s time I got to working through the books.”
She stood, grateful her shaky legs held her up as she crossed to the desk she had worked at the day before. She was relieved her request not to move things around had been honored, and forced herself to focus on her task and not the man behind her, despite the fact she could feel his eyes burning into her. Pulling the ledger closer to her, she made a show of studying it, but it was all a show. Her body was concerned only for the feel of his eyes on her. At last she could move, and only a moment later she heard his steps on the wooden floor walking away from the room.
Chapter Five
The time passed much as it had the previous night. She heard him promise someone a recommendation for a job, and another caller was seeking help with a landlord who wouldn’t make a repair.
It felt like only a half-hour later, but as she stood and stretched, she could see it was over two hours since she’d begun. She moved to his desk, triumphant that she had found the skimmer or rather, skimmers. He looked up as she drew near, and he set down his pen, giving her all his attention.
“I found them.”
“Them?”
“Them, it’s Shannon Tanner and Ian Cormac. It seems to be Shannon Tanner as the primary, but Ian couldn’t not know what he’s doing. Several of the entries are signed off as Ian but are in Shannon’s writing. The handwriting is close, but both eights and fives are no one’s but Shannon’s. There are also several entries made in Ian’s hand that are exactly the tally Shannon had entered previously, which couldn’t possibly be correct based on the days. The ledger before this started showed a very cyclical routine. Mondays almost as heavy a take as Saturday, but nearly dead on Sunday, and while Tuesday was quiet, it built up to Friday. Yet almost a week to the day after Shannon begins making entries, they don’t match what they had been previously. I’ve put everything down that point to the both of them.”
Declan motioned he didn’t care. “Shannon is involved in both pubs, so he has to be skimming from both, but Ian is only at The Black Swan. How much, Miranda? How much do you believe they’ve managed to skim away?”
“I can’t say for certain. I don’t really feel comfortable answering that question.” He was no longer the enticing and seductive man of two hours ago. He was coldly businesslike, and a shiver snaked up her spine.
“How much, Miranda?” It was a demand.
“Likely in the area of thirty thousand, perhaps as much as forty-five thousand.”
His granite glare scared her. He was now the lethal gangster Peter had warned her against, that she had believed him to be the first day. Turing away, she began to clear up her mess. She needed to get away from him, now. Her nerves were so frazzled the ledger nearly slipped from her hand as she turned to give it back to him. He had left his desk and was only a few feet from her, and she moved back, startled by how close he was.
“What’s the matter?”
“Nothing. I’ve finished. Here, you probably want to shred my notes so that no one—well, I’m sure you’re used to that.” She held out the ledger along with the legal pad and torn pages. “I really have to get going. I’ll be back at the same time tomorrow for The Garrick.”
He took what she handed him and tossed it on his desk without looking where it landed, and she turned away to escape him.
“Miranda, talk to me, sweetheart.”
She shook her head as she moved to the door of the study. “I have to go.”
“Damn it, Miranda, what the hell is the matter now?”
Declan’s exasperation set her off. “What’s the matter now? The same thing that has been the matter since I met you, but you keep refusing to listen. You’re going to kill them, aren’t you? You can dress it up as nicely as you want, but it doesn’t change that if you scratch the surface you’re just as bad as any member of the Outfit. If Peter doesn’t pay, your men are going to hurt him enough to scare the shit out of him so that he comes through with the money, like you would anyone you lent money to. These men fucked up big time, I don’t dispute that, but anywhere else they’d be fired or prosecuted. But not in your world. That wouldn’t be enough to make sure it never happens to you again, would it? You’ll kill them and make sure everyone knows what they did, and why they paid with their lives. I can’t be with someone like you. It goes against every fiber of my moral being. I’ve said it over and over again, and still you persist.”
“I persist, damn it, because you say the words but everything else betrays you,” he said. “I can see the longing in your eyes. I can see the way your body reacts to me with your hard nipples, and the way your breath catches, and I can smell your desire, Miranda. That very first day I stood next to you and smelled the wet heat of your pussy preparing to take my cock into you.” His laugh at her blush mocked her. “You might not want to want me, but you do, and the lies you tell don’t change that.”
Miranda wanted to run. She could see the front door and freedom, but her legs wouldn’t carry her away. How? How had he slipped through her every defense? Turning to him, she found he had moved, and he was so close, too close. She stepped back and crossed her arms. It was a blatant tell, and she couldn’t give a damn how it looked. His beautiful full lips tipped up, and he reached out and ran a finger down her arm. Through her thin silk blouse, fire followed the path he left.
“Don’t touch me.” Miranda flinched to hear the words escape her in a breathy, shallow whisper.
Declan smiled wide then, a hunter assured he had won his prey. “You say the words,” he said as he reached out and encircled her wrist in an unforgiving grip. “But your body says something very different.”
Slowly, he pulled her arm away from her body. Her other arm fell to her side, and her body was open to him. Her breasts were swollen and begging for his touch; her nipples, so tight and hard she was in pain, were on full display. He leaned down and kissed one nipple lightly. It was a mere flutter of touch, but it still burned through her blouse and her bra. She bit her cheek to hold back her moan, but there was no holding back the gush of liquid heat that spread through her. He moved to her other breast and gave it the same light kiss, and she sighed. Just as she believed that kiss was the end, his mouth captured the painfully hard nipple, and sucked it hard into his hot mouth.
She couldn’t breathe. Just when she believed she might black out, he released her breast and her legs gave out from beneath her. He caught her and swung her up into his arms. Heat seeped into every inch of her body at having so much of him pressed up against her. She wanted to sink into him; she wanted to crawl inside his skin. Then he cradled her into his lap, and she could feel him hard and thick beneath her. The feeling of him pulled her violently out of the haze of desire. She pushed away from him hard, and in his surprise, he let her go.
Landing with a thump on the floor, she saw they had made it to the long leather couch. Miranda’s face was hot with shame, and she couldn’t look at him. Looking down, she saw he had managed to undo not only her blouse but her bra, and she fumbled to close it again. It didn’t help that her breasts were still heavy and hard with need. A moan of distress escaped her when her hands refused to do what she wanted them to. His hands were there to do up the bra, and she groaned and slapped at his hands. “No, stop it. You have to stop it. I can’t do this. This isn’t me. I don’t have sex with practically random strangers, who are criminals, no less. I’m fucking frigid! My nipples do not get hard at the sight of someone. I don’t fantasize about someone’s dick and get wet just t
hinking about what it would be like to taste him. I can’t even get wet masturbating on my own, for fuck’s sake. No, I can’t do this. You have to stop. Please.”
At last, she managed to work the clasp of the bra back together, but gave up on her blouse. She had only managed two buttons, and they didn’t line up. She looked up at last, begging him to understand.
Declan kneeled in front of her. “Ah, sweetheart, I wish I could, but I can’t.”
Cupping her face, he brought her mouth to his, and she went freely, without any urging. He was the sun and she was so cold at the very idea of being without him. His mouth covered hers and his tongue brushed her lips in a gentle stroke, and she opened to him. Her whole body was on fire, tuned in only to the heat of his mouth and the strokes of his tongue. Her hands were in his thick, silken hair, begging for more from him.
When he broke off the kiss, she was stunned, her breath coming in deep, gasping swallows. Standing, he pulled her with him, and with a hand tight around her wrist, he pulled her after him. Moving slowly but deliberately, he made his way up the stairs to the second floor. She knew without a doubt they were going to his bedroom, where there would be no turning back. Yet she could admit it now: there had been no turning back the moment she met him. Every instinct of self-preservation had screamed at her to get up and walk away from his offer, but need had clawed at her to say yes. Need to taste his mouth, to learn the silk of his skin, to have him deep inside her. That need had been so great, she knew now, that saying no had never been an option.
Miranda’s whole focus was on him, her body was screaming for his touch. When he flicked on the lights, she got the impression of dark brown walls and a black leather king bed. She shook her head. The lights were too much, and he sighed and flicked them back off, and she was relieved again. Then he moved back to her and picked her up and laid her on the bed. He turned on the lamp on the bedside table closest to her, and although she flinched, the light was low enough she nodded her acceptance, and then he moved down to her.