Sins of Seven Boxset: Part One: Kneel, Obey, Indulge

by René, Dani

  “It’s fine. She’s . . . I just haven’t told her.”

  “Who is she, brother?” Callan questions, gulping his whiskey. His eyes are darker than both mine and Leigh’s. They’re a coffee color, and they seem to pierce me in that moment, digging into my mind to find out why there’s a woman who looks so much like Aurora in my apartment and club.

  “I’m training her.”

  “How exciting!” My sister bounces excitedly, but I don’t hold the same enthusiasm. I can’t. How can I when all I want is to feel something other than affection for Peyton? I wasn’t meant to care for her, but I find myself wanting her more than I ever thought possible.

  “Calm down, Leigh,” I tell her, hoping she’ll not get attached to Peyton the way she did with Rory. There was a sweetness in the relationship, sisters in arms. Each moment they spent together was just more time that my sister cried over. I don’t need to see her agony again.

  “Maybe she’ll get that stick out from your ass.” Callan chuckles, earning him a swat from our sister. “What? It’s true. He needs to lighten the fuck up.” One thing about my brother, he always says what’s on his mind. There’s never a time you’ll wonder what he thinks of you.

  “Are you two staying upstairs?” I question, glancing between them. When we’re all three together, there’s a camaraderie that warms my soul. I know I couldn’t have survived losing the woman I love without them there. The support and affection they offered got me through the darkness that seemed to envelop me.

  “Yeah. If you don’t mind, of course. Now that you have a little toy to play with.” Callan snorts. My gaze lands on him, pinning him with an angry glare. “What? I’m just joking. When does this place open? I need to find myself someone delicious to devour.” His words incite worry in my mind. I know my brother isn’t a Dominant as such, but he does love toys, and he enjoys women submitting, allowing him to do anything he wants to them.

  “In an hour. Let’s get you settled, and perhaps after, you can come down and watch Mason and Savvie’s show,” I offer, grabbing my sister’s suitcase. Allowing them to follow me up the stairs, I take them through the hallway and into the elevator that takes us to the landing with two doors beckoning. One mine, one Mason’s. However, there’s a third floor I reserve for guests. We take the short flight of stairs to the apartment that we normally house any guests in.

  It’s beautifully furnished, but I never had an inkling to make it mine. Mason has always preferred the penthouse as well, even though this one has its own floor. However, most nights he spends at Savvie’s place. I’ve always wondered how long he’ll wait to propose or finally collar her. It’s been years, but for some reason, the man is just enjoying what he has now.

  “Wow, this place is amazing,” Leigh murmurs behind me as I lead them into the wide-open space.

  Modern furnishings greet us. With dark tiles and white walls, the area looks like it’s straight from a magazine. “You’re welcome to stay as long as you like,” I inform them. “There’s food in the fridge, four bedrooms, living room, kitchen, and each bedroom has an en suite.”

  “Thank you, big brother.” Leigh swings her arms around my neck, holding me close until my eyes mist. I never cry. I didn’t even cry when Rory was killed, but right now, having my little sister hang on me as if I’m her world, I allow the emotion to travel through me. Just for now.

  “Thanks, Rick,” Cal utters, patting me on the back. “I’ll head to the shower. See you later,” he says. My brows furrow in confusion. He’s always been aloof, but he’s even more so now than normal.

  “Is he okay?” I question my sister, who nods. “He seems . . .”

  “He’s just feeling angry that he has to be here instead of London with the woman he’s been shagging,” she says, her British accent heavy on the final word. So, Callan’s been fucking someone. My brother has always been a playboy, never caught up in one person, so this is news to me.

  “And he’s all caught up over one woman?” She shrugs in response. “Listen, I want you both to enjoy your time here. Hell, stay if you want to. But, I need to go and talk to Peyton.” I pull Cayleigh into my arms, enveloping her in a hug so tight she’s mumbling about losing all ability to breathe.

  “I’ve missed you, Rick. It’s not the same without you. Even Dad isn’t the same without you.” I nod, swallowing the emotional lump in my throat.

  “I’ll see you later, Leigh. Tell Cal to get that stick out from up his ass and join us downstairs in an hour.” She giggles as I make my way out of the apartment and down to my own. Upon entering, I find a blonde beauty moving around the kitchen as if she owns it.

  “Oh,” Peyton squeals when I step into the space, startling her. “I thought you were spending the evening with your family, so I made some ravioli, but it’s only one portion,” she tells me, gesturing to the stove where two pots are boiling. Something in them smells delicious.

  “We need to talk.” My ominous words have her pretty brows scrunching in confusion. “It’s about my family.” Peyton nods, settling on the chair opposite me. The soft simmer of the water and sauce cooking behind us calms me, but what I’m about to tell Peyton is going to leave me raw.

  I never thought I’d need to do this. To confess, admit who I really am. It’s been so long since I’ve even accepted it, made mention of it. Everything feels foreign. As if I’m out of my depth.

  “Look, Carrick, you really don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to,” she says, sensing my fear in admitting it, in finally offering more of myself than I wanted to. “I understand you said no personal details, and this certainly seems personal.”

  I nod. “It is, but . . .” My words taper off into silence. Into the nothing that exists between us. That’s where my problem lies. All the women I’ve been with before having been just that--nothing. They’ve meant nothing to me, until Peyton. And I can’t explain why, but I want her to understand who I am. What I was. My name isn’t just Carrick Anderson. She needs to know where my roots lie.

  14

  Peyton

  He sits silently, and I want to hold him. I want to pull him into my arms and promise I’m not going anywhere, but what he’s about to tell me clearly has him tense. His shoulders are bunched, the way his shirt tightens around his biceps tells me he’s more than worried.

  There’s tension between us, swirling in the room. I hold my breath, wanting to hear every word, but my heart is pounding in my ears. If I told him how I felt, how I’m slowly falling for him and his brand of dominance, I’ll either lose him, or I’ll lose myself.

  Gold eyes meet my green ones. They hold anguish so profound I feel it in my soul. He always does this to me. Makes me feel more than I should. We’re meant to be nonexclusive. No strings. No emotion. But I can’t help myself when he looks at me like that. As if I’m the only thing holding him together.

  “Peyton, my real name is Carrick Aeden O’Leary.” His words don’t make sense. I’ve met him and learned his name. It’s Carrick Anderson. “I’m . . . I’ve spent a few years in America after walking out on my family.” Shaking my head, I reach for his hands, needing to touch him. To ground myself to him, and him to me. My heart leaps into my throat when he finally shakes his head and cups my cheeks.

  There’s pain dancing in those beautiful golden orbs, flickering like a flame about to engulf me in the inferno. “I don’t understand,” I hear myself say, but my voice is raspy. I feel like crying for him, because I have a feeling whatever is coming next will inadvertently break my heart.

  “I left London because there was an accident. Eight years ago.” He once again falls silent, and I realize what he’s trying to tell me. It’s why he’s so closed off. So guarded. He lost someone he loves. His chest expands as he inhales a deep breath.

  “It’s okay, you don’t have to—”

  “I do.” He places a finger on my lips to silence me. “I was in church,” he starts, causing my heart to ache, to squeeze so tight my chest feels as if it’s caving in o
n me. I didn’t realize how much I wanted him, how much I felt for him until he mentioned he had someone else. “I was waiting for my sister to get married.”

  “Okay,” I respond, warily now because I’m not sure I want to hear this.

  “There were so many gunshots. Too many to count. I fell on my sister, covering her, keeping her safe, but . . .” The lowering of his already gentle rumble causes me to lean forward. To swallow every word, to bask myself in his pain. Dropping my gaze to our hands, I notice how they’re linked, fingers twining around each other. Needy. Wanting. “The woman I was engaged to was killed. Aurora. She …” Deep breath. “She was a beautiful blonde with piercing green eyes. There was a time I thought I couldn't love, and then she happened to me.”

  Why does it feel as if my lungs can’t pull in air? Why do I feel like I’m drowning?

  “My family is part of the Irish Mob, Peyton.” It’s then he meets my curious gaze. A gasp echoes around us, falling from my lips. Shaking my head, I release his hands. Tugging away as if I’m on fire, I rise too quickly, knocking the chair over. Blonde, green eyes, Irish mob. No. No!

  I can’t do this again. Michael was a henchman of the mafia in New York. He did things that would make horror movies seem like Disney. Shaking my head, I stumble backward, knocking a glass from the counter, and it shatters along with my heart.

  “I . . .”

  “Peyton,” he says my name as a plea. I watch him rise. My feet don’t allow me to move. They root me to the spot like concrete. His body is before me, looming, warm, but the danger I see in his eyes grip my throat. It tightens its hold on me. “I’ll give you space. I know this is a lot to take in.”

  “I need to go home.” I find my voice. It’s husky, filled with shock. “I . . . I can’t be here.” Before he can come any closer, I’m racing through the living room, pulling on a sweater. My bones feel as if the cold has seeped into them.

  “Peyton, please?” He’s begging. I’m breaking him as much I’m broken. I’m shattering everything I’ve wanted. Carrick made me feel, he gave me something to ache for, to indulge in, but this is done. I can’t go through sleepless nights again.

  “Carrick, this was . . . We were never meant to be here.” I don’t know what I mean, his brows furrow in confusion, and I know I’m not making any sense. My brain feels as if it’s spinning out of control. Irish mob, blonde, green eyes.

  The words replay in my mind like a broken record. Looping. Again and again.

  “I’m not a consolation prize, Carrick.” I spin on my heel, shocking him at the ferocity of my words. “What did you do? Picture her while fucking me? Did you want to call out her name while my pussy was squeezing your cock?” With each question, I punch him in the chest. Not that he feels it. He doesn’t even flinch.

  “Listen to me,” he starts, but I continue.

  “No. You listen to me. I’m not a slave you can use for your own sick pleasure. Was I her replacement? Is that why you wanted me so much?”

  “No!”

  His response booms around me, knocking the fight from me. I blink. Tears stream down my face, but I don’t wipe them away. I don’t want to. I need him to see what he did to me.

  “Is this what control you’d like to have over me? Make me feel something, and then tell me how I’m the ghost you’ve been fucking for the past few days?”

  “No. You’re not her. You’re not a ghost either. That’s why I told you, I—”

  “Do you have a photo of her?” The question stills him for a moment. He doesn’t move, a solid statue of agony. He nods. “Let me see. I need to see her,” I tell him adamantly. He reaches for his wallet, pulls out a small square photo of him and a woman who could’ve been my twin. She was beautiful.

  The photo blurs when more salty emotion spills from my eyes. He wanted me only to have her back in his life. He didn’t really want me. He made it clear.

  “This wasn’t how I foresaw things to go. I didn’t think I’d ever love again.” His confession knocks the air from my lungs. Snapping my gaze to him, I drop the photo on the table, not caring if it falls to the floor, but he doesn’t move.

  “Love?” I cough out the word on a chuckle. “You know nothing about the word love, Carrick Anderson, O’Leary, whatever the fuck your name is. I came here, agreed to be yours to learn, but I didn’t agree to be a stand in for the woman you lost.”

  I pivot, heading for the door, but before I can even wrench it open, his body is there, against my back. His hand on the wall, caging me in, the other holding my exit shut. I can’t move. He’s too strong, and I’ve lost my fight.

  “Don’t go.” His words drip with such anguish, I turn to face him, to look into his eyes. I want to believe it’s me he wants, but how can I?

  “Why?” He doesn’t respond immediately, and I have a feeling he’s trying to choose his words very carefully. His eyes burn into me, setting me on fire. This is the seduction of Carrick. He’s beautiful, he’s broken, and my soul cries out because I want him to be mine. But he’s not. He can’t be if he’s holding on to a faded memory. Holding on to a woman who’s gone.

  “I need you, Peyton,” he offers then. We stare at each other for a long moment, heavy with emotion, with the fragility of what we have. I knew I’d succumb to his ministrations. I’ve fallen, head first, and I didn’t even plan on it. Nothing about Carrick is safe. There’s a danger about him, but it’s not because of his family ties or what he’s done in his past. No, it lurks beneath the surface of his chest, that cracked heart that holds love for her, and the emotion he’s so desperately trying to grasp for me.

  “You need me?”

  “Yes,” he hisses, leaning in, inhaling my scent. He’s as addicted to me as I am to him.

  “Do I smell like her?” I don’t know why I ask, but I do. The words fall from my mouth unbidden, but they’re there, hanging between us like a lead weight.

  “No. Nothing about you is like her. You’re pure, beautiful, and there’s an innocence to you that I want to mark, I want to claim.”

  “Wasn’t she innocent?” My throat closes when he snaps his gaze to mine. The fire that rages through him singes me, slow and deliberate. He’s doing it on purpose, showing me inside his heart, his mind.

  “She was the daughter of one of my father’s associates. A mob boss's daughter. She was far from innocent. We found each other in darkness, and I knew that’s where we’d stay until the day a bullet took one of us out. But I didn’t realize the moment for her would come so soon.”

  He releases me then. Stepping back, he waits for me to run, but I don’t. If there’s one thing my mother taught me, it was to stand my ground. Fight for what I want. Never give up. But to fight for a man who loves another, that’s something else entirely. I want Carrick, but he lied. At least, he didn’t admit that I looked like his ex and that was the only reason he wanted me. I was a ghost he was holding onto, and that slices me deeper than anything else.

  “She gave me purpose for the time she was in my life, but you . . .” His words taper into nothing, into the air around us that sizzles. Suddenly, there’s a loud screeching beep, and I realize the pots must’ve set off the alarm. Carrick races into the kitchen, shoving open the windows, turning off the cooker.

  “Shit,” I utter when I see the dark smoke against the pristine white walls. Tears burn my eyes in that moment. Like my love for Rick, which is going up in smoke, so I’ve ruined his home. I should leave. I shouldn’t be here. My heart aches at the thought of walking away.

  “It’s fine.” He doesn’t look at me. His gaze is trained on the open window. His hands grip the sink in a white-knuckle grip. “Peyton, you stumbled into my life, and I didn’t think I could love you. I agreed to train you because you looked like her, but I chose you because I hated her for leaving me, even though it wasn’t her choice. I hated how life stole her from me, and I was convinced I could never love again, even If the girl looked like her. But it happened. I want you, Peyton.”

  “Rick, I can’t d
o this.” He pivots, his eyes on mine in an instant, stealing my breath just like he always does. “I . . . I mean, I understand how you can love someone so much you need them in your life. But, this is so much more. I can’t be second best, or a consolation prize.”

  I don’t know how to take his explanation. Part of my heart wants to go to him. The other half wants to walk out the door. But how can I when I’ve fallen, when my soul sings for him? My body craves him, aches for his touch. My mouth hungers for his kiss.

  “You’re not a fucking consolation prize.” His anger vibrates through him. It hurts me. It shatters him, and I realize I’ve done this as much as he has. We’ve broken each other. This is not right. When you love someone, you’re meant to heal them, to put them back together, not completely obliterate them.

  Perhaps it’s stupid. Maybe it’s because I begged him to take my innocence. To violate the promise I gave Michael because he hurt me, and I could no longer hold onto the girl I was with him. She was gone, and in her place was a woman.

  But when he turns to regard me once more, I know none of that is true. I see it shining clearly in his eyes. I’m in love with Carrick, and he’s in love with me. He doesn’t say it. He implores me with his gaze to understand. It’s shining in the gold flecks. His hands fist at his sides, and I know he’s holding onto his restraint. Shaking my head, I step back. He doesn’t follow, and I don’t expect him to.

  The man can be loving and caring, but he can also be cold and controlled. A commanding force when he needs to be, and now I know the truth as to why he is like that. A soldier. Taught and trained to kill.

  “Peyton, there’s nothing more I can say. But what I need you to know is that it’s you. You’re the one who changed me. In a short time, you are the one who’s given me more than I can imagine having in my life. I’m no good for you, but I’ll never stop trying to win your heart.”