Page 103 of Chains of Recompense
This might be a performance for Raf, but the truth is I always did dream of being a mom, of finding a person who could love me the way my parents love each other, of sharing all that chaotic warmth and devotion for a lifetime.
But that dream was before everything got so messy.
Now, I’m old enough to recognize that life just isn’t in the cards for me.
Raf squeezes my hand, his thumb brushing over my knuckles in that absent, intimate way that sends sparks skittering up my spine, and I blush, turning my gaze away from him as I pray he didn’t read the sadness in my eyes.
“We’re in no rush,” he adds, turning his attention back to the Doyles. “But family is important to us.”
The commissioner nods, pleased. “That’s good. That’s very good.”
I should be relieved that they’re clearly buying what we’re here to sell. Instead, every look Raf gives me feels loaded, every touch too real.
Dinner arrives, but rather than release my hand, Raf holds it under the table, his thumb tracing slow, grounding circles across my palm.
I can barely breathe.
This is supposed to be an act. But as Raf leans closer, his breath warm in my ear as he pretends to murmur something just for me, I realize with a twist of longing and fear that I’m not sure where the performance ends anymore.
And I don’t know how to stop wanting more.
24
RAFAEL
“See if you can buy me some time to chat with the commissioner uninterrupted,” I murmur against the shell of Aisling’s ear. Her scent is warm and intoxicating, a dangerous potential for distraction, but I can’t let emotion slow the momentum Aisling has so gracefully built for me this evening.
The dinner is going exactly the way it needs to, in large part because of the fiery redhead at my side.
That, more than anything, feels like a small miracle.
And while I want to tell her just how damn sexy she is when she’s charming the pants off these politicians, we’re not through the woods just yet.
Aisling gives an airy laugh, her azure eyes soft and inviting as she turns to smile at me like I just whispered sweet nothings in her ear.
Then she brushes the lightest of kisses against my cheek and turns her attention back to the women who sit across from her.
A flawless performance—if only my cock were on board with the idea.
But the chaste kiss is all it takes to have me swelling, straining against the zipper of my slacks.
Shifting subtly in my seat to adjust myself, I take a moment to get my mind out of the gutter and my arousal back under control before I turn my attention back to business.
Commissioner Doyle couldn’t have offered me a better setting for tonight’s mission.
The restaurant is discreet luxury.
Dark wood, low light, a wine list that could buy a small island. The kind of place where power doesn’t raise its voice because it doesn’t need to.
The commissioner fits in seamlessly, relaxed in his tailored suit, his wife warm and observant at his side.
And Aisling… Christ.
She’s utter perfection.
Not in the ornamental way so many women at these tables try to be, but sharp and alive.
She threads wit through conversation with perfect timing, offers a smile when one is needed, a thoughtful pause when silence will speak louder.
