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Good. She must have finally cracked and told him about the wedding—a fact I was banking on. Our whirlwind wedding will sound so much more authentic if it comes from her, especially now she’s seen us together.
If he ever finds out what I’ve done, he’d take me out himself, with his bare hands. I get that he wants to keep the family pure and true, but how much more pure can Aoife be? She’s a goddamn virgin—though she won’t be for much longer the way I’m going. I vowed not to take her properly until we’re married, but she’s not making it easy for me.
I pour myself a double whiskey and lean back on the kitchen counter. Outside, there are men stationed around the property; there always are, but inside, the house is eerily quiet. A movement in the hallway catches my eye, a split second before Aoife slips into the kitchen, her blonde curls falling softly over her face as usual. She’s wearing one of the summer dresses Sheila bought her in Brown Thomas, clutching her chest like it has any hope of covering her incredible curves. ‘You’re home,’ she exhales what I’d swear is a sigh of relief. ‘You’ve never been this late before.’
‘Were you worried about me?’ My chest tightens. No one—other than my mother—has ever been worried about me.
‘Maybe.’ She sashays closer, eyeing my drink.
‘It’s been a long day.’ I admit wearily.
Her eyes fall to my bloody knuckles. ‘Are you okay?’
Shit. I should have at least tried to hide them. I’m doing my damndest not to terrify her, both in and out of the bedroom.
But it’s not fear that flashes through her eyes.
It’s concern.
I shove my fist into my suit pocket.
‘Let me see your hands.’ She beckons me over and ushers me to the sink, pressing a kiss to my cheek.
‘I’m fine, it’s nothing.’ I put down my glass and flex my fingers. ‘See?’
‘Those cuts need cleaning.’ It’s not lost on me that those were the exact words I said to her in my bar just over six weeks ago.
She turns the tap on, reaches for the first aid box beneath the sink, and sets to work. Her touch is tender as she washes my hands, then dabs antiseptic onto my knuckles, doing something no woman has ever done for me before—taking care of me.
Her eyes dart to mine every few seconds, like she’s checking she’s not hurting me.
I already told her I don’t feel pain.
I would though, if she decides to walk away in a year.
Already, I can’t imagine not having her here in my house, in my bed, in my life.
‘What happened?’ She asks quietly.
‘A fight broke out in Dom’s.’ It’s not the whole truth, but it’s close enough.
‘I gather you ended it.’ She swallows thickly.
‘I did.’ I wet my lips. ‘Does that horrify you?’
‘No.’ She stills for a second as she thinks about it. ‘I’m beginning to realise that you only do what you have to do.’
‘What else have you come to realise about me?’ The scent of her perfume surrounds me, and I drag it deep into my lungs.
‘That maybe you’re not as bad as people think you are.’ Her eyes lift to mine.
‘I’m worse,’ I admit. She has no idea of all the fucked up things I’ve done in Sean Beckett’s sex club. Of all the things I’ve fantasised about doing to her down there.
But with her, it would be very different.
It would be a religious experience.
Because I’ve never been with a woman I actually had feelings for before. And my feelings for her are multiplying with every passing minute. ‘But I already told you, I’ll never be bad to you.’
