Page 8 of Mine
I’ve been with plenty of women in Reveal, Sean Beckett’s BDSM club. Those shared interests I mentioned earlier? Yeah, they involve a lot of kinky fuckery. No one outside the club—and I mean no one—has stirred a visceral want like the woman in front of me before. It’s one hell of an unexpected twist of fate in my quest to kill Kavanagh.
Though, of course, I won’t touch her.
I’m not like Kavanagh or any of those other cunts.
Doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate beauty when it bursts into my bar though.
Her cheeks tinge crimson under the weight of my attention.
‘It would be a marriage of convenience,’ I finally break the silence.
‘How would marrying you be convenient?’ she snaps.
Ouch. Did I offend her in another life? Run over her puppy or something? Because the way she’s scowling at me, I’d swear I personally wounded her in some way. Yet I’ve never laid eyes on her before. Her face is not one any man would forget.
‘You can’t be forced to marry Rory, if you’re already married to me.’ I thumb my chest and her focus falls to my body.
I might offend her, but she’s wondering what it would be like to fuck me. That’s not arrogance. That’s experience.
‘Look, I can protect you. Keep you safe until he’s… dealt with.’
A tiny frown furrows her forehead. ‘What’s in it for you?’
Low, rumbling laughter drifts from my lips. ‘I want him dead.’
She stills, the colour draining from her flawless face. I get that civvies don’t openly discuss murder, but given her father was one of Rory’s men, she must know the score. ‘So why not just kill him?’ She whispers.
‘My uncle made a pact with his father. We can’t touch him. Not unless he comes for us. Marrying you would incense him, hopefully enough to provoke him into coming for me.’
Marrying her to provoke Kavanagh would also incense my uncle.
Thankfully, he’s in the States.
‘What would ourarrangemententail exactly?’ Her pretty white teeth dig into her lower lip. It’s not hard to conjure what she’s imagining.
‘It would entail you moving into my place, naturally, if our union is to be believed.’ I shrug casually.
‘Would I be… a prisoner?’ Her voice cracks.
‘Fuck no! What type of monster do you think I am?’ I reach for her hand and give it what I hope is a reassuring squeeze. She jumps like she’s been tasered. I drop it, raising my palms in a peace gesture. ‘You’d be free to come and go as you pleased—with protection staff, of course.’ I soften my tone. ‘I’m not going to force myself on you, if that’s what you’re worried about. Marry me, and I’ll make sure he can’t either.’
I need her to agree to this. Kavanagh is super cautious. He never goes anywhere without protection. Even hisbusiness meetings are always in packed pubs. He knows I can’t take him out publicly. I need to coax him out of his military protected mansion on the southside and straight to my front door.
She pauses, contemplating for a beat. ‘What about my father?’
It’s on the tip of my tongue to say fuck him after what he did to her, but if keeping him safe means she’ll agree to marry me, then that’s what I’ll do. ‘If you say yes, my men will get him out of the city before nightfall.’
‘They will?’ Hope hitches her voice.
‘If you’re certain that’s want you want.’ I nod grimly.
‘It’s what I want,’ she repeats, solemnly. ‘But even if you manage to get my dad out of the city before Rory catches up with him, he has nowhere to go. He won’t survive. Not without someone to take care of him.’ She blows out a hopeless sigh.
The weight of what she’s telling me hits me hard—she’s been taking care of him, and he still did this to her. It’s fucking diabolical.
‘I’ll get him out of the country. Give him a job. But if he so much as puts a foot out of line, I’ll have no choice but to dispose of him, you know what I mean?’
She gulps, but before she can answer, Ciaran picks this precise moment to put his head around the door. ‘Everything okay?’ His eyes dart curiously between Aoife and me as he takes in the scene in front of him. If he’s surprised to see me drinking whiskey with a runaway bride, he keeps his mouth shut.
