Safer? A sharp, bitter laugh escapes. There’s no place safe. Not in Crescent Bay, not in Boston; not from Cyan.
“Ethan, it’s unnecessary... I’ll order a ride.”
“Please, Aria, Cathy is a good friend of mine. If you leave, and something happens... how do you think she’d feel?” Guilt sinks its claws into me. Damn him. I hesitate to turn back to look at him. “Come on. I won’t bring his name up again tonight. Let me take you home.” His eyes plead with me.
“Alright.” The drive is silent; neither of us speaks until Ethan pulls up to Cathy’s house.
He shifts in his seat. “I’m sorry for not telling you everything about my job,” I nod. I just want this night to be over. Another lying schmuck,my taste in men should be studied.“I really like you, Aria. Despite how the night ended, I had a great time with you. I’d love to see you again. I can come to Crescent Bay.” I open my mouth to shut it down, with a hell no. “Don’t answer now. Just think about it.”
I fiddle with the strap of my handbag. “Sure,” I snap, I’m choosing avoidance, in a rush I open the door, jumping out of the car. Ethan follows me, walking me to my front door. My keys is in the lock as I open the door and turn to say goodbye before going in. Ethan surprises me with a quick kiss on my lips.
“See you soon?” Ethan turns and leaves as I step inside and lock the door. I have no intention of seeing Ethan again.
The house is silent. Cathy’s working the graveyard night shift. I wish I could call Tasha, but she doesn’t know about Cyan. No one does. My life is feeling like a bad soap opera. Maybe I should get a theme song for all this drama. I kick off my heels, and pulling the pins from my hair, let my hair out of the updo, shaking my curls free. I strip off my dress as I head to my room, flipping the light switch my body comes to a hard stop. Sitting in the side chair next to my bed is Cyan MacBrady.
Ten
“I want her heart beating beneath me, knowing it would never dare to run again.”– Cyan MacBrady.
“Hello, Aria.”
My Dove stumbles back, a startle scream ripping from her throat before she slaps a hand over her mouth. It was worth having Salvo drive like hell to beat her and that detective to her aunt’s house. Ireland kept me longer than expected, and she seems to have misunderstood what my absence meant. I lean back in the chair, taking my time as I drink her in. The lacy pink set looked wondrous on her...fucking perfect.
Her hair is a wild halo of curls spilling down her golden shoulders, just the way I like it. I watch the exact moment her mind kicks into overdrive, her shoulders squaring, hand moving from her lips as her chin lifts.
My cock thickens. Not just at the sight of her bare skin, but at the way she trembles yet refuses to hide from me. She hasn’t even attempted to cover herself. Mercy me, my mouth waters for this woman.
“Get out,” she demands. I rise, moving toward her in slow, deliberate steps. The closer I get, her resolve flutters, she steps back, like prey remembering the danger.
“Don’t even think about running, Love. I’d relish the thrill of the chase, but let’s be real, lass; you won’t make it far.” She pushes a lock of her hair from her face and locks it behind an ear, and I can’t help but focus on all that is Aria Boschett. My gaze runs from the tip of her nose, to her luscious full lips then lower, admiring the round mounds, drifting down her body, drinking in the delicate curve of her hips, down her legs, to the soles of her bare feet, and then back up to meet those doe-brown eyes. As I stop, right in front of her; I can hear her short, desperate breaths as her breasts rise and fall. “I love your obsession with these matching sets.” She stiffens. “It’s a cute habit. I’ve noticed that in these last few months, you’ve never worn a pair that doesn’t match.” Her understanding of my words doesn’t disappoint.
Her lips part as horror flares in those doe-brown eyes. “You’ve been watching me.”
I grin. “I’m very territorial; my being away on business, love… doesn’t mean I’ll fail in looking after my property.” She flinches, and I swear I can hear the gears in her head grinding as Aria’s hand clenches into a fist at her side, the other gripping the doorknob, her fear battling against her pride.
She swallows hard. “Cyan… I can’t… I won’t be something you own. I’m not a trophy.” The woman has more balls than many men who wouldn’t dare speak to me this way.
I arch a brow. “We made a deal, Aria. The moment you stepped into my world, you became mine to keep. I don’t share my possessions.”
Her lips part, but she snaps her mouth shut, though I don’t miss the rage sparking in her eyes. She inhales, schooling her features into something unreadable, and squares her shoulders. “Let’s talk business then.” She tips her head, scowling.
I chuckle, surprised by the sudden shift. “Business?”
“You think I belong to you. I have a counteroffer… I want my freedom and in exchange, I’ll work for you.” My amusement grows as she continues. “I’m a damn excellent accountant. I’ll offer you my services for two years. You’ll get the best financial strategist you’ve ever had. Then you let me go.” I don’t answer. Reaching out, I take her hand, turn back to the room, and start walking toward the bed.
I feel her trying to pull her hand free. I turn back to her and close the distance again. She’s brave—I’ll give her that. But when her back hits the door, she flinches. One more step and my suit jacket would brush the lace of her bra. I wonder if she realizes her nipples have tightened into stiff peaks. I brush my fingers along the delicate line of her jaw before wrapping my hand around her neck; her pulse flutters wildly beneath my thumb as I lean in, my lips so close that I’m sure that my breath is skimming her ear. “I’m not interested in you for business; it’s more for pleasure.”
She makes a strangled sound. “I...I... What?”
“Come now, Dove. Don’t pretend you didn’t know. A man like me doesn’t send gifts to a woman he only wants a favor from.” Her breath shudders. “But that’s not why I’m here tonight. Tonight is about making sure you understand the weight of your choices. Actions have consequences, Aria. And your actions tonight? They require correction.” I pull back from her ear, studying her face.
She swallows hard. But instead of breaking, she tilts her chin up, her eyes blazing with defiance. “Mr. MacBrady,” she says icily, “I’ll repeat myself in case you didn’t hear me the first time. I, Aria Boschett, am not something you can own, and whatever fantasy you’ve built in that twisted mind of yours? Kill it.”
I let out a low laugh, my thumb brushing over her pulse. “You’ve got moxie.” My phone vibrates in my pocket—a sharp reminder that business waits for no one. “A shame,” I murmur, “I was just starting to enjoy this.” I press a slow kiss to her temple, savoring the way she shivers, and the tiny hitch in her breath. It’s a small reaction, but it’s enough, more than enough. She pushes weakly against my chest. I pull back and study her face. There is a sliver ofdesireburied under her fear and fury. “Good, at least I’m not the only one feeling the pull.”
Her lips part, and for the briefest moment, I think she might admit it. But then comes the sting of her palm as cracks across my face. Her pupils are blown wide, her breath ragged as she swings again. I catch her wrist mid-air. “I see,” I say softly. “Seems you didn’t quite grasp what I meant when I said I owed you. That’s on me for not spelling it out. But tonight, we’ll fix that.” I turn, guiding her by the wrist toward the bed. She digs her heels in, fighting me the entire way.
“No.” Her voice is shrill. She’s staring at the mattress as if it’s a crime scene. Her face drains of color, and the truth clicks into place. The memory hits me hard. The wet grunts of a man now long dead, my mother’s broken sobs;I slam the door on it before it drags me under.
