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Chapter Three
Finn
She wasn’t asfiery as I imagined.
Did that disappoint me?
Maybe.
Then I had to chide myself because, Jesus, the woman had just beencoercedout of her business. What did I expect? For her to be popping open a champagne bottle after I’d forced her to sign over her building to me?
Sure, she’d made a nice and tidy profit on her investment—I hadn’t screwed her that way. But this morning, she’d gone into work with a game plan in mind, and tonight? Well, tonight she was out of a job and knee deep in a deal with the devil.
Of course, she hadn’t actually agreed to my other terms, but when I guided her out of the tea room and toward my waiting car, she didn’t falter.
Didn’t utter a peep.
Just climbed into the vehicle, neatly tucked her knees together, and waited for me to get in beside her.
Like the well-oiled team my chauffeur and car were, they set off the minute I’d clicked my seatbelt.
The privacy screen was up, and I knew how soundproofed it was—not because of technology, but because Samuel knew not to listen to any of the murmurs he might hear back here.
And if he was ever to share the most innocent of those whispers he might have discerned? We both knew I’d slice off his fucking ear.
This was a hard world. One we’d both grown up in, so we knew how things rolled. Samuel had it pretty easy with me, and he wasn’t about to fuck up this job when he was so close to retirement. If he kept his mouth shut, did as I asked, ignored what he may or may not have heard, and drove me wherever the fuck I wanted to go, Sam knew I’d set him and his missus up somewhere nice in Florida. Near the beach, so the moaning old bastard’s knees didn’t give him too much trouble in his dotage.
See?
I wasn’t all bad.
Rapping my fingers against my knee, I studied her, and I made no bones about it.
Her face was tilted down, and it let me see the longest lashes I’d ever come across on a woman. Well, natural ones. Those fucking false ones that fell off on my sheets were just irritating. But as with everything, Aoife was all natural.
So pure.
So fucking perfect.
Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.
She was a benediction come to life.
I wasn’t as devout as Aidan Sr. would like me to be, but even I felt uncomfortable thinking such thoughts while sporting a hard-on that made me ache. That made my mental blasphemy even worse.
“Why did you let him touch you? Was it for money?”
I hadn’t meant to ask that question.
Really, I hadn’t.
It was the last thing I wanted to know, but like poison, it had spewed from my lips.
Who she’d fucked and who she hadn’t, was none of my goddamn affair.
This was a business deal. Nothing more, nothing less. She’d fuck me to make sure I kept quiet, and I fucked her so I could revel in the copious curves this woman had to offer.
Simple, no?
