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Chapter Two
Sylan
Jesus fucking Christ, she is more beautiful in person than I imagined. I’ve stared at a picture of her long sable hair and almond-shaped eyes for so long her image chases me into my dreams and I fantasize over how sweet her voice must sound. I’ve never let myself close enough to find out.
Until tonight.
But none of that prepares me for having her within a few feet of me. How someone so precious came from a piece of shit like William Kane baffles me. I’m not a man that carries remorse or guilt around on my shoulders. Taking action is how I deal with issues. Some call it a flaw, but the only remorse I hold for the death of the judge is the pain the news must have caused this sweet creature standing in front of me.
Katriona glances around nervously as she’s guided through the doors of my office. Just because I’m the head of the underground mafia doesn’t mean I don’t conduct most of my business with a level of class most nine-to-fivers and one-percenters envy.
She takes slow steps, and Luka entertains her pace at her back as she takes in the stained glass dome and large floor to ceiling windows that offer a panoramic view of the Chicago skyline. Another hour and the sunrise will color the horizon, and I wonder if she’ll love the sight as much as I do.
I learned at the knee of my father what the eye sees goes a long way to persuade the heart and minds of others. I doubt he meant for me to apply that to my way of life, but it is what it is.
Organized crime isn’t synonymous with low-life thugs running around like some street gang. I run a professional business that requires a level of trust that goes both ways. I might be a killer in the eyes of society if my past was to ever come to light, but I’m also fair. I take care of my own and we never want for anything. It’s the way my father taught his boys and a life lesson I plan on passing down the line when I have a son of my own.
Katriona clasps her hands over her arms when Luka leaves her standing in the middle of my office. Her eyes dance over the black leather sofa and the large wall of books directly behind it. Luka falls back to stand at the door, watching as always.
I’m immediately pissed off no one has offered her a coat. Chicago in March can be brutal and she has no business walking around without protection.
I continue to watch from the darkened corner unmoving as she parts her lips and takes a deep breath. The slight movement pulls my gaze to her delicate mouth. Her face is sweet and matches her young age, but the sorrow in her eyes makes her appear broken beyond her years, and something inside me wants to fix the pieces to make her whole again.
“Um, hello? Whoever you are, please don’t hurt me.” She doesn’t see me yet as she speaks into the vastness of my office. Her voice matches her delicate features, and I have to strain to hear her at first. She glances over her shoulder and assesses my younger brother. He comes off brutish and towers over most like a fucking animal, but he won’t hurt her.
The mere thought has me clenching my fists. Hurt such a treasure? My gut twists in knots at the idea of someone touching her in malice. I’ll kill them before I allow such a sin to happen, and I’ll take the stain on my tarnished soul when I put a bullet in anyone who tries to lay a hand on her.
I pull my hands from my pockets as I step from the shadows, and she immediately pinpoints my location. The second she sees me her eyes lock on mine. Through the shock of feeling like I’ve been punched in the gut, I step close enough to touch but keep my hands at my sides. I’ve never been more mesmerized by such beauty in my entire life. Her eyes are such a light brown they appear otherworldly when the low light from my desk lamp catches on the gold flecks in her irises as she drinks in her surroundings.
I take in her slight frame and the barely-there tremble in her chin. She tries to hide it behind her pinned back shoulders and solid steel spine, but I see the fear. She shifts her weight from one foot to the other and that’s when I notice the black stilettoes I know have to be killing her petite feet.
Even in those things she barely comes to just beneath my chin. From what Luka texted when collecting her, she was on her way home. In those of all the fucking shoes she could be wearing and a yellow uniform that stands out like a neon sign. She might as well be flashing like one too. The thought of her alone with no one to protect her brings me back to the evening’s planned events.
She inhales under my sharp gaze and lowers hers to the floor, and that pisses me off. More so when I see the hint of tears at the corners of her eyes.
“Katriona, look at me,” I command gently, pressing a finger beneath her chin until I have her attention back on me. She lifts those thick lashes softly, and the power knocks me back once again when her intense gaze connects with mine. I nearly groan aloud because that one flick of her gaze has my cock swelling behind the zipper of my slacks.
“Do you always walk home alone at this hour? Where is your boyfriend? Husband, brother? Your father? Is there anyone to care for you?” I don’t let on I know the answer to my questions. In part, I like hearing her voice, but I also want to judge her reaction at the mention of her worthless dead father. Not because I want to be a dick, but I need to know where her loyalty lies in regards to the man. It’s the one answer I don’t have. I might know the hellish life she’s led up until this point. The complete sorrowful way she was abandoned not only by her father but by her mother after working herself to death trying to provide for her daughter. But what I don’t know is how she feels.
Her expression darkens. Defiance clamps Katriona’s mouth shut, and instead of continuing to rub her arms, she crosses them over her chest. The slight movement pushes her breasts up, and I’m gifted the sweet sight of creamy flesh peeking out from the front of her uniform. She notches her chin a fraction higher, and I admire her strength.
In a word, she’s stunning and has no place working at Sally’s even if I did arrange for that to happen. I look at the name spelled out over her right breast for feigned ignorance. “Does this Sally chick know she endangers you by letting you walk home in pitch black and in a uniform that might as well be an invitation for any man to take what he wants?” I am going to have a talk with my old friend about that.
A hell fury whips up behind Katriona’s thick lashes, and I’m momentarily drawn into the firestorm.
Her brows pinch together. “No one lets me do anything. Who the hell are you? Why am I here? Are you going to take what you want, as you say? I have news for you, mister. You can try.”
The fire in her words stirs one in me. And her questions might be nothing more than a whisper, but I’m not fooled by the low pitch. This little kitten is pissed. Her eyes never leave mine as she parts her lips, waiting for my next move.
I step in and I let her take me in for a few seconds before I close the distance between us. A hint of the jasmine and honey hits me as she flicks her hair behind her shoulder.
“You’re safe with me. But if you keep that up you might not be.” I let her interpret that as she may, shocked by the truth I hear in my own words. I can’t fight the need to know how soft she is. Before I change my mind I reach out and stroke a finger down her cheek and brush aside a few stubborn strands of her long, dark hair. Everything about her is soft like a rose petal and chilled beneath my light touch, I notice.
When I don’t offer a deeper answer, she continues, the savagery of her tone slowly bleeding away. “Yeah, not sure why I’m here, but I think you have the wrong girl. I’m just a nobody who serves coffee. I mean if you’re looking for a maid, I might be open for the position, but kidnapping isn’t the best tactic for an interview. Just saying. And you really shouldn’t drive around with a tarp in the back of your car. It gives off the wrong message. I mean, you don’t want people to know you’re going to off them beforehand. Right?”
I hold back a smile at her nervous chatter and wonder if she knows who she is or the amount of danger she’s in for simply sharing her father’s last name. Another reason why I have no feelings for the worthless man. He wasn’t even man enough to provide for such a delicate flower.
Fuck if I don’t want to bury the real reason why I had her taken off the streets, wrap her in my arms and kiss away the fear etched into the worried lines across her forehead.
