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“Do I have to spell it out for you?” Her tone became exasperated. She didn’t like dredging this up. There was a deep-rooted pain she was holding on to. One she didn’t want to confront. Too bad. “My father was the DA. Do you know what a scandal like that would have done to his career path? So, when he learned of me, he told the media they adopted me after seeing me in the hospital during one of Sarah’s fertility treatments. They’d told everyone they were struggling to conceive after my sister was born. Made a big heartbreak, boo-hoo about it, and the media lapped it up like the good little dogs they are.”
“Is that why you became a journalist?” Kiernan asked. “So you wouldn’t become a simpering fool like them?”
“No.” She sniffed haughtily, her little nose in the air in stiff indignation. “I wanted to be a fiction author, but my father wouldn’t hear of it. Journalism was the next best thing.”
“How did you become involved with your fiancé?”
“Ex-fiancé,” she growled before sighing. “Drew and his father came to mine. I was sixteen. Magnus wanted an alliance. He knew of my father’s political aspiration, and he wanted a seat at the table.”
“Why did your father offer up an arranged marriage?” I wondered. There were several ways to go about political alliances these days in the political world. Not just marriage. It wasn’t mutually beneficial in my opinion. What did Richard gain from selling his daughter? And why her and not her socialite sister?
Bailey shook her head. “It was Magnus’s idea,” she contradicted. “He wanted the political alliance, and marriage was the option he thought best. I wasn’t his first choice, but Sarah, my stepmother, refused. Plus, Sarah had lined up a match of her own for Dalia with the son of the current DA.”
“What did your father gain from an alliance with Magnus?”
“Power,” Bailey said simply. She made it seem as if it was the only obvious answer. “My father may be a senator, but Magnus had far greater reach and sway in DC, and with his current political track, he’s looking at campaigning for president during the next election.”
“President?”
Fuck. So that was why the old man had been campaigning so hard to clean up the city. Taking down the Seattle underground and the mafia families who ran it would place him so far ahead of his opponents they wouldn’t stand a chance.
14
Seamus was staring at me like I had lost my marbles.
My father’s bid for president shouldn’t have surprised them. He was an ambitious man.
“That’s pretty ambitious for a man with skeletons in his closet,” Seamus sneered.
“My father isn’t who you say he is,” I argued. “He may not be winning any father of the year awards, but he isn’t a bad man.”
Kiernan scoffed. “Your father makes mine look like a saint.”
“Fuck you,” I spat, pushing back against him with enough force that he stumbled back. Taking the moment of surprise, I lashed out at Kiernan with my fist aimed at his stupidly handsome face. I wasn’t going to let him talk about my father that way. He’d saved my life the day he found me. If it wasn’t for him, I would have died in that rat-infested hell hole. Or worse.
Seamus’s strong arms wrapped around my waist from behind, holding me tight to his chest. But I wasn’t going to let that stop me. I pummeled my fists against Kiernan’s chest. The man was unmoved by my violent outburst. Seamus grunted as one of my flailing limbs knocked him in the side of the head. “Let me go!” Tears streamed down my face as I scratched and clawed, kicked and screamed.
The dam had been broken. The fresh hell of the last twenty-four hours catching up to me faster than a tidal wave against a tugboat. At the moment, I didn’t care about the consequences or what it meant that I had struck the heirs to the Irish throne. I just wanted to go. Even if I had nowhere to go.
I dug my nails into Kiernan’s flesh, earning a threatening growl as he took both of my wrists in one of his large hands.
“Enough,” Kiernan roared. Ignoring his command, I kicked and screamed, twisting my body as far as I could out of Seamus’s hold. Another silent exchange between the twins I didn’t understand, and suddenly I was thrust into Kiernan’s arms. His large arms encircled my body, entrapping my arms, effectively keeping them still.
He took three steps toward the bed before pivoting and sitting down on the edge. Kiernan stretched me over his lap as I twisted my body against him, but it was no use. I didn’t have anywhere near the strength necessary to fight him off.
I wasn’t even sure if I wanted to.
My vagina sure didn’t want to.
“Get off me,” I howled, my feet scissoring and my hands slapping at his leg. A whistle pierced the air and then a burning sting. I stilled, the sudden flash of pain short-circuiting my brain. The eroticism of the spanking he’d given me before vanished. This wasn’t a kink punishment. It was a real one. “You can’t—”
Another line of fire lit up my backside. I squealed at the sudden impact, my feet desperate to find purchase on the soft carpet to make a no doubt vain attempt to push off his lap. All I’d successfully managed was to rub my aching pussy against his thigh, which, judging from their chuckles, they’d both noticed.
I dug my nails into the skin of his calf, a hiss whistling through my chapped lips when he delivered another stinging blow. Then another.
“This is enough, Bailey,” he punctuated each word with another sting of his belt. “You will cease this tantrum.” He wasn’t playing games. It stung like fucking hell, tears streaming down my cheeks like little rivers. Then suddenly, it was gone, leaving a fiery ache on my ass and a wetness between my thighs. I took a deep breath, my body shaking and trembling as his hand rubbed soothing circles on my buttocks. The motion was soothing, but the moment I felt his rock-hard erection on my belly, I panicked.
“You’re getting off on this,” I accused, rocking my body a bit in protest. It only caused him to harden more. “Is that what gets your engine revving? Beating women?”
