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“Jillian has my mind in a twisted vise like I’ve never known,” I whisper, reaching out for help.
Hello. My name is Eoghan and I’m a Jillian-a-holic.
“Jillian.” Kieran plays with his wedding ring. “Irish?”
“Her last name is Diamond.”
Lachlan slaps his leg, laughing. “What do you call her in bed? Icey? Shiny?”
“Sparkles…”
Lachlan laughs harder, and I punch him.
“Ow.” He mockingly rubs his arm, the size of a small tree trunk.
“I think we’re long past hoping to marry Irish girls and keep the blood pure.” My words float in the air, but my brothers level murderous gazes at me. “You know what I mean.”
Shaking my head, I turn and stare out the window. I’m unraveling being here with Jillian in that city by herself.
“I need the jet to go back,” I say, still staring at the gray sky and hope the snowflakes hold off while I check in on my staff at the office for a few hours.
If my flight is delayed, I’ll fucking lose it.
“Christmas,” Kieran mutters. “Get your arse home by Christmas Eve. Darragh and Sophie are back in our lives. He’s got a son now with Ana. Isabella wants to pick up the Christmas traditions of Ma. Big tree in the grand living room, lights and ribbons everywhere, gifts, wee-ones running around. That’s how we grew up.”
Sounds half wonderful, half horrible because I’m pretty sure when I’m here next, I’ll be either Ebeneezer Scrooge or the Grinch if I’m forced to leave Jillian behind.
CHAPTER FIFTY
Eoghan
Monday night, with a gun to the pilot’s head, a move I will pay dearly for, I make him take off despite the falling snow.
I can’t take another moment not being near Jillian.
The Irish Mob pays him a fortune. He’ll get over it.
It’s a torturous five hours that I think I’ll either need to drink or jerk off to get through.
In the end, I pace and stare at my phone. I texted Jillian that I was on my way back. I told her to be at my villa tomorrow with the Borgia case evidence, i.e. witness information, she mentioned on Friday.
With no response, my skin is crawling. Accessing the cameras in her apartment both calms and enrages me. Calm because I see her sitting and watching television. She’s safe, but I’m furious because she obviously has the time to respond, and she’s not.
Meanwhile, she’s stalking Johnny to throat fuck her!
This has gotten out of hand. I have to settle this.
But how?
The weather is warm when we land. Growing up in New York and living in Cambridge while at Harvard, I’ve never lived outside of the Northeast. The idea of walking around without a heavy coat in November is growing on me.
I hate that I feel better here. I should hate this city. I should hate being blackmailed to do Vance’s bidding.
Taryn, a Las Vegas detective on the take for years from Darragh, picks me up and brings me back to the Charter Hotel. Taryn seems like a lonely and ordinary guy. I almost suggest we get drunk, but I need to go to Jillian’s. Bust into her apartment, hold her down, and fuck her.
She only slept with me on Friday because she wanted to drive Johnny insane, so he’d throat fuck her.
As if conjuring such a visceral image sends signals into the ether, she texts me.
