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It hits me, and it’s soothing to not fight how I feel.
She is mine. And those are no longer empty, possessive words.
She’s coming back to Astoria with me one way or another. Because I know deep inside, she wants me as much as I want her. She can’t see the path her life needs to take to have it all.
But I do.
In the pantry’s steel refrigerator, I take out one can of club soda and one can of ginger ale.
I return with three cups, one filled with ice and motion for her to sit at the table closer to the back of the plane.
Smiling, she joins me. “Was this expensive?”
“Aye,” I answer, thickening my accent because I know she loves it.
“I don’t know how to thank you.” She accepts a cup from me.
“I do.”
She laughs. “I know how you want to be paid.”
Pouring ginger ale into a cup, I lean forward and say, “That benefits us both, sparkles.”
“My mom’s house has two guest bedrooms,” she says.
“Nice. But I’m not sleeping in one.” I pour club soda into the second cup, eyes on her.
Exhaling and blushing, she says, “Eoghan, my mother—”
“I just want to hold you at night.” I put down the soda can and stroke her cheek. “Comfort you. If my hard cock rubbing your arse turns you on and you want to ride my dick, I won’t deny you.”
“Why me?” She levels a stare at me. “I’m not mafia girlfriend material. I’m a prosecutor, for crying out loud.”
Given my brothers’ records with wives, the odds are in my favor that I can convince Jillian I’m the right man for her.
“I’m not looking for a girlfriend,” I say, sipping the club soda, dying to add some vodka to it, but out of respect for Jillian, I don’t.
Before I can clarify, she cuts me off.
“I misspoke,” she says, laughing. “You want to make me your whore.”
I slam my cup down. “I would kill anyone who calls my woman a whore. You…get a pass. But for five seconds. I don’t want a whore. And no woman who we take to wife is ever treated that way.”
“Wife? I’m confused. What are you saying?”
She’s stressed over her mother, so I change gears. “Nothing. Tell me about your ma. How is it you and Daniel share her?”
Her face curves into a brief smile, relieved to not have to address our dilemma.
“Daniel was from Mom’s first marriage.” She gives me a smile. “My dad was a lawyer. And well, she was his client.”
The Diamonds are no stranger to scandals. It’s in her blood, too. Falling for forbidden men.
“What did she need a lawyer for?”
“To get a divorce.”
I sit up, and all this time, I thought Daniel’s father was dead. We don’t do divorces in our family. Darragh is the exception, but he always did his own thing.
