Carson: A Dark Irish Mafia Romance (Dangerous Doms)

by Jane Henry

  She’s right, I have no idea what she’s talking about.

  She shakes her head again. “Doesn’t matter. We…” her voice trails off.

  I’m not letting her go. I’m not going to chalk this up to a one-night stand, then have to sit beside this woman in the dining room, walk beside her in the garden, live beside her in my home here by the cliffs, and pretend what we had last night wasn’t utter fucking perfection.

  I pull out my cell phone and hand it to her. “Put your number in there,” I tell her.

  This is not fucking over.

  She takes the phone and nods, punches her number in, and saves it.

  “Give me your phone.” I reach my hand out to her, and put my own number in but for safety’s sake, don’t put my own name in. I give her a smile while I type my name.

  Sir.

  She takes the phone back, looks at the screen, and smiles.

  “I’ll text you instructions throughout the day,” I tell her. “Understood?”

  “Aye,” she says. “Yes.”

  I have to go. We have to get out of here. Maeve waits for me and Breena, I have to check in with Keenan, and then… Christ, then I have a job to do.

  A bloody fucking job to do. I can’t let her see. I can’t let her know.

  “You’ll follow those instructions, Megan.”

  She smiles at me. “Yes, sir.”

  Chapter 6

  Megan

  It feels surreal, like I’m walking in some sort of dream. My body still feels the marks of his mouth, his hands, his cane. I can feel my thighs, my core, my arse… throbbing from what we did. Aching to do it again.

  I tell myself I hardy know him, that this isn’t the man I’ve grown up with. He was always taken, dedicated to Eve and his little girl. I never allowed myself to think of him as anything more than a friend.,m

  But now… God, now…

  I watch him go to Breena and take her hand, and my chest warms at the sight. He’s a good dad to her, and I love that. I love that so much it makes my heart throb.

  I consider leaving before him, or after him, or something. The men of the Clan are all over the place. Not just my cousins but the others as well. The guards, the women, they’re everywhere. Hell, I usually have a guard on me myself, but I swore them off last night because I was with my cousins and Carson.

  Carson.

  I’ve never seen this side of him before, and I can hardly get him out of my mind. I joked with him he was like Superman, Clark Kent hidden among us. Until now, he was someone I admired from afar. It isn’t easy to do the job he does and raise a child on his own.

  We all grieved for him when Eve was killed. She was sweet and kind. She was shy and reserved, rarely came to the McCarthy home. We hardly saw her. But I see her still now, in her daughter’s wide eyes and gentle disposition.

  How could a man like him be at all interested in a woman like me? Eve was everything I’m not. Tall, thin, and willowy, with short black hair in a pixie cut and pale blue eyes. She was back in her skinny jeans a week after giving birth. I’m still wearing stretchy trousers, and I’ve never had a child.

  Eve was studious and diligent. She worked in education as a preschool teacher before she decided to become a nurse. Always the caretaker. How she ended up with a man from the Clan is a mystery to me. I knew she hailed from Stone City, among Ireland’s poorest.

  Eve was quiet and reserved, shy and a bit awkward.

  I sigh.

  I’m… nothing like that.

  I live for experiences and opportunities. Parties and travel, twinkling lights and bone-stirring music, the rich taste of buttery scones and hot, cream-laced tea. I love these things.

  Eve was an introverted vegan.

  Whereas Eve was quiet and cautious, I’m loud and impulsive. Eve was a loner, who kept to herself. I have a large circle of friends and live to be around others. And we looked absolutely nothing alike.

  What does he see in me?

  How could he be attracted to a girl like me?

  I go back to the room quickly to gather my things. I have to get home. My bag’s in the corner of the room, a large, roomy one that flops onto the floor next to a bookshelf. I bend to get it, and something catches my eye.

  All of the books on the bookshelf are faced the right way, dusted and arranged just so. The bottom of the shelf is raised from the floor on little wooden knobs, and just below the base of the shelf is the edge of a book cover.

  He must’ve missed this. The rest of his place is so tidy, he wouldn’t have left a book on the floor. I slide a finger beneath the bottom shelf and push the book out. I glance quickly at the book, then the door. His voice is still in the kitchen.

  This is not a book. It’s a diary. A diary someone’s hidden.

  I remove it and glance quickly through the pages.

  Eve’s handwriting. We studied together. Though there’s no signature, I recognize her trademark slants and swirls.

  “Megan?”

  My head snaps up, and guilt suffuses me. Will he think I’m snooping?

  His voice grows louder as he comes closer. In a panic, I shove the book into my bag.

  “Just a minute!” I shout. “Dropped an earring.”

  He steps into the room just as I straighten.

  “Did you find it?” he asks.

  “Aye,” I say. “Breena ready to go?”

  “Needs a few minutes.”

  His phone rings. “Keenan,” he mutters.

  “Let me go ahead.”

  I leave before he responds, telling myself it’s best if we go at separate times. I’m not running. I’m saving both of us from an embarrassing and possibly complicated situation.

  God, I’m a mess.

  I go ahead of him back to the mansion and get an idea before I get there. I send Aileen a quick text.

  Girl. Help!!

  Her response comes a minute later. What is it??? You ok?

  I need to get inside. I had a one-night stand, yes I will fill you in later, not now. I’m still in the manky clothes from the night before, need to get in and up to my room without any of the men seeing.

  There’s a pause. I see the little dots on the screen indicating she’s typing, but then it stops a few times. I’m hiding under the shaded trellis in the garden like a teenager.

  I sigh. Aileen wouldn’t abandon me, would she?

  My phone buzzes, and I look for the text from Aileen, but it isn’t what I expected at all.

  Sir.

  I smile to myself. I cannot believe he had the bollox to put his name in my phone like that.

  I’ve only sipped from the cup he has to offer. What more is there? I want to drown in it.

  Sir: Are you being a good girl?

  A rush of heat flares through me. I can hear the tone in his text, the deep timbre of his voice, controlled and hard with barely tempered dominance. I felt his cane. My body trembles with the memory of the way he mastered me last night. My hand shakes when I text back. I bite my lip.

  No, sir.

  I smile at the thought of my text showing up on his screen. I put my name in as Good Girl.

  I hold my breath waiting for his response, and when my phone buzzes again, I’m almost disappointed it’s a text from Aileen.

  Aileen: Come in through the garden entrance. Sorry, Cormac was talking to me, but he’s taken the kids to breakfast now. We’re good. I’ll get you up to your room and make sure no one sees you.

  I have to make my move now, even though I’m waiting on Carson’s response. I shove my phone in my bag, kicking myself for not thinking of grabbing a change of clothes. But who knew? How was I supposed to know a night like that would change… well, damn near everything?

  But I don’t cower and hide. I own who I am and what I do, and I’m not going to stop being who I am now.

  Still, I’d rather not do the walk of shame in front of those overbearing cousins of mine. So I look to the right, then left, and scurry like a little church mouse and nearly run to the side
entrance of the house.

  I get about two paces when I hear, “Ah, now cousin, looks like you had quite a night, then?”

  I groan, stopping just before I barely even started. I turn around and face Nolan, who’s leaning up against a tree behind the garden, a smoke in his hand.

  “Aren’t you supposed to be on a honeymoon or something?” I mutter.

  He grins. “Aye. We leave tonight, though. Spent the night at home, got the kids situated, and we fly out this evening.”

  “Well, then,” I say, turning away from him. “Maybe you ought to go… pack some snacks or something.”

  I could head to the greenhouse, but now that he’s seen me, what’s the bloody point? I sigh and walk to the garden.

  “Snacks are free in flight.”

  “Then go pack a snorkel.”

  He chuckles. “Seems like you’d be happy I jumped off the bloody cliff, long as I don’t give you crap for coming home in the clothes you wore to the wedding.”

  I cringe.

  “Shut it, Nolan. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.”

  “Who was it, lass?” he asks. I hear him puff on his smoke. “One of the guards?” His voice hardens. “I’ll break his bloody neck.”

  I turn to face him, still only a few paces toward my destination. “You will do no such thing, Nolan McCarthy,” I say, wagging a finger in his direction. “I’m a full-grown woman, and how I spend my evenings has nothing at all to do with you.”

  He narrows his eyes on me. “Not true, Megan,” he says, his voice hardening. “And you know it.”

  “Do I?” I ask him. My phone is buzzing like a defective vibrator in my pocket, and I cringe to think what’s happening. Aileen, wondering if I got abducted by aliens on the way inside. Carson… scolding me for being naughty.

  I shiver.

  “Be that as it may, I had a lovely evening, thankyouverymuch, and now I’m off to get dressed and get some breakfast.”

  But he follows me.

  “Nolan, your wife is calling,” I say over my shoulder as he peppers me with questions.

  “A bloke at the Club? One of the single lads that came? Christ, Megan, tell me it wasn’t one of our own, now.”

  “Lalalalalala,” I singsong, shoving my fingers in my ears as I walk toward the house. “I can’t heearrr youuuuu.”

  “Feckin’ twelve-year-old in the body of a woman,” he mutters. I ignore him, but his guesses are way too bloody close for comfort.

  “Go away,” I tell him. “Or I’ll—I’ll call Keenan on you.”

  He snorts. “And tell him what? I’m watching out for you?”

  I spin around and point my finger at him. “This is not watching out for me. It’s smothering me. We used to be on the same team, you know. Don’t you remember?”

  We’d sneak out in the middle of the night and drink on the rooftop, both standing guard so the other wasn’t caught. I bailed him out so many times, saving him from his older brothers’ wrath, and he bailed me out, making sure Aunt Maeve and Uncle Seamus never knew about the boyfriends I had or the parties I went to.

  “Oh, I remember,” he says, “but Megan, we were kids then.” His voice hardens. “And we aren’t now.”

  And that’s it. I’m done. I’m done trying to meet everyone’s expectations of me under the guise of being “protected.” I’ve had it. I love my life and I live it to the fullest, but it’s damn hard under this roof. It’s time I do something for me.

  “Fuck off, Nolan,” I say. I ignore the hurt in his eyes, turn my back to him, and pretend I didn’t just curse out one of my very best friends. Before he can say another word, I run toward the back entrance.

  He doesn’t follow.

  Aileen waits at the door for me, concern written in her brow. “Bloody hell, woman, what took you so long to get here from the garden?”

  I briefly tell her with a sigh. She ushers me into the house, oblivious to the painful twinge in my chest at what just happened. Shaking her head, she takes my hand and leads me through the kitchen. The staff doesn’t look our way, used to turning a blind eye to what members of the Clan do.

  “Coast is clear all the way to the east wing,” she says. “Go. But woman, you’d better be prepared to fill me in later.”

  “Aye,” I tell her. “Thank you.”

  I make it to my room, my trip uneventful, thanks to Aileen’s scouting. But my heart is in the garden.

  I spent the night with one of Nolan’s best friends. I hate that I have to hide it. What does this even mean?

  I make it to my room, essentially a flat within the McCarthy mansion. As soon as I shut and lock the door, I exhale and lean my head against the door. My phone buzzes again. I swallow, draw in breath, and take it out of my pocket.

  Sir: Where are you?

  Where is he? He’s likely in this house, this very minute, and he’s thinking of me.

  I’d almost managed to convince myself I was only a distraction to him. There’s no possible way he could really be interested in me… is there?

  In my room.

  Sir: Good girl. And your plans?

  I’m going to take a shower, get changed, then get some breakfast downstairs.

  Sir: How long does it take you to get ready?

  I frown, wondering where he’s going with this.

  Twenty minutes?

  There’s a pause.

  Sir: That’s the quickest girl prep time I’ve ever heard of in my life.

  I smile to myself. My hair’s so thick and wavy, I only wash it a couple times a week. Today is not hair washing day. I wear a lot of dresses because they’re simple, one little piece to just slide on. I wear flats or sandals, and my makeup prep is minimal. Swipe of mascara, swipe of lip gloss.

  I like to do things quickly. Lets me do… more.

  Sir: I noticed.

  I flush. I had no idea he had such a dirty mind.

  I fucking love it.

  You’re so dirty.

  Sir: You have no idea, love.

  My heart dances like butterfly wings at this. I honestly can’t even remember the last time a man flirted with me.

  Love.

  It’s a common term in these parts. Carson’s mum was an English woman who called everyone love.

  It doesn’t mean anything, I tell myself. He probably says that to everyone.

  But I can hear him, his sexy, deep voice calling me love.

  It’s just a throwaway term, though. I can’t let myself get too caught up in this. I can’t.

  The phone buzzes again and I see another text from him.

  See you at breakfast. Twenty-five minutes. I want you in a dress, no knickers.

  I shiver and grin. I wonder how he’ll handle this with the Clan all around us like doting hens. He has no idea how they are with me.

  Yes, sir.

  Fifteen minutes later, I’m standing in front of the large, oval-shaped full-length mirror that stands on a pedestal in my bedroom. My room’s luxurious and girly, decorated in frilly whites and lace, this mirror no exception. It’s framed with an intricately carved, gilded edge. I stare at myself and let the towel fall to the floor.

  I’ve got an hourglass figure, this much I know from the little “how to dress your body type” test I did online with Aileen and Caitlin a few months ago. Full breasts, a defined waist that tapers out to wide hips. A curvy belly and curvy arse, all dimpled and creamy.

  My fair skin looks different today, though, and it’s all his fault. I smile, looking at the pink circles on my neck, between my breasts, the faint trail marks of his cane. He didn’t bruise me, but my arse is still pink. I run my hand along my naked skin, and I’m still sore from where he spanked me. I twist my body around, marveling at the marks he left. I’m not sure why I feel empowered by them, but I somehow do.

  I was dominated by Carson Flynn. He left me feeling… different. Not shy, nor reserved, or anything like that, but... well, maybe it’s how I think about him that’s different? In my mind, he’s larger than life now. In control. An
d so damn sexy, my mouth feels dry at the mere memory.

  I glance at the time and realize I’ve got two minutes to get downstairs in the timeframe he gave me. I’m usually faster than this, but I got distracted.

  I throw on a dress, then realize there are marks on my neck. I crane to look into the mirror. Thankfully, they’re faded with the heat of the shower. I put some foundation on them and pull a higher-neck dress on, swipe some makeup on, and twist my hair into a messy bun at the top of my head. I’m aware of the fact that there’s no way I can get downstairs in time, even if I could teleport. My heart slams in my chest, my palms all sweaty, but it’s an odd, almost exciting sort of fear. And hell, I haven’t had anything like this to get my blood pumping in… damn near ever.

  I’ve been with men I liked before, of course, and I’ve had plenty of intimate, fun times with them. But this… this holds the promise of something altogether different.

  I slam the door behind me, turn to run downstairs, and smash head on into Caitlin.

  “Ooh!” she says as I accidentally slam into her. A pile of papers she held in her hands flutter to the ground, and her pretty eyes go wide.

  “Megan! Are you okay?”

  Leave it to Caitlin for looking out for me when I’m the one that smashed into her.

  I fall to my knees beside her as we both gather up the papers she dropped.

  “Aye,” I tell her. “So sorry. I said I’d—I was supposed to be downstairs already, and I let myself get distracted. Lost track of time is all.”

  “Ah,” she says. She gathers up the papers and I hand her what I’ve picked up, too. “Someone waiting for you, then?”

  I open my mouth, then close it. I can’t meet her eyes.

  There’s a simple purity about Caitlin that makes anyone who meets her want to be a better person. Raised by the late lighthouse keeper, she was kept apart from the world until Keenan took her as his own. She’s unencumbered with worldly expectations, and she keeps her own counsel. Having grown up in near solitude, she can be a little odd and quirky at times, but she doesn’t know the meaning of the word pretense.

  When I don’t answer, her brow furrows, and she pauses in straightening the papers. “You okay, Megan? It’s unlike you to be so serious. Did something happen?”