by Ember Dante
“I ne—”
“I’m not finished,” I growled. “You may not have explicitly said as much, but I know damn well that’s what you’re thinking. It. Won’t. Happen. Period.” I paused, letting that sink in. “I’m not Mason.”
“Why can’t you just be amenable and accept your proper place in this family?”
“My proper place? Did you seriously just say that to me? What, exactly, is my proper place? Can you tell me that?”
“I won’t be the only one to suffer if your mother and brothers learn the truth about the night of Mason’s accident.”
The echo of his words hung in the air, taunting me. Son of a bitch. I took several deep breaths, desperate to calm the sudden flood of rage consuming me. “I think it’s best if I hang up now. You won’t like anything else I have to say.”
“Think about what I said, Cillian.”
I disconnected without responding, my mind reeling with his willingness to blow up our family if I refused to do his bidding.
My fingers clutched the steering wheel as the rush of adrenaline slowly faded. With every breath, my thoughts cleared, and I knew what I had to do. Who I had to become.
And I hated myself for it.
Chapter Nine
Sometimes it’s a hard pill to swallow when realization hits.
That was what I thought in a sudden moment of clarity during my drive to Houston. Connor’s words played through my mind on an endless loop, his careless disregard for Mom and my brothers haunting me. I had struggled with how to win the war against him when it dawned on me that I had the answer all along—to beat him, I needed to become him.
Well, not exactly. But that’s when it hit me—I had more in common with him than I ever cared to admit. In my current situation, however, that could work to my advantage.
In my younger years, I always had a cavalier attitude toward women. I was a major player at one time. It was true. I could have fucked any chick I wanted, and more often than not, I did. No emotion, no remorse. They meant nothing to me. Ever.
I would need to approach the Caitlin situation the same way, but there was always the possibility that she would be collateral damage, and that bothered me. I didn’t want to hurt her in the power struggle against my father.
Unless...
What if she really wasn’t just a pawn? Despite her protests, what if she wanted the same thing as our fathers—for us to join our houses and continue the twisted legacy that Connor insisted upon? What then? Was she playing the game in her own way by trying to lull me into complacency so that one day I would possibly wake up stuck in a loveless marriage of convenience? That thought was as unsettling as the fact I shared traits with the man responsible for every dysfunctional moment of my life. Was I just paranoid? It wouldn’t surprise me. A lifetime of bullshit from Connor Walsh would do that to a person.
After three days in Houston, I was no closer to an answer, so I decided I would need to test Caitlin. I felt like an asshole, but fuck it. After everything I’d been through, I had as much right to be happy as anyone else. Call me selfish. I didn’t give a shit.
I called Caitlin on my way home, waiting until I was about thirty minutes away. She must have been waiting by the phone because I swore she answered before it even rang on my end.
“Hey,” she purred.
“Hey.”
“How was Houston?”
“Fine,” I sighed. “How are you? Miss me yet?”
“Of course I miss you. When will you be back?”
“Actually, I’m almost home now. I’m about an hour out.” I was amazed at how easily the lie rolled off my tongue, but I was curious about how she would react when I showed up at her place early. “I thought I might drop by if that’s okay with you.”
“That’s more than okay. I’d love to see you.”
“See you soon,” I murmured, infusing my voice with more emotion than I actually felt.
“I can’t wait.”
Caitlin’s father was similar to mine in regard to the importance of appearances and stature in the community. He couldn’t have his only daughter living in a sub-standard apartment, so he bought her a two-story penthouse at the Monarch building in the trendy Uptown area of Dallas. She claimed that he tried to buy her a more expensive home, but she declined, saying she didn’t need that much space, and I had often wondered why she felt the need to tell me that.
I arrived precisely thirty-two minutes after our call.
I sat in the car, trying to summon the guy I used to be. The one who could walk into Caitlin’s home, fuck her, and then leave. The one who could switch off all emotion and reduce her to nothing more than an object to be discarded when I was finished. A toy to replace on its shelf.
The guy I no longer wanted to be.
Taking a deep breath, I plucked two condoms from the box I just bought and dragged myself from the vehicle. My feet felt heavy, leaden, and I had to force my muscles to work. The temptation to turn around grew, and it took every ounce of self-control to move forward rather than back.
I reached her floor and rang the bell. Almost immediately, it swung open, revealing Caitlin in the hottest fucking lingerie I’d ever seen. I wasn’t sure what I had been expecting, but it sure as fuck wasn’t that.
Black gossamer fabric hung from spaghetti straps and floated over her, tied with a ribbon between her breasts and flowing open from there to expose her flat stomach and a minuscule scrap of material that, I assumed, was supposed to pass for panties. Black stilettos adorned her feet. Wearing those, she was almost my height.
Fuck me.
The corners of her mouth twitched as she took in my appraisal. “You’re early, baby.”
Her endearment grabbed my attention and raised the understanding that she was completely relaxed as she clutched the front of my shirt and drew me inside. The door closed with a soft ‘snick’ sealing my fate—for a while at least.
Smug satisfaction filled her eyes, the look of victory, one I’d probably worn myself several times in the past. It also confirmed that she was not innocent and was openly declaring her part in the game by greeting me that way.
It was the push I needed to get my head out of my ass.
I gripped her shoulders and pushed her backward, stopping when her back was against the nearest wall. One hand tangled in her hair, yanking her head backward while the other glided over the sheer material covering her to rest at her hip.
“This is just sex, Cait. We’re going to fuck. That’s it.” My fingers slipped beneath the delicate band of her panties and jerked, snapping it in two. “No love, no emotion. No cute names. Got it?”
“Whatever you say, Cillian,” she breathed.
Her use of my full name enraged me, setting off a riot of unhealthy emotions. I tightened my hold on her hair and pulled her farther back as I kicked her feet apart, her shoes scraping on the tile floor. I moved my other hand between her legs and roughly shoved two fingers inside her. Her pussy was already soaked, and I began to pump my fingers, fucking her hard and fast while I claimed her mouth. She folded one arm around my neck and the other around my waist, holding on as I ravaged her. I broke the kiss and drew my lips down her throat, over her collarbone, and lower, latching onto her nipple through the fabric covering her breast. My thumb settled on her clit, applying pressure while my fingers worked inside, pushing her toward her orgasm.
“I’m ... I’m ...” she gasped, her body shuddering.
“Let go, Cait,” I commanded, my voice gruff, strained with anger and lust.
She released a wail that filled the air around us and came, one final shudder running through her body before going limp in my arms.
Without giving her time to recover, I stood her upright and spun her to face the wall. She leaned heavily against it, gasping for air, her body trembling. I slipped on a condom and jerked her hips toward me, my fingers digging into her flesh, forcing her to widen her stance to remain standing.
“I hope you’re ready for this.”
“Wha—”
Whatever she intended to say was cut off with my thrust. I wasn’t gentle, fully seating myself with that one movement. She gasped—in pain or pleasure, I wasn’t sure—and her hands scrabbled against the wall, desperate for leverage. I began to move, using long, hard strokes, driving into her, releasing all of my anger—at my father, at hers, at the situation, and finally at her.
My hands skated up her body and ripped away the material covering her breasts, not caring that the flimsy garment probably cost a small fortune. I plucked at her nipples, stretching and pulling the hard peaks, increasing pressure with every thrust.
Caitlin began to babble, mumbling a string of unintelligible sounds, and dropped a hand to work her clit. Her body tensed, all of her muscles seizing, her pussy clenching around my dick. I tripped over the edge after her, my hands on her tits, holding her in place as I came. My hips began to slow, my movements jerky and uneven.
“Oh, my god...” she panted. “That was amazing.”
An unwelcome surge of guilt hit me as I pushed her against the wall with one hand while the other dropped to deal with the condom. I withdrew slowly and left her there as I retreated to the bathroom. She was still leaning against the wall, her face pressed against the plastered surface, when I returned. My frenzied rutting left her disheveled, a look I would usually find hot as hell, but at that moment it left me feeling off-kilter and uneasy.
“I’m gonna take off.”
Cait pushed herself upright and faced me, confusion and anger marring her delicate features. “Leave?”
I nodded. “Yes.”
“You can’t leave,” she argued, shaking her head.
“Uh, yeah, I can.”
She moved closer and dragged her hands down my chest to my waist, tugging idly at my shirt. “But I want you to stay.”
I grabbed her wrists and pushed her away. “Well, I’m sorry.”
“You’re supposed to keep me happy,” she pouted. “I’m not very happy right now.”
“I thought I made myself clear. We fucked, and now I’m going home. Alone.”
“You can’t treat me like this.”
“Like what?” I asked, stepping to the door and resting my hand on the knob.
“Like a whore.”
“Maybe you should complain to Daddy about that.”
She opened her mouth to speak, but I stepped through the door and slammed it behind me before she had the chance. A loud crash sounded in her foyer, what I assumed to be her throwing a temper tantrum. I briefly debated checking on her, then shrugged it off and walked away.
The drive home was uneventful, free of contact from Caitlin or my father, but I knew that wouldn’t last. I fully expected a follow-up call from Connor before the week was out.
The war had just begun.
Chapter Ten
The rest of the week passed in a blur, and without a word from Caitlin. I assumed she was pouting.
I was not as fortunate when it came to my father, which was why I was headed to my parents’ Highland Park home on a warm and sunny Sunday afternoon. It was unseasonably warm for February, and I would have rather been going anywhere and doing anything other than visiting my father.
Mom had gone to her Pilates class by the time I got there, which was just as well. She didn’t need to be around when Connor and I traded barbs over Caitlin. The less she knew about it, the better.
I let myself in and made my way to his study. He was kicked back, a cigar in hand and his feet propped on the desk. I rapped my knuckles twice on the door and walked in without waiting to be acknowledged.
“Cillian,” he rumbled, taking a deep drag on the cigar.
I nodded in greeting and took a seat opposite him.
“We have a problem.”
“No, you have a problem.”
He ignored my tone. “You cannot treat Caitlin that way. Dammit, I raised you better than that.”
Heat flooded my cheeks. “First off, you didn’t raise me. Mom did. Second, how did I treat Caitlin?”
“Like a common whore.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I thought that’s what you and George wanted when you both offered her up for a good fucking.” I paused, smiling. “Maybe you two should reconsider things.”
He pushed out of his chair and slammed both hands on his desk, cigar clutched between two fingers of his left hand. Ashes dropped onto the polished teak surface. “Goddammit, Ian. Why do you have to be so fucking difficult?”
I stood as well. “Why do you?”
“You act as though—”
“You’re dictating my life?” I threw my hands in the air. “I don’t want to be with Caitlin. And by the way, it was pretty fucking obvious that she’s in on this little plan of yours.”
“What is your problem? She’s a beautiful girl, and she’s smart. It’s the perfect match.”
“That’s the point,” I yelled. “I don’t want to be matched. I want to find my own girlfriends and live my own life, not the one you want me to live.”
“Calm down.”
“No, I will not calm down.” I released a heavy breath. “You know, for as long as I can remember, I’ve done everything you’ve asked of me. Dancing lessons? Done. Sports? Done. Debutante escort? Done. Fix Mason’s screw-ups? Done. Date your colleagues’ daughters? Done.”
“I never asked you to use Caitlin in such a vile manner.”
“She fucking loved it,” I scoffed. “And yes, you did. You weren’t happy with me just spending time with her. You wanted me to fuck her. I did, and it’s not my fault she overreacted when I left.” I paused. “Just so we’re clear, I told her up-front what it was—that it was just sex. Now you’re pissed because she went crying to George that I didn’t fucking propose or some other stupid shit.”
“That girl—”
“Is a spoiled fucking brat.”
“That’s enough,” Connor boomed, walking around his desk. “I need this, Ian. We need this.”
“I don’t know who we is, but I don’t need shit.”
“I’m not asking you to love her. I just need you to make her think you give a shit. Make her believe you care.”
“So, lie?” I shrugged. “Like the night of Mason’s wreck?”
“It’s not the same thing, son.”
“Uh, yes, it is. A lie is a lie.”
“She’s the best woman I’ve ever asked you to date.”
“So that makes it better? You’re still whoring us out. If she’s so great, why don’t you fuck her?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Why is this so important to you—other than George’s money?”
His brows knit. “What are you talking about?”
“Something’s not right.” I wagged a finger. “There’s more to this, something you’re not telling me. You’re trying to pay him back for something, aren’t you? George ... you owe him big time.” I stroked a hand across my chin. “What is it?”
“Just get it done, Ian.” He sighed. “I don’t give a shit if you feel it. Make her believe it.”
“And what are you gonna do when it goes to shit? When I break it off?”
His eyes blazed. “You can’t do that.”
“Oh, I can, and I will. This shit is temporary.”
I spun on my heel and stalked out of the house, determined to end this ridiculous farce sooner rather than later.
Chapter Eleven
What did I do after that? The same thing I usually did when it came to my father’s demands. I sucked it up. I took one for the team.
I did exactly what I didn’t want to do while biding my time.
It also worked out that several out-of-town assignments came in, so I had to travel quite a bit. Because of that, I could only see Caitlin about once a month, which was fine with me. The less I had to deal with her histrionics, the better.
When I was in town, I made a point to stay at least one night with her. We settled into a somewhat comfortable routine until Caitlin got a little too comfo
rtable in our ‘relationship’ and decided to push the limits. I expected it, but it still pissed me off. It was mid-June, and I had just returned from a week in San Antonio. It had been a complicated and frustrating shoot, so I wasn’t in the best mood. I drove straight to her place, and we were lying in bed after an evening of rather vigorous sex.
“Why don’t we ever go to your place?” she asked, curled beside me.
Fuck me.
“I don’t know. This just seems more convenient.”
My place was the top floor of a building near the Galleria, complete with a doorman and concierge. No one made it to my floor without my express permission, which meant they were either on my approved visitor list or the front desk called me upon their arrival. It provided a nice buffer from unexpected—and unwanted—visitors.
She lifted her head and propped her chin on my chest. “Well, if you gave me a key...”
Not a chance in hell.
“Cait,” I sighed, frustrated. “What do you want from me?”
She pushed onto her elbow and glared. “I’d like it if my boyfriend wanted me in his home.”
Anger pulsed through me. “Boyfriend? For fuck’s sake,” I muttered, sitting to swing my legs out of bed. “We’re fuck buddies—nothing more. Why can’t you just be happy with the way things are?”
“Ian...” She rose to her knees and moved behind me, folding her arms around my chest just beneath my shoulders. “Why won’t you let me in? I love you.”
Love—fucking bullshit.
I shrugged out of her grasp and grabbed my clothes from the floor. “I gotta go.”
“Why do you do that?”
“What?” I asked, pulling my shirt over my head.
“Deflect”—she flicked her hand toward me—“every time I say anything about love or our relationship.”
“I’ve been very clear from the beginning,” I paused, pulling up my pants. “This isn’t love, Caitlin. We aren’t in a real relationship. You know I’m only doing this to make my father happy.”
“That’s a fucking lie.”
