Keep Me (Beggar's Choice #3)

by Lily Morton

  Keep Me

  A Beggar’s Choice Novel

  Lily Morton

  Books by Lily Morton

  Beggar’s Choice Series

  Promise Me

  Trust Me

  Keep Me

  Text Copyright© Lily Morton 2016

  Cover Image: ladyphoto at Shutterstock

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously.

  References to real people, events, organisations, establishments or locations are intended to provide a sense of authenticity and are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locations, organisations, or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. Please purchase only authorized editions

  The author acknowledges the copyrighted or trademarked status and trademark owners of the following products mentioned in this work of fiction: iPod, Vans, Converse, Aston Martin, Kindle, Ralph Lauren, Harvey Nichols, People Magazine, Victoria’s Secrets, La Perla, Oscar de la Renta, The Orient Express, Facebook, Gucci, Ray Bans, Buddha Bar Hotel, Agent Provocateur, Christian Louboutin, Donna Karan, Louis Vuitton, Gant, MTV, St Barts Hospital, Stella McCartney, iPad Pro, MacBook Air, Lacoste, Dune perfume, Royal Free Hospital Hampstead, Porsche, Ducati, Aldi, Candy Crush, Amazon Prime, Netflix, Tom Ford, Rolling Stone Magazine, Great Ormond Street Hospital for Children, South Bank University, Henley, You Tube, Calvin Klein, e Bay

  Lyrics used – Madonna’s ‘Justify My Love’ written by Lenny Kravitz, Ingrid Chavez and Madonna and produced by Lenny Kravitz and André Betts. All songs, song titles and lyrics mentioned in the novel are the property of the respective songwriters and copyright holders.

  For my husband - the best friend that I’ve ever had (and the most sarcastic)

  I love you

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Epilogue

  Glossary of Irish Endearments

  Thank You

  Contact Me

  Part One

  Before

  There now steady love, so few come and don’t go

  Will you, won’t you be the one I’ll always know?

  When I’m losing my control, the city spins around

  You’re the only one who knows, you slow it down

  It’s always have and never hold

  You’ve begun to feel like home

  What’s mine is yours to leave or take

  What’s mine is yours to make your own

  The Fray “Look After You”

  Chapter One

  2 years ago

  London 8.00 am

  Bram

  The shrill sound of a phone coming from somewhere near my ear jolts me from a deep sleep. Raising my head with a groan and wiping a string of drool from my cheek I gingerly open my eyes. Immediately I close them due to the intense pain in my temples and moan pitifully. I try to settle back into my comfortable although slightly sweaty pillow, which I now recognise to be the curve of some bird’s arse, but the ringing carries on remorselessly, so cursing I roll up to a seated position and swipe my phone from under a pile of clothing and inside my shoe.

  The woman next to me moves slightly and I cast her a cursory glance as I swipe the screen. I think it might be the blonde from last night who might be called Mina, but I can’t be sure as her head is buried under a pillow and I’m hampered by the fact that I can’t remember jack shit about anything after 10 pm.

  A shrill voice with a very strong Irish accent recalls me. “Bram, love is that you?”

  “Ma, of course it’s me. You rang me on my phone.”

  “Oh silly me. It’s this bloody phone that you bought me. There’s more controls on it than a space ship. We were looking at it in the pub the other night and Mr Rafferty said that he could get me a simpler one on eBay.”

  I take a deep breath and scratch my beard meditatively. “Ma, is there a reason you’re ringing me because it’s nearly dawn and I want to go back to sleep?”

  “Dawn! Mary Mother of God son, it’s the middle of the morning. Are you still in bed? You know you really should try going to bed at a normal time. Mr Rafferty was telling me that his son who works on the oil rigs God bless him…”

  “Ma!”

  “Sorry son. Now let me think. Why did I ring you?”

  “Ma, please.” I can hear the plaintive note in my voice and my stomach is churning.

  “Oh, I know. It’s about Alys O’Neill, you know Mary’s lass. Mary my bridesmaid.” I mutter something incomprehensible but she just keeps going. All she really needs is for me to be breathing as a sign of life for her to carry on talking. “Well Bram she’s such a sweet little girl and so shy, and she’s had such a terrible time what with the family problems.”

  “Ma, that sounds really sad but why are you ringing me up to tell me? I don’t know her.”

  “Well no love, but I thought that you should be prepared for when she knocks on your door.”

  “What!”

  “There’s no need to shout Bram. This is a very clear line.”

  “Ma. Why would she be coming to my flat?”

  “Well she’s going to stay with you for a while.”

  “What? How long?”

  “Three years.”

  “What the fuck?”

  “Language son. There’s no need for that. Father Reilly says that bad language is the curse of the simple minded.”

  I can actually feel steam coming out of my ears. “Ma, you’d better get back on track this instant. What are you talking about? Why would this girl be coming to stay with me for three fucking years?”

  “Well to do her nursing degree of course. She’s ever so clever and she’s got a place at the South Bank University. She was on about where she should live and I said ‘oh don’t bother about that love, my lad will let you stay with him’.”

  “Why?” I can hear how high my voice has gone and the woman in my bed gets up and flounces naked into the bathroom. I mentally give myself a fist bump because it is the blonde. Yeah don’t label me a slut. I’m very discerning. “Why the fuck would I want a complete stranger staying in my house for three fucking years?”

  “Bram where is your charity my lad? Where would you have been if Auntie Mary and Uncle Declan hadn’t taken you in? You’d probably be a complete delinquent, collecting your benefits and being dragged onto Jeremy Kyle for a paternity test.”

  “I know they were good to me but I wasn’t that bad and anyway I was bloody family.”

  “We’re all family in this world as Father Reilly says.”

  “Ma, has Father Reilly put this idea in your head by any chance?” I’m interrupted by the bell going at my door. “Who the fucking hell is that at this time?” I start and then a hideous thought occurs to me. “Ma, when’s this girl supposed to get here?”

  “Well that’s why I’m ringing, she’ll probably be with you this morning.”

  “Jesus Christ Ma that’s probably her now at the door. Could you not have given me some noti
ce?”

  “Well I am a bit sorry about that son. I was going to ring you last Monday but Patricia came round and we ended up going to the bingo, Tuesday we were …”

  “Ma, please stop talking and let me think. I’m not fucking ready for some slip of a girl to stay here. Tis not suitable.”

  “Bram O’Connell what sort of Sodom and Gomorrah are you living in?”

  I look around the room at the clothes thrown everywhere, the bottle of vodka and glasses and dirty ashtrays littering the table, empty condom wrappers strewn everywhere, a cock ring lying in brightly coloured isolation on the rug and the pink bra hanging from the light fitting. “Oh Ma nothing like that. Listen I’ll go and let her in and then I’ll have a word with Mabe and see if she knows anyone that needs a flatmate.”

  “You’ll do no such thing. That I should live to see the day when a child of mine would put the O’Connell name for welcoming and charity to shame. You have to have her because I promised. Now I need you to swear on Saint Agnes that you’ll take care of the girl. You’ll not sleep with her and break her heart.”

  “For God’s sake she’s barely a child and shy from the sounds of it. She’s definitely not my type.” The bell rings again. “Listen I’ve got to go and let her in. We’ll talk later.” The latter is definitely a threat and she huffs before I hang up and jump out of the bed. There’s a squelch and then I feel stickiness hit my foot. Looking down I grimace as I see the remains of one of the condoms sticking to my foot with its contents liberally deposited over my instep.

  “For fuck’s sake,” I mutter as I hop around looking for my jeans while wiping semen off my foot with my t-shirt. There’s another knock on the door and giving up on my jeans I pull on some boxer briefs and scoot down the oak staircase and breeze towards the big entrance door. The bell goes again. “Alright alright, hold your horses,” I call out opening the door. “I’m here …” I stutter to an obvious silence.

  I was anticipating some shy girl with glasses and a stoop, maybe carrying a battered old suitcase. Instead, the most beautiful woman that I’ve ever seen is leaning against my door jamb. Tall and slender, she has long hair with every shade of blonde represented in it and as my eyes lower I see that she has the most perfect pair of tits that I have ever seen and immediately my mouth waters. We stare at each other for what seems like hours and I notice that her eyes are roving over me just as mine are doing to her but then she stirs.

  “Would you be Bram O’Connell?” she asks in a very husky Irish lilt that should bring back immediate thoughts of home, but instead just brings back memories of ringing sex lines when I was a randy teenager. However, there’s something slightly discordant about her voice, a slight flatness which I can detect probably due to my musician’s ear.

  “I am. You’re not Alys are you?” Please don’t be Alys I mentally pray because I just swore on Saint Agnes not to touch you for the next three fucking years. I don’t think my prayers will be answered because to be honest I don’t think God is really going to be hanging around a penthouse flat in the docklands. He’s surely got better things to do. This is confirmed when she smiles, showing white teeth with a slight charming overbite. She hasn’t taken her eyes off me and there’s something almost alluring about how she focuses on my face rather than my body which is currently all on display.

  “Yes I am. Oh I’m so glad that your mum rang you. Listen I only called in to let you off the hook. I know your mum will likely have steam-rolled you into letting me stay and there’s no need. I put a call in to the university’s housing office and there’s a room in a hall of residence that’s mine if I want it. So thank you anyway.”

  She puts out her hand and like a completely sad twat I take it and shake solemnly like we’re at an interview. Smiling again she turns and heads back to the lift pulling her suitcase after her and displaying the most perfect peach of an arse that I’ve ever seen in dark skinny jeans. “Nice to meet you,” she calls back pressing the button for the lift.

  “You too.” I go to close the door, relieved that the problem has been solved. I can now go straight back upstairs and climb back onto blondie and relieve some of this sudden hard package that I’m packing. Then we can have breakfast and she can fuck off and I can meet the lads at Charlie’s house. Order restored. Harmony re-established. I therefore cannot understand why I’m pushing the door open again.

  “Wait,” I hear myself shout but she doesn’t answer, staring at the lift doors instead.

  Puzzled I dart into the hall and she must sense me behind her because she turns before I can touch her. “There’s no need to do that. You’re welcome to stay here.” Inside me my inner voice is screaming abort abort but she looks intently at my face and offers me a lopsided grin that’s full of a sudden impish charm. She looks like nothing less than some naughty fairy full of mischief and it’s charming beyond belief.

  “You’re sure?” she asks hesitantly. “I wouldn’t want to put you out. After all you likely value your privacy and you don’t know me at all.” She’s almost unconsciously using her hands to talk and all of a sudden the placements of her fingers and the echoes of formalised gestures and the way that she stares at my face make me see the light.

  “You’re deaf,” I gasp and she laughs, a deep chuckle that makes shivers run down my spine.

  “Not fully, but yes I’m partially deaf. Is that a problem?”

  “Of course not.” I make sure that I’m facing her now, realising why she hadn’t answered when she had her back to me.

  She smiles at me almost kindly and pushes her hair back revealing the shell of a hearing aid in her left ear. “It’s okay. I wasn’t born deaf, it came as an after effect of having bacterial meningitis. I can hear a lot through the hearing aid and I lip read and do sign language. It’s just if I’m in another room, there’s lots of background noise or I have my back to anyone that’s talking or at a distance I struggle.”

  I lean against the door flirtatiously. “So we should stay close together then at all times?”

  Instead of unravelling at my feet like other women however I’m stunned to see her throw her head back and laugh. When she’s calmed down she turns back to me smiling still. “Ah there it is, the O’Connell flannel. Your ma and Father Reilly warned me about you.”

  “Warned you.” I’m indignant and would love to pay a visit home and see who this Father Reilly is that seems to be influencing the women in my life.

  “They told me that you were a pretty package but I was to resist you for the sake of my soul,” she says solemnly but then relents. “Not really. Your ma said she’d castrate you if you ruined me. Made me feel a bit like a character from a Catherine Cookson novel.” I laugh and she looks earnestly at me, examining me almost as if she’s reading my face. “Are you sure about me staying here? I won’t cramp your style and I’ll sign any non-disclosure forms that you want me to.”

  I scoff and wave her in, unable to believe that my mouth and body are operating completely independent of my head which is reminding me that yes she is going to cramp my style, and yes she will be in the way. “Of course you won’t be in the way.” Yes there goes my mouth again. “There’s plenty of room. Take whichever bedroom suits you best. The one at the end of the hall on the first floor might be good. It’s got a lovely view of the river and an en suite bathroom.”

  She’s staring at me now and I flush slightly but then she smiles. “You’ll hardly know that I’m here,” she promises earnestly.

  Famous last fucking words!

  Alys

  I can’t actually believe that I’m in Bram O’Connell’s flat and he’s dressed in his underwear. I’m trying not to be a total fan girl but there are many women who would pay to change places with me for the chance to be this close to the famous bass guitarist.

  Beggar’s Choice have been a hugely successful band worldwide for years. They’re feted as much for their humorous yet hard hitting lyrics and their compulsively catchy tunes, as they are for the sheer gorgeousness of all four mem
bers. However, Bram is in a class all of his own and is one of the most beautiful men that I’ve ever seen. Sadly this knowledge isn’t limited to me and although he’s touted as one of the most talented bass guitarists on the scene at the moment, he’s equally famous for being a total man whore.

  I follow him through the flat trying not to gawp at the sheer size of the place. We walk through a large, airy lounge filled with a humungous, beige sectional sofa and big, comfy, leather armchairs. Everything is bathed in early morning sunshine owing to the floor to ceiling windows all along two of the walls.

  Through the windows I can see a large patio which seems to extend around the corner and out of sight. Colourful pots of flowers stand on expensive looking decking, while patio chairs and loungers look inviting with their brightly coloured cushions. I can just imagine drinking my first cup of coffee of the day while looking at the river and the superb view of London’s skyline.

  We pass a couple of doors one of which shows a gym and the other what looks like a study as there’s a wall full of bookshelves, but I can’t be sure as I’m trying not to stare too openly.

  I’m also trying not to ogle that tight ass in the navy Calvin Klein boxer briefs sashaying in front of me, and God all that golden skin stretched tight over hard muscles. He’s just so gorgeous, with shaggy golden brown hair that tangles around a high cheek boned face, full sulky lips framed by a rough beard and hazel brown eyes that seem to glow gold.

  His body is long and slim with wide shoulders and narrow hips and there’s not a spare inch of fat on him. Running down the entire right side of his torso is a beautiful, stark tattoo done in black and white of what looks like a Celtic griffin which is interesting because if I remember correctly the griffin is a symbol of duality because it balances both good and bad qualities.