Poisoned Ivy

by D W Marshall

  I did it!

  “What is the meaning of this?” Da shouts. I’m sure it looks much worse than it is.

  Miles hops up. We are both embarrassed. “Miles was showing me how to get out of a hold if someone grabs me from behind. Self-defense, Da,” I say.

  “She is a natural, sir,” Miles says.

  Da looks back and forth between Miles and me as if he is not sure what to believe. “Well, then. Carry on,” he says. He walks out the door, closing it behind him, then swiftly opening it back, all the way.

  Message received.

  “Thanks, Miles. I think I will hit the hay, but I would love to try some of this again,” I say, punching the air in celebration for successfully flipping him onto the ground. “I am a natural.”

  Miles laughs at my display. “Deal.”

  I feel his eyes on me as I make my way out of the office.

  I say goodnight to my family, who will most likely be here when I wake up in the morning, Irish whiskey putting them on their backs for sure. No surprise. Us Irish don’t need an excuse to party. I pop another Blanko and fall into my bed. I think I am asleep before my head hits the pillow. I dream.

  I am in The Chamber. It is midweek and my groomer has just finished preparing me for the men who will have me tonight. I am dressed in a beautiful jade green gown that shimmers. From behind it appears to be any normal ball gown, full with layers underneath. But it tells a different story from the front because the fabric doesn’t connect. Instead, it is held together by three carefully appointed ribbons tied into bows across my chest and stomach. Everything is exposed. The stranger tells me to stand by the bed. I follow his command, my eyes closed because I don’t want to see who is coming for me. I don’t even open them when I feel hot lips attach to my nipple, sucking and licking. The stranger quickly goes to work on the ribbons, pushing the gown off my shoulders, and the gown falls in a puddle on the floor. A warm hand cups my sex and gives it a soft squeeze before two fingers slip inside me. Steadily in and out the fingers move, while the mouth finds my other nipple and begins sucking. The motion inside me begins to stir feelings deep in the pit of my belly. I don’t want it to feel good but it does. I am guided to sit on the edge of the bed, and feel the presence of a cock wanting to enter my mouth. My eyes still closed, I take it into my mouth and suck. It is warm and salty and thick. I suck and lick the entire length, hearing moans of delight from the stranger.

  When he is satisfied, he lays me down on the bed and instructs me to move back. I do. With my eyes still closed, I feel his breath upon my face, the warmth of his body over me. This isn’t my first night in The Chamber, and I’ve learned that if I close my eyes, I can pretend this is anyone I want it to be.

  “Open your eyes and look at me.” The voice is kind and familiar.

  When I open my eyes the stranger who isn’t a stranger sinks his cock deep inside me. It is Miles. Oh. This changes everything. When I glance around, we are not in The Chamber but my bedroom at home. I wrap my arms around his neck and pull his face to mine, kissing him deeply, thanking him for every thrust inside me. I tilt my hips up greedily to get more of him. Over and over he pushes deep inside me. It is heaven. I build and build with each thrust, as his brown skin and my ivory become a blend of one. We both come apart at the seams together, crying out each other’s names.

  I wake up alone in my dark room. “Whew, well that wasn’t a nightmare,” I say into the air. I am surprised to dream about Miles, especially a dream like that. Now I am going to blush around him.

  Chapter Seven

  Miles: Blurring the Lines

  I have officially crossed a line. It has nothing to do with any interaction I had with Maeve because the entire night I was professional, on my best behavior. The problem is how I felt about our interactions. When we were in the coffee shop, in complete silence, I felt something. It was looking into her eyes and seeing her pain. Then the protection I felt when she bumped into her friend on the street. Of course, I am supposed to protect her, but feeling protective of her this way is so much more personal. I know I have only known her for a few weeks, but she is in my system somehow and I can’t shake her. I don’t know if this is a damsel-in-distress scenario, but I can’t let myself fall for her. It would jeopardize my protection detail. If I can’t protect her then I shouldn’t be here. I have never fallen for the damsel before and I can’t start now.

  I knew I was in trouble when I watched her walk toward her father’s office last night. There was really no reason for me to follow her—she was home and she was safe. But that didn’t stop me. I was compelled to follow. For whatever reason is driving me, I don’t want her to be sad anymore. She is so sad. And then I learned that not once, but twice in her life she was taken against her will. It’s not my job to save her or put a smile on her face, but for some reason that I can’t explain, I want it to be.

  I am startled by a knock at the guest house door. Too deep in thought. Caught off guard. Not good. I open the door to find Mr. O’Malley on the other side of it. “Sir,” I say.

  “May I come in, Miles?”

  “Of course,” I say. It is his house. “Have a seat anywhere,” I add.

  He clears his throat. He doesn’t sit. Not good. “I wanted to speak with you personally about Maeve.”

  “Okay.” Shit.

  “You know your da and I go way back. I trust him with my life and he trusts you, so I will too…but I know how you youngsters get along with your flirting and your instant gratification, and all that. And, well, I want you to tread lightly because my daughter has been through a great deal. It would be natural for her to grow an attachment to her protector, but I can’t have her gettin’ hurt again. So you just keep it professional between you two, okay?”

  “Yes, sir, I completely understand. Last night I was really teaching her self-defense moves,” I clarify.

  He assesses me and shoves his hands into his pockets. “That may be true, but I saw how my daughter looked at you, the blush in her cheeks. She fancies you, lad, and I want you ta know it so you don’t go crossin’ any professional lines,” he says.

  “Understood, sir.”

  He leaves as quick as he came.

  “Well that wasn’t awkward at all,” I say under my breath.

  She fancies me?

  I’m fancied?

  Nice.

  Chapter Eight

  Maeve: Mind Numbing

  I pop two Blankos when I wake up. After a week of taking them, I find that with the level of trauma I am trying to bury, two pills at a time is the minimum to get through a day in my life. You know, be prepared for any surprises. I need to call Ciara and find out how many of these is safe to take because I am up to six a day so far. At this rate, my two-month supply won’t last a month. I don’t care. I will get more because they are the equivalent of a counselor in a bottle. Whatever synthetic compound is present in them and coursing through my veins just may be the key to me surviving this ordeal.

  It’s been a week since our impromptu family party. I know it is false confidence and joy, but I don’t care—I am ready to venture out. Ciara and Saoirse are overjoyed when I ask to meet them for supper tonight. My folks are happy that I am hanging with my friends, and the twins want to tag along. I really can’t believe what has become of my life. I should be on my honeymoon with Keegan right now. Instead I heard he just returned from his long honeymoon with Gemma.

  When Mason kidnapped me, he ruined everything in my life. He took everything from me.

  I hop in the shower and clean up before I go out. My mind drifts from Keegan to Miles. I haven’t known him very long but I can see that he is an awesome guy. But I know that I can’t mistake his concern for me as anything more than what he was hired to do. But I can’t help it—I dreamt of Miles again last night. That makes three dreams in a week. This one wasn’t sexual at all. We were in love and we were spending the day on the beach, enjoying being in each other’s arms. In my dream with him I was safe, I was loved. That dream was eve
rything. I would take a dream—wrapped in his arms, in the throes of passion, or simply sharing space—to my nightmares any night.

  It doesn’t take my stick-straight hair long to dry. I don a fitted sky blue dress with long, sheer sleeves, and a pair of matching heels, and I am ushered into a car with Miles in back with me.

  “Good evening,” he says and gives me a sideways smile. “You look very pretty,” he mouths.

  “Evening, and thank you,” I say back. I can’t help the warmth that comes to my cheeks and know that there is color there as my dream flashes into my mind.

  “You sure are in a good mood,” he says low enough for me to hear.

  “Had an amazing dream last night,” I say and I boldly gaze into his eyes, before I lose my brazenness and look away.

  “Any dream that put that smile on your face must have been pretty good.”

  If you only knew, Miles. You were its star. If my boldest dream were my real life we would be alone in the backseat of this sedan and I would be straddling you, showing you the highlight reel.

  Pierce takes his place in the passenger seat. He immediately gives his attention to us in the backseat. “What are you two going on about?”

  “Nothing, Mae—I mean, Miss O’Malley was just telling me she is happy because she had a good dream.”

  I cut in. “It was a refreshing change to the nightmares I’ve been having.”

  Satisfied, Pierce turns to face forward in his seat.

  I shoot the girls a text that I am on my way.

  The restaurant Chapter One is an amazing fine dining establishment, and though I love my ma’s home cooking, I can’t wait to sink my teeth into the chef’s mouthwatering dishes. We make it to Parnell Square in record time. Aiden lets us off at the curb and heads out to find a place to park. Inside, the maître d’ takes my coat. I catch Miles as his eyes roam over me from head to toe, but I am careful not to meet them because I don’t want him to feel embarrassed for being caught checking me out.

  The four of us follow a young, beautiful hostess toward the back and I am delighted to see that Ciara and Saoirse reserved The Demi Salle area for tonight. Semiprivate, with room for sixteen. Located in the back of the restaurant, we are somewhat secluded from the other diners, but equally visible. I am sure that this gives the gentlemen assigned to protect me some relief. Maybe they can even relax and enjoy themselves. The room itself is gorgeous, with leather and coffee-color furnishings appointing a banquet-sized table. The girls have already arrived and the second they see me they run squealing in my direction.

  “Maeve! Maeve!” They both shout in unison.

  The three of us jump up and down in a huddle. “This is so pretty. I heard the food is amazing!” I say with excitement. When we separate I introduce them to my security. “This is Aiden, Pierce, and Miles. They are in charge of making sure I don’t get nabbed again. These are my best girls, Saoirse and Ciara.”

  My girls, being the giddy young women they are, wrap each of them in a warm hug, taking all three of them by surprise.

  “Okay, then,” Pierce says. “We will sit down here. Right at the entrance,” Pierce says, and the three of them take a seat at the end of the very large banquet-style table, while we make our way to the opposite end. I feel very safe because the only way to reach me is through three very large and skilled men.

  “So, how does it feel traveling around with three gorgeous blokes?” Ciara asks.

  “Come on, Cee. Only one of them could be classified as gorgeous and that is the very dashing black gentleman. Miles? Is that what you said his name is? He is to die for!” Saoirse giggles. “The other two are handsome in that avuncular sort of way.” Referring to Aiden and Pierce.

  “What is the story with Miles? Are you tapping that? ‘Cause I would be, especially after what you’ve been through, Maeve,” Ciara says. “What is the saying? Best way to get over a man is to get under a new one,” she says in a hushed tone, but I wouldn’t be surprised if Miles heard her.

  Saoirse and I shake our heads.

  I glance down at the table, and of course Miles is looking at me. He is always watching me. He really is a specimen. Even in his suit you can see that he has the body of an athlete. But I know firsthand that he does because my recent memories are of my body pressed against his. I’m not a fool. I am not going to jump into a relationship with the first gorgeous guy who pays attention to me, but it feels good to have a gorgeous man who knows what I’ve been through express any interest in me.

  “Nope. We are just friends and barely that. He is here to protect me, not seduce me,” I say, though the idea has potential. If he makes love like he did in my dream, I think he could erase my pain.

  The waiter comes to our table bringing water with lemon for each of us. “We are all going to be having the chef’s four-course meal,” Saoirse says.

  The waiter starts with us ladies. I order feta cheese mousse, smoked haddock, Hereford prime striploin of beef, and pumpkin cream. I am so excited for my food to arrive. The girls and I order a bottle of twelve-year-old Jameson with every intention of drinking the entire bottle. As soon as the bottle hits the table we do a round of shots. My security team watches us with no emotion. Business.

  “What have I missed this past year?”

  “Nothing. A fat lot of nothing, love. Saoirse and I have been living quite gregariously on our families’ loot. My ma says I need to get my arse in school or I’m getting cut off. Of course, my da would never go for his only daughter being penniless, so good luck with that, Ma!” Ciara shouts at no one. “Right now life is one big party, especially now that our girl is back. Let’s toast!”

  “With shots? That’s rubbish. You toast with champagne,” I say, giggling, the first shot of whiskey already warming me on the inside.

  “You can toast with any fecking thing you want. Raise your bloody glasses!” Ciara yells.

  She’s right. We fill our shot glasses and hold them up, making sure they all touch. “To second chances at life,” Ciara says. We clink glasses, but we don’t drink because there is no way she is finished. “To getting rid of fecking douchebag ex-fiancés who don’t have the brains god gave a fecking goldfish, may his fecking lad fall off!”

  We attempt to take our shots.

  “I’m not finished! My word, you two are a couple of boozy broads!” We burst out in the giggles again. “And lastly,” she eyes us as she informs us this is the end of our toast, “may our girl Maeve find happiness in the arms of a handsome and muscular man who shall remain nameless!” Then she nods her head toward the end of the table where Pierce, Aiden, and Miles are sitting.

  “Ciara!” I don’t dare turn to look at Miles. I am too embarrassed. Ciara is not known for her subtlety and she made sure everyone at our table heard her.

  We guzzle our shots and I pour another one as fast as I can. I need to feel numb and now, because I have a feeling my girls plan to embarrass the shite out of me.

  After four shots I am good and numb. “Hey, before I can’t string my words together I need more Blankos, I mean outs. They are amazing.”

  “Are you out already?” Saoirse says, her eyebrows raised in question.

  “Don’t get your panties in a wad. I still have some, but I don’t think they will last two months. They are a-fecking-mazing!”

  “No worries, love, I got you,” Ciara says.

  I catch Saoirse’s worried glances a couple of times. She is definitely the more sensible one in our little group.

  I take a gander down the table to Miles. He and the other guys are drinking soda of some sort—it is clear. Of course, they can’t drink on the job. Miles is having a quiet conversation with Pierce, while Aiden is looking around. I manage a smile in Miles’s direction and he returns it. Deep dimples adorn each cheek. God, he really is beautiful.

  Our first course comes and I dig right in. Beetroot is my favorite—it’s an acquired taste. Mmm. Our second course is laid in front of us before I finish the first. Looks like Miles went for the duck
. I will have to catalog that for the future.

  What?

  “You have got to be fecking kidding me!” A deep, booming voice interrupts our enjoyment. A voice I recognize. I look in the direction of the noise and find Keegan and Gemma standing at the entrance of our small room. “There has got to be some fecking law for stalking, Maeve. First yar callin’ me and now you are followin’ me!”

  I am shocked. He thinks I came here because he would be here? What’s worse is he is loud about his accusations. I attempt to inform him that he is incorrect. “I had no idea—”

  He cuts me off, anger coloring his face. I never noticed him being so tempered before. I knew he stopped loving me, but now I’m fairly sure that he absolutely despises me.

  “Can it, Maeve. I told you it’s over and I mean it! Don’t make me invite the Garda.”

  Miles jumps up, Pierce jumps up, followed by Aiden. The three of them block my view of Keegan. Thank god.

  “Just walk away, sir,” Pierce says.

  “He is no sir.” Ciara hops up and heads toward Keegan. “I hope your lad falls off, you rancid sack of monkey shite!” Ciara yells.

  “I will do no such thing! I want the Garda here to file a stalking complaint on Maeve O’Malley!” he shouts.

  Something comes over me and I lose it. I get up from my seat and stand on my chair so that I can see him over my guards. “No one is following you, Keegan! You must be some kind of twit if you think you are the only one to come to this restaurant. I got your message loud and clear so leave me the hell alone!” My girls help me down when I have said my piece.

  Why is he here, ruining my fun night out? He should be holding me, making me whole again. Instead he treats me like spoiled milk. Maybe that is what I am.