by Katee Robert
The youngest sister, the one who’d fled at the sight of her. Promising.
Then again, she was preferable to Carrigan, who seemed inclined to go for her throat. Charlie had a significant amount of training, but she couldn’t say beyond a shadow of a doubt that she’d walk away from a violent encounter with that woman. Carrigan had the feel of someone who fought dirty and fought to win.
“Yes. Keira.” Aiden paused in front of the last door. It faced the front of the house, and Charlie nearly rolled her eyes. The window opened to both a tree and a fire escape. Convenient way for the twenty-one-year-old woman to escape whenever she saw fit.
“Why don’t you move her room if she’s causing such issues?”
His mouth thinned, the slightest of tells. She’d bet a ton of money that his little sister followed the tradition of little sisters everywhere—giving their older brothers no end of trouble. “It’s complicated.”
Obviously, he wasn’t going to bend over backward to explain things to Charlie. Fine. She didn’t need to know about the inner workings of the O’Malley family or details about the wounds than ran so deep they seemed to be splintering the siblings apart. She wasn’t really engaged to Aiden. It wasn’t her job to fix the broken people in this house.
She wouldn’t be here long enough to try, even if she was interested.
Charlie knew what it was like to have a family fall apart, but it still seemed like such a waste. She’d never had siblings—she’d never had anyone but her dad. Aiden had five living siblings and he seemed to only have regular contact with two of them. She couldn’t help comparing their situations. Even with the limited information she had, it was clear Teague, Carrigan, and Sloan had more or less fled the O’Malleys because of their father.
Aiden could mend those fences. Carrigan, especially, wouldn’t have been so furious about his getting “engaged” to Charlie if she didn’t still care about him.
But he didn’t seem interested in even trying.
She just didn’t get it.
“So what is it that you need from me?” There. That made her sound just as perfectly polite and disinterested as he was acting.
From the sharp look he sent her, it wasn’t quite what she was aiming for. “My sister is a key part of keeping Romanov occupied while we get the other pieces into place. She can’t do that if she’s trying to sneak off every time I turn around.”
Comprehension dawned. “You want me to babysit your self-destructive sister?” She wasn’t sure what she found more irritating—that he wanted her to play babysitter or that he hadn’t just come out and asked her in the first place.
He sighed. “I want you to talk to her, to spend time with her and, yes, to keep her from getting in over her head in the meantime.”
“You know, you don’t have to handle me. I’m not one of your siblings, or an employee. We’re in this together.” She turned so she wouldn’t give in to the temptation to watch his face for a flicker of the man beneath the mask. The door looked like every other one in the hallway, except for the punk music coming through loud enough to shake the walls. She counted to ten, but Aiden didn’t seem all that inclined to jump in. “And what about after?”
“After.”
It wasn’t quite a question, but she still glanced at him. Or maybe she was just weak and he was a pretty puzzle that fascinated her far more than he had a right to. “What about after we take down Romanov? What happens to Keira then?”
“It won’t matter, because you won’t be here to see it.” He turned on his heel and stalked away, leaving her staring after him, her stomach in knots.
Not going to be here. Just pretend. God, Charlie, stop forgetting that.
One day and she was already having trouble telling reality from pretend. It was like she’d tumbled into the twilight zone, and up was down and down was up. Nothing made sense anymore. She shouldn’t care what Aiden thought of her or if he was as eager to see the back of her as he was to see his enemy brought down.
It shouldn’t matter.
But it kind of did.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Keira’s room was a mess. No, calling it a mess was too kind. Charlie couldn’t take a single step without fear of trampling on piles of clothes and empty bottles and discarded magazines. Aiden’s sister sat on the bed, a joint dangling between her fingers with the ease of someone who smoked often. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
The music was so loud, Charlie had to read her lips. Aiden owes me for this. She carefully made her way to the stereo and shut it off, the silence as deafening as the music had been. “We weren’t properly introduced yesterday.”
“That’s because I don’t care who you are.” Keira took a long inhale from the joint, the end shining a bright orange. She exhaled a cloud of noxious smoke. “You won’t last. Your pussy might have my brother acting temporarily insane, but he’s too smart to actually marry you.”
Charlie stared at her for a long moment and then burst out laughing. After all the careful verbal circling with Aiden, Keira was a hurricane blast of fresh air. “Cute. Really cute. You kiss your mother with that mouth?”
“Please. My mother is one of the most vicious members of this family.” She grimaced. “Though she’d kick my ass for saying ‘pussy.’ ”
Charlie tried to picture the woman responsible for bringing seven O’Malleys into the world, and failed. The ones she’d met were such strong characters. She didn’t know if she should be terrified of their mother or pity the woman.
Since Keira didn’t seem inclined to move from her spot, Charlie waded through the clothes to the single chair next to the bed. “Here’s the deal—I won’t insult your intelligence by pussyfooting around.”
The woman arched her eyebrows. “I see what you did there.”
That was almost amusement. She’d take what she could get. Charlie sat cross-legged on the chair, not wanting to have any more contact with the floor and its mystery contents than necessary. “Regardless of whether you agree with it or not, your brother is marrying me.” Liar. But she had to play this as if it was real or Keira would see right through her. If Charlie was really marrying Aiden, she wouldn’t put up with this bullshit for a second.
Which meant she couldn’t now. It wasn’t fair to take out her aggravation at Aiden on his sister, but she’d known the woman a grand total of two minutes and it couldn’t be clearer that what Keira needed most was a kick in the ass by someone who had nothing to gain from her. Charlie had no problem being the one providing that.
“You can play nice and try to get to know me, or you can keep stomping around like a petulant teenager and end up with one of Aiden’s men shadowing your every move.”
Keira took another pull off the joint. “I take it this means you’re playing good cop. Is Aiden going to come in here and yell at me again if I tell you to fuck right off?”
“Have it your way.” Charlie gritted her teeth and stood. “You want to turn down a chance to get the hell out of here for a while just to piss off your brother, that’s your call. If you change your mind, I’ll be in the library.” Liam had mentioned it in passing during their shopping spree, so that was one room she was reasonably sure she could spend time in without someone calling foul.
She made it to the door before Keira said, “Oh for fuck’s sake, don’t leave in a huff. I know coming in here wasn’t your idea.” When Charlie turned around, she held up the joint. “Want some?”
“I don’t smoke.”
She shrugged. “There’s a bottle of vodka in the desk.”
It was nine in the morning, but Charlie made her way to the desk and opened the drawer to find that there was, indeed, a bottle of vodka stashed there. She uncapped it and took a hefty swig, conscious of the younger woman’s gaze on her.
Keira huffed. “No holier-than-thou shit about drinking before noon? Maybe you’ll actually be entertaining. Okay, Charlie, why don’t you tell me how you and my brother met?”
It didn’t pass her notice that Keira had
remembered her name from their brief introduction before. If Charlie guess was correct, there was a sharp mind behind those glazed eyes, though it was a toss-up if it would be put to good use.
Did it bother Aiden that Keira was spending all her time blitzed out of her mind? The family had enough money for rehab, though it would be a challenge to keep Keira there if she was as adept at sneaking out as she seemed to be. But …
She was his little sister. She was obviously drowning, and just as obviously desperate for something—anything—to save her. She wouldn’t have latched on so quickly to Charlie if she was actually intent on destruction, which only made the whole situation more tragic.
Charlie took another, smaller drink. It wasn’t her problem. Aiden might need her help with Dmitri, but he couldn’t have made it clearer that he had no interest in her meddling with the family. She had to remember that.
Focus. Keira asked you a question. She and Aiden had come up with an origin story that seemed plausible enough. Now it was just a matter of selling it. As off-center as she felt after crossing the line with Aiden last night, the fact that he’d had his hands and mouth all over her body would only help legitimize the whole thing. “I run a backroom poker game—high-stakes.”
Keira studied the smoke swirling from the end of the almost-depleted joint. “Is there any other kind of backroom poker game?”
She laughed. “No, I guess there isn’t. Your brother attended a few times, and the second time, he stuck around and we had a few drinks.” Keira’s hazel eyes started to glaze over in a way that had nothing to do with the pot she was smoking. Charlie raised her eyebrows. “And then we fucked on the poker table.”
“Magical pussy.” Keira snapped her fingers. “I knew it. It’s a very rags-to-riches story, because, God knows, you didn’t buy those clothes with your money.”
She’d expected this, which was part of the reason she’d resisted the shopping in the first place. Aiden had turned around and argued that being a gold digger was a motivation people would understand more than love at first sight. “What we have works for us.”
“I’ll just bet it does.” Keira shot her a look. “You’re nuts for voluntarily coming into this life, and I think you have no idea what you signed on for, great sex or no. But I get it.”
There was something there, something beneath the words. Charlie studied her, wondering where she’d come across a man who’d turned her head enough to make her question everything. If she runs off with him … it would be a disaster.
But telling her that—reminding her of her duty—was just going to spur Keira into actions she might not have otherwise done. She seemed contrary like that.
Her thoughts must have shown on Charlie’s face, because Keira rolled her eyes. “Trust me—I’m not going to break rank. I’m destined to marry the monster in the castle, except I’m not beautiful or virginal enough to tame him, and this isn’t a fairy tale, where my wit and charm are going to see me into a happily ever after.” She sounded so defeated, Charlie had the insane urge to hug her.
“It’ll be okay.” She said it out of habit, but the truth was that no one—not Aiden, or Charlie, or Keira—could guarantee that it was the truth.
“You keep telling yourself that. You’re the only one in the room with a magic pussy that makes men lose their minds.” Keira rolled onto her side and took another puff of her joint, finishing it off and tossing it into the ashtray perched precariously on her nightstand. “But I’m tired of talking about me and my pathetic life. You said you run a poker game—teach me to play.”
* * *
“You can’t be serious.”
Aiden looped the tie around his neck. “It’s the best opportunity we’ll have.” He watched Charlie in the mirror as he tied the knot. It was strange getting dressed while talking to her. He’d stayed away from her as much as possible the last few days, though they were required to put on a good show during dinner for whoever attended.
But he hadn’t let things get intimate since that first night.
“You want to talk to the Eldridges at a party you’re throwing for Dmitri and Keira? That’s insane. Do you know what those women are capable of? Not to insult your manliness, but they make the O’Malleys look like schoolgirls by comparison.”
“It’s important to the greater plan.” Romanov thought the Eldridges would ascribe to the theory that the enemy of their enemy was their friend—or if not a friend, at least a useful tool. Aiden wouldn’t have to fake his hatred of the Russian, and they both believed that Alethea would approach him as a result.
Charlie crossed one long leg over the other and cocked her head. The move sent her hair, pinned to one side, cascading over her shoulder. “You’re playing a dangerous game.”
“I know.” He finished with his tie and shrugged into his jacket. “Desperate times.”
“Very.” Charlie rose, and he caught his breath all over again at the sight of her. She wore a silver dress that just about hit the floor, a slight flare in the fabric drawing attention to her hips and narrow waist and how well her breasts filled out the beaded bodice. As she turned to the door, he staggered to a stop. The dress dipped down to just below the small of her back. Any lower and it’d be indecent, and he couldn’t stop staring, anticipating the fabric shifting just a bit.
She looked over her shoulder. “Marvelous, isn’t it?”
“That’s one word.” He cleared his throat, tamping down the need to tell her to put on a wrap or, even better, change. She wasn’t his. Walking into that room and drawing every male gaze was the intention. If the men were so busy thinking about her, they wouldn’t be watching their words as closely as they should.
Knowing that still didn’t dampen his desire to toss her on the bed and fuck her until his scent clung to her skin, so that every man she’d come into contact with tonight would have no doubt as to who she belonged to.
“Aiden?”
He blinked, finding her watching him with concern in her blue eyes. “I’m fine.”
“Are you sure?” She took a half step toward him before she seemed to remember their relationship wasn’t the kind that allowed for comforting. She gave a faint smile, something melancholy flitting across her expression before she shut it down. “If it’s any consolation, I have a large amount of respect for the lengths you’re willing to go for your family.”
John Finch had failed her horribly if she thought what Aiden was doing was admirable. Probably after she was labeled a dirty cop. In the research he’d done on the man, the FBI agent didn’t seem like the type to allow for gray area. Either a person was a criminal or they weren’t. To have his daughter labeled as one of the people he hunted had to have shaken him to the core.
Anger rose, threatening to melt the cold wall he kept around himself. It shouldn’t fucking matter if Charlie was a dirty cop. She was the last living member of Finch’s immediate family—his daughter. It wasn’t like she’d been accused of murder. The charge had been accepting a bribe, which was the very definition of petty shit. For her to be turned out after that …
It made him want to orchestrate a private conversation with John Finch that had nothing to do with the O’Malleys, and everything to do with the daughter he’d hurt so spectacularly with his callousness.
Aiden shifted, not liking the turn of his thoughts. Charlie was a means to an end. She’d have to fight her own battles—Aiden had enough people to watch over without adding a former cop who would never understand that his life wasn’t the same as most people’s and he could give two fucks how many laws he broke in the pursuit of protecting his family.
As much to remind himself as to remind her, he asked, “Does your father know where you are right now?”
Charlie frowned. “My father is no concern of yours.”
She didn’t ask how he knew enough about her father to ask, and he didn’t offer. Admitting that her role as John Finch’s daughter was a large reason why he’d singled her out might be enough to make her bolt, and Aiden had put too mu
ch time and money into this plan to change gears now.
No one but Charlie would do.
So he allowed her to change the subject.
She walked to the mirror and fixed her brilliant red lipstick, close enough that her shoulder brushed his. “Your sister is drowning. I think half the reason she’s been sneaking out is so someone will pay attention to her.”
He didn’t particularly want to hear about the ways he was failing Keira. He knew. He had been for years. “She’s not happy when I pay attention to her. She claims I’m stifling her.”
“And you just listen to her?” Charlie snorted, but the amusement fled as soon as it’d appeared. “Those ruined paintings in her room, the ones that have been ripped to shreds or smeared with black … those were hers, weren’t they? It’s not my place to say it—”
“Then don’t.” He spoke too harshly, but he couldn’t stop himself. Aiden put his hands on her hips and leaned against her back, pressing her against the counter and meeting her gaze in the mirror. “Leave it alone.”
She glared. “Don’t ask too many questions, don’t try to fix things. Am I allowed to piss without your permission, or should I check in with you first?”
This was what he needed—a fight or a fuck to burn off some energy before he had to get his mask firmly in place. “Don’t be pissy.”
“I’m not the one being pissy.” She pushed back against him, but he didn’t give her an inch. “Back off.”
“Why are you really angry, Charlie? Because I’m telling you not to meddle with my family? Or because I haven’t touched that pretty pussy of yours in days?” He ignored her gasp of outrage and reached around to press the heel of his hand against the junction of her thighs. “Do you ache for me?”
She laughed softly, the sound hoarse as she pressed back against him again. “Who said I need you?” Red haze filtered across his vision, and her next words did little to calm it. “I’m quite capable of taking care of that myself.” She covered his hand with her own, digging her nails in a little. “In fact, I fingered myself while you were in the shower.”
