He comes back a moment later without his brother.
“Eat your food, Emily,” he admonishes me. “Nate, I want to review the figures we have after the Russian job. I want them watertight.”
Quinn and Nate start some small talk about business, the altercation with Josh forgotten about. All money and accounts. I don’t track it all, but it’s clear that Quinn’s business dealings aren’t all above board. Nate keeps half an eye on me throughout. He offers me tea, and his presence begins to settle me.
Quinn doesn’t say anything else to me. He just frowns and scowls, all the time looking ready to punch someone else. He keeps clenching his right hand, the knuckles a little red from hitting Josh.
“You might want to put some ice on that,” I offer.
He looks at me with a puzzled expression. Our eyes fix on each other, and for a moment I see the man who I first met, everything else slipping away. I’m caught between wanting to go back to Friday night and re-live it all over again—the carefree excitement, the danger, the sheer daring of sleeping with someone on a first date and wanting it again—and wishing I never met Quinn.
“Ice is in the freezer.” Quinn gestures to the appliance in the corner and looks at me expectantly.
I look at Nate, who just does his little non-smile thing, then go to the kitchen and take a cloth hanging on the cooker to lay it out ready for ice. The fridge freezer is ginormous. How Quinn has enough food to fill it is beyond me. I tug open the door and cool air blasts me. It turns out his freezer has little but ice, vodka and a few pizzas. I take the bag of ice and shake a few cubes free.
“Here.” I take the seat next to Quinn and place the makeshift ice pack on his hand. He looks at me, staring deep into my eyes as the coolness seeps into his damaged hand. I press my hand on top, making sure it doesn’t slip. In that moment, I want to ease his pain. It’s an absurd thought. I should be gouging his eyes out, not wanting to help him. But a calmness descends, easing the tension that’s been rife between us. His eyes study me, as if he’s taking mental notes of every freckle, every blemish on my face. The intensity of his eyes reminds me of our first date. They held such secrets then. Such promise of what could be to come.
He smiles for the briefest of moments, and I’m stunned, like I was on our date, at how handsome he is. “Thank you,” he says, his hand covering mine.
“You’re welcome.” I let go of the ice, my fingers slipping from under his, and retreat to the seat next to Nate. Quinn’s brows pull down into a scowl, transforming him into the man who’s terrorised me for the last…how long is it? “What day is it?”
“What day? Thursday.”
My eyes widen, and I pick at the waffle left on my plate. How has it nearly been a week? I look around the room, panic blooming in my chest. Someone will be missing me, won’t they? I can’t just vanish for a week.
“You need some more clothes.”
“Excuse me?”
“Do you want to wear leggings and a jumper every day?” Quinn counters as he stands, keeping the ice wrap on his hand.
“No. Clothes would be good. And underwear.”
“Don’t push it, Emily.”
“Give her a break, Quinn.”
“Not your business, Nate. In fact, we’re done. Email me the figures, and I’ll review them. We can look at the casino accounts tomorrow. I want a full analysis of wastage against the other operating models.”
“You got it.”
Nate stands and shoves his phone into his pocket. “Don’t forget to stand up for yourself. Chin up,” he whispers before leaving.
I wait for Quinn to say something, anything to give me a read on his mood. It seems off. Or at least it’s off compared to what I’ve seen of him. “Do you want me for—”
“Shhh. Don’t speak,” he scolds. I pull my knees up to my chest and wrap my arms around them. Quinn’s mood swings are impossible to follow. It adds to the confusion pickling my brain. I yo-yo from being scared, interested, turned on, repulsed, ashamed, and back to attracted to Quinn, in the space of a minute.
“I’m going to check on something.”
“Okay,” I whisper, unsure if I should stay where I am, see this as an opportunity, or be disappointed he’s leaving.
“I’ll be back, and then we might go out.”
“Out?” Fear sobers my mind as I recount the last time Quinn wanted me to leave the property. Out implies something I won’t like, something that makes me nervous. I’d rather stay here than have that happen again.
“Just us this time. Don’t go anywhere, Emily. I’ll know if you try something.”
Chapter Fifteen
Fresh, cold air hits me as I walk for the main house, bringing my brain back from the fog she’s induced. I glare at the structure, for some reason annoyed with its possessive hold on me. I shouldn’t be, but something about Emily’s fingers under mine makes these grounds feel as insidious and underhanded as they really are.
Nothing here is owned from real achievement, not like she does with her little business. We took it. My father did. He took this place as a repayment, just like I still take what is owed to us now. We have always taken. We scheme and coerce, forcing debts to be honoured in whatever way I now see fit. It’s still as it has always been, but now, walking across this path to get to the only woman I should give a fuck about, it feels uncomfortable.
It started last night when I found her crying in her fitful sleep, tears proving a test I’ve never felt before. They looked so pretty on her as she lay in that bed. They had a grace about them that doesn’t belong here. They weren’t tears of fear or recrimination for a stupidity that brought her here; they were from confusion. And rather than that fact, amuse me and make me play with her again, it distracted me. Enough so that I laid down beside her for a while and let her drift deeper into sleep.
An hour of dealing with Russian tantrums and two fucking guns aimed at me should have been enough to wind me into a frenzy. It should have left me desperate to fuck deep into her and rid myself of the angst. It didn’t. It made me feel something other than hatred, and that unusual sensation sent me straight to my bar for clarity.
None came.
The gravel crunches underfoot as I join the main drive and look up at my mother’s room. She’s up there, one hand stroking the curtain she’s tidying. She doesn’t see me. No eye contact. No acknowledgement for her boy. She just keeps fucking about with the material in her other world. I snort, wondering if Emily feels like she’s in another world. She is, one she doesn’t belong in. That fact was proved by my reaction to the Russians last night. The same reaction that just made me hit my own brother for daring to open his mouth in front of her, let alone being so familiar with her name by shortening it.
“Mr Cane?” I look to the right, noting Maria as she scurries to my side, alarm all over her face. “Your brother took your car.” I raise a brow at her then look behind me at the drive to see both mine and Nate’s cars gone, Josh’s still sitting there. “We tried to stop him but he—”
I wave her off and move towards the house again, a slight huff at the thought of him trashing my car coming from my lips. I don’t care. Perhaps I should, would have a week ago, but not now. Now I’m too busy trying to understand this feeling inside me, find some order in it. Some part of me might even admire his little attempt at retribution if I bother thinking about it. It shows more backbone than I give him credit for. He is our father’s son after all.
I stride through the hall, heading for the only comfort I’ve ever known. She won’t be there for any real sense of sanity, but she’s more genuine in some respects than any of the world around me. She’s the last honest, decent thing that lives here. It’s inevitable that the one time I need her guidance she’ll be elsewhere, but for once I’m hoping for some lucidity to come from her mouth.
The stairs take seconds, and before I’ve fully thought the words through I knock briefly and enter her room, the lock snapping back into place the moment I close the door.
/> She spins, venomous eyes raking over my frame, her hand reaching for a vase to her left.
“Mother?”
Her whole body softens, eyes suddenly becoming those of the woman who used to sing me to sleep.
“Quinn, baby. Look at you.” Her fingers leave the vase then, returning to her side as she walks forward a few paces. “Still so handsome. When did you grow up to be so big?” I smile back, watching as she finds that elegance she’s always possessed. “Quinn looks sad,” she says, the trail of her long red evening gown dragging the carpet. “What’s the matter? Tell mummy. I’m going out soon. You need a lullaby before bed?”
“No, Mother.”
“And you’re not even in your pyjamas yet. Your father will be grumpy.” I couldn’t give one fuck how grumpy my father is, or has ever been. Still, this mood is useable.
She moves off to the side, reaching for her shawl and a bag. I stare for a while, a smile on my face as she prepares for one of her imaginary nights out.
“Where to tonight, Mother?”
“The ballet,” she muses, her feet swaying from side to side. “You know how I love the ballet. We’re flying to New York. Maria will look after the three of you for a few days.” She wanders over to the long mirror, her fingers setting her diamond drop earrings in place as she gazes at her outfit. “It’s our anniversary. Your father always treats me to special dates when it’s an important night.” I sneer at the thought, remembering those other nights when he fucked the entirety of Chicago for fun. “Dates keep the romance alive, Quinn. Without romance there’s nothing to fight for. It all becomes pointless if the fun goes out of a relationship.” She drapes her gold shawl, straightening the matching diamond necklace beneath it. “You’ll understand one day when you’re old enough to fall in love.” She smiles at her finished effort and pats her hair, pushing the curls into place softly. “Love, Quinn,” she says, her head spinning back to me, “Is the only thing worth fighting for.”
I stare with little appreciation for whatever world she’s currently in. Love has been irrelevant to me for so long I can’t remember the feeling in any way.
“How did you know with Father?” She frowns at me, her eyes glazing slightly as she tries to understand my question. “That it was love, Mother.”
“Oh, silly boy.” She walks over and takes my hand, leading me to her bedroom. “You want to sleep in our bed tonight?” I shake my head, but she keeps pulling me to the four-poster until she sits on the comforter and pats the bed next to her. “You just know, Quinn. Love changes what you thought you knew. It’s not like the love for Mummy and Daddy.” She strokes my head, her nails scratching slightly as she tugs me down to her chest. “It’s a beautiful feeling. You’ll give everything for it one day. You change when the right one comes along.”
There’s quiet for a few minutes, nothing but the sound of her room and our breaths. It makes me remember a time when I wasn’t so hardened. Playful fights with two younger brothers. The smell of pancakes in the kitchen, both of those thoughts based in the English countryside where we used to live before this became our life.
The sudden ripping sensation that rakes at my scalp makes me grit my teeth, fists clenching before they do damage to the woman causing the pain. She turns me away from her, nails digging into the flesh on my neck as she yanks at me and then kicks out, screams breaking the quiet of a few seconds ago. My head lolls back, a sigh coming from me as I let myself take the brunt of her anger. She kicks again, her heel making contact with my shin, and then her weight’s gone. I look up, searching the room for her and find her at the other side of it, a book in her hand ready to attack me with it.
“You’re after more, aren’t you?” she spits, a scowl marring the reposed elegance of minutes ago, shawl hanging from her shoulder. She reaches for another book, one in each hand. “You’ve done enough, taken enough. My family’s fucking debt is paid.”
My eyes drop to the carpet. Debt paid.
Because of love.
“Mother?”
“Get the fuck out. Why can’t you leave me alone now? Why? I want to go home.”
“Please, Mother, calm down.”
“Fuck you and your family. You’ve had your fun. Let me go home to my boys.” The thought sickens me, my eyes trying to stay on the carpet rather than acknowledge her body for what it became. She stares, wild eyed, her chin still held high as she prepares for more men. “My family owes you nothing anymore.”
I take a step backward at that, and then another, my hands up in the air in some offering of contrition. She glares, books still poised and ready to launch at me.
“It’s alright, Mother. I’m leaving.”
She spits, the phlegm dribbling from her chin as she braves a step towards me and throws one of the books. I dodge it, wondering if I should or not. Perhaps a good attack at me would do her good, get the angst out, and calm her down. And then as quickly as the venom came, she looks like a lost soul again, her eyes beginning to temper and return to a calmer self.
“Quinn?” I stop, lowering my hands back into my pockets. “Why are you here? You should be in bed, young man.” She flicks her gaze to the book in her hand and smiles. “Did you bring this? Such a loving boy. You’ve always been like your father. Let’s read it, shall we?” She wanders to the bed, straightening her shawl again. “Quickly, come on. He’ll be here soon to pick me up. We’re going to the ballet.” My feet back away slowly, a sneer etched onto my mouth as I watch her settle on the bed, until I turn and head for the door.
I’m nothing like my father.
The lock clicks behind me and I look along the landing, following the lines of the walls that lead to his room. I could go and show him how much I’m not like him, finish the fucker. The gun under this suit gives as few fucks for his existence as I do. There are no qualms here, barely any sense of loyalty to him anymore. There are only four members of this family as far as I’m concerned. His relevance to my thoughts has become nothing but bitter memories of a man who dropped his guard so badly that my mother, his wife, had to pay the price.
My gaze drops to the balcony and stairs, the lavish decoration highlighting the money this family has achieved with its constant corruption and dishonesty.
It tips my lips, a true smile coming with the thought of how solid we now are, because of me. Nothing can touch us. No enemies I haven’t got covered. No threat. No need for any retribution or repayment of debts.
I pull in a breath and listen to the sudden scream and thud of flesh against wood behind me, my mother’s body trying to break through the wood encasing her insanity. Nothing will do that to us again. There’s nothing coming for me that I’m not ten steps ahead of. I’m in control of everything that my father couldn’t govern. I was within a year of taking over. We’re safe now. Contained. Able to breathe a little more calmly than we did back then.
Firm strides lead me away from him, narrowed eyes finally leaving the landing as I reach the bottom steps and head for the entrance hall. I pass Maria as I go and nod her upstairs to my mother. Not that she needs to be told. She’s always there, protecting her from self harm.
For now, though, regardless of the state I’ve left her in, it’s time to leave this godforsaken heap and live my life for a while. Try to understand this sentiment Emily brings out of me. Use it maybe. It’s confusing to me, bringing a sense of discord to what is normally so simplistic. Numbers and death. Charts and money. And yet, with her around, I’m slowly feeling trapped in unclear territory, as if the feds are on my ass for something they’ve got over my head. They haven’t got anything on me. They’ve got nothing on any of us, but that’s the feeling that’s tainting the clear air I walk out into.
I stare at Josh’s car, considering why Emily affects me in ways she shouldn’t. She’s just another woman. Just another pussy to delve into. But the way she held that ice on my hand, the way my own hand touched hers was fuck all to do with pussy. That’s emotion and interest in something that does not belong in my world.
Minutes pass and I find myself pressing the Lamborghini's lock, the door rising upwards in front of my eyes. I don’t know what I’m doing, but Mother said romance was important, that I’d know love when it hit me.
Maybe that’s what this is. It’s not fucking wanted. She should stay locked in that house, be sent back to England even. Women like Emily don’t belong here, irrespective of my need for those innocent eyes to connect with mine.
The engine revs, the purr of it reminding me of youth and unencumbered thoughts before I became head of this enterprise. I stare at the main house then flick my gaze down the drive towards mine. I can smell her in there, even from here, see her as she wanders aimlessly. Confused and alone. It makes me spin the wheel, purposely focused on getting the fuck out of here for a while, and hit the accelerator so hard gravels flies out behind me. I snort, amused at my childish actions. Fuck. Where the fuck am I going? I’m Quinn Cane for fuck’s sake. And what? This woman is controlling how I act? Screw that.
I floor the damn car back in her direction, both irritated and elated at the thought of taking her with me. I don’t know where to. Who gives a fuck? We’ll just go on one of those dates Mother talks so fondly of. She can take some fucking photos or some shit. Smile.
The brakes slam on and the car rakes the gravel up again, the slide of the back wheels landing me precisely where I aimed for. I’m out and barging through the front door before I’ve thought rationally about anything.
“Emily?” I shout, not seeing her anywhere. She rounds a corner in front of me, the cream jumper and leggings making her appear cute for a reason I choose not to think about. “We’re going out.”
She stops, her eyes widening as I march over to her and grab her by the arm, dragging her back out and towards the car.
“Out? But I haven’t got any shoes on. I’m barely dressed, Quinn.” I couldn’t give one fuck about shoes. We’ll get some while we’re out.
I shove her towards the car then round to the other side to get in myself. I’ll take her somewhere to get some shoes, and a coat. Whatever the fuck she needs, we’ll get later.
Innocent Eyes Page 14
