“You two driving to the meeting together?” Anna asked after Adam greeted her with a kiss, still holding Braden, who was patting his cheeks and demanding attention.
“I thought it’d be easier,” Adam answered, looking to me for an okay, and I nodded.
“Holly should be here any second to pick me up,” Anna said. “Wait with us downstairs?”
In the building’s lobby, Adam and I stood on each side of Braden, holding his little hands, swinging him forward before making a dramatic whoosh back, which had him laughing and begging for more.
I peered over as Holly pulled her SUV up in front of the building a minute later, and Adam buckled his son into the back car seat next to Siobhan.
I’d never have predicted Sebastian would be such an excellent father. He and Holly had an amazing relationship and were also great parents. Part of me wondered if I’d ever have kids. Have a family and the kind of love that my siblings experienced with their spouses.
“Love ya, babe. Don’t have too much fun.” Adam leaned in and kissed Anna in a hot, fierce kiss that had Holly playfully whistling.
“Get a room, will ya?” I teased. Anna shot me a smile, her cheeks blushing a rosy pink before getting into the passenger seat.
Adam ducked in for one last kiss, then shut the door, patted the side twice as if sending them on their way and faced me. His mood changed the moment they were gone. The shift from father and husband to “honorary League member.”
We walked in silence to my new black Maserati GranTurismo. It was a sophisticated sedan with a race car engine, which was probably why the vehicle’s slogan was, “Rarely seen. Always Heard.” Beautifully packaged power with a hot red interior.
Red. The bold color reminded me of Emilia and her sensuous red-painted lips. Sleek, classy, and a total badass. I wasn’t one to compare a car to a woman, but . . . had I subconsciously chosen this Italian car because of her?
I pushed the thought away and pulled onto the road. The Maserati was yet another toy I’d bought to get a handle on my tension. Dropping far too much money on a performance car seemed like a wiser choice than fucking my way through half of Dublin. Just because I couldn’t be with the woman I wanted, didn’t mean I should resort to random hookups to ease my frustration.
“You’re turning into the me I was seven years ago. The pre-Anna me,” Adam casually commented. “Remember when I went through that phase of buying fancy, expensive toys?”
“How could I forget? Although I have no plans to buy a chopper.”
“Hey, it came in handy for that op back in October with those Navy SEALs in Italy.” Adam shook his head. “Did I just say op? We Special Forces guys now?”
“I don’t think Spec Ops guys are vigilantes.”
“You and I both know those guys weren’t typical military. Hell, they even persuaded Sebastian to kill again.”
“You shouldn’t have even gone with us to Italy for that. Just because you’ve decided to partake in League meetings doesn’t mean I want you putting your neck on the line. You have a family.”
He grumbled something under his breath. A few cheap shots, most likely. “Sebastian has a family.”
“That’s different. Sebastian has been League since he was eighteen.” He’d been pulled into the organization by the French League leader, Édouard Moreau, which was how Sebastian met and became friends with Édouard’s nephew, Luca. It wasn’t until years later that Sebastian and Édouard discovered the extent of Luca’s disloyalty. “Don’t want anything happening to you. I’m the one with the least to lose. I don’t have a wife and kids.”
“You’re not expendable. Don’t piss me off with that shite,” Adam said, his tone dipping lower.
“Anyway.” Out of my peripheral view, I caught my twin closing his eyes and resting his head back.
“Long day?” I asked, wondering if his sudden mood swing was a result of something else.
He rolled his head to the side to glance at me. “A couple of the kids at the youth center got into some trouble.” He muttered a string of curses under his breath. “New drug dealer in town pushing dope on them.”
My grip on the wheel tightened. “Give me the details. I’ll handle it,” I said, thinking back to Anna’s concerns. Adam needed to keep his hands clean of our late-night activities as part of The League. “Cole can come with me.”
“This is my problem. I’d like to look the man in the eyes who is getting fourteen-year-olds high on my streets,” he seethed.
“Adam, Anna has concerns about your involvement with The League. Or maybe more so fears. I don’t think—”
I glimpsed at him as he sat taller. “She told you that?”
What else could I do but nod? I didn’t want to cause an issue between them, but I also didn’t want Braden losing his father or Anna losing her husband.
The grimace on his lips faded as he said, “Fine. You and Cole handle the drug dealer.”
“I got it. Don’t worry.”
“Can’t believe this is your life,” Adam spoke up a few minutes later as we neared Grafton Street in the city. “Or Cole’s. Still feels like my fault that you’re in this mess.”
“Don’t start with that. I thought we were over this bullshite of you blaming yourself for everything.”
“We wouldn’t be caught up in this fecking dilemma if not for my fighting,” he said, and out of the corner of my eye, I could see him flexing his hands.
“You can’t blame yourself for what happened. You fought to save Anna. You went up against a criminal instead of bowing down in defeat like most would have in your position. No way could you have known that the crime lord you were dealing with was connected to some evil criminal organization.” When he didn’t speak up, I added, “I have a feeling this mess would have found us one way or another.” I twisted in my seat and faced him while waiting for the pedestrians to cross at the next light. “And honestly, I’m fairly convinced it’s fate.”
“Fate,” Adam scoffed, as if not convinced.
“All of it.” I let go of a deep, pent-up breath. “Hell, it has to be. Because ten years ago I was sitting ringside at a fight in Vegas right alongside Emilia, I just didn’t know her name at the time.”
“Say what?”
I scratched at my jaw, the week-old beard suddenly annoying. “Da sent me to the States after we bought some American company. I was to wine and dine the CEO and a few others . . . entertain them. They chose Vegas. Big fans of the UFC stuff you like,” I explained while pulling through the green light.
“What fight? Who was on the main card?”
“I don’t remember.” I shot him a pointed look. “But anyway, I almost slept with Emilia that night. We talked. Kissed. But then, at the last minute, she backed out.” I gave him a few seconds to process the details.
“She’s the woman you couldn’t stop talking about for weeks when you came back from the trip. I remember now. I’d thought you’d lost your bloody mind. You never talked about a woman you slept with, let alone one you didn’t.”
Eerily, he was right about that.
“You must’ve been feckin’ surprised when she showed up at your flat in Dublin a few years back. Did she mention anything to you about Vegas? To be honest, I’m not sure if I’d remember a woman I made out with ten years ago.”
“You would if that woman had been Anna, even if you didn’t see her again for years.”
“True.” He was quiet for a second.
“And I haven’t exactly brought it up.”
“Because?” Before I could answer, he added, “You worried you’re wrong, and it wasn’t her? Or are you afraid she’ll think you’re nuts for remembering when she didn’t?”
“Maybe both,” I confessed as I parked near the club owned by Sebastian and his sister. Anytime I considered bringing up Vegas, I couldn’t get the bloody words out for some reason. “But last night I alluded to something about that night while we were arguing, and—”
“Why were you arguing?”
&
nbsp; I hadn’t had a conversation like this with my brother in a long time. We were close, but we didn’t talk about our love life or lack thereof in my case. I needed someone to talk to, though. I’d normally open up to Holly, but I didn’t want her repeating any of this to her husband.
“Rule number one of The League.” Among other reasons that we can’t be together.
“Oh.” His mouth rounded, and he nodded in understanding.
“I mentioned something from our conversation in Vegas, though, and her face . . . she had a reaction. A spark of a memory, maybe. If she didn’t remember before, maybe she does now.”
“And what does that mean?”
“Shite.” I dragged a palm down my face, then turned off the car. “Probably nothing because she’s stubborn. Emilia is practically pushing me to be the man I was before I became League.”
“A playboy?” His brows slanted in confusion for a moment, and I shrugged. I still wasn’t buying what Emilia was trying to sell.
“No offense, brother, but you’ve never been a one-woman kind of guy.” He set a hand over my shoulder. “And if this woman has you messed up like this, well, that has to mean something. I’ve seen the chemistry between you two whenever she’s around. It’s not something you should ignore.” He paused. “And like you said, maybe it’s fate she’s back in your life. Screw the rules.”
“I want what you have,” I admitted aloud for the first time in my life. “I just don’t think Emilia does.” At least not with me.
“Only one way to find out. And you’re more like me than you think, which means you’re not a quitter.”
Chapter Five
Sean
“McGregor?”
“Which one?” I asked as Adam and I turned to match the voice to a face. We were just outside the club, a few minutes before our meeting was to start.
A woman in a red jumper and black fitted trousers stood before us. Long, flowing blonde hair down past her breasts. Shite. I knew her, didn’t I?
Adam nudged me, letting me know he was heading inside. He nodded goodbye to the blonde and walked around her to get to the club entrance. “See you in there.”
Great, thanks for leaving me. I’d get in a few cheap shots at the gym next time we sparred for that. “Hey.” A lame response, but I was coming up short on a name.
The blonde set a hand to my chest like she felt it belonged there. And of fecking course, Emilia would arrive with Cole and Alessia while I was standing out front with a blonde.
“Sean,” Cole greeted me, but I was too busy following Emilia’s gaze as it swept over the blonde before she strode past me, leaving a cold chill in her wake.
And hell, maybe there was a way to get Emilia to open up and stop hiding her feelings. To stop hiding behind League rules.
Make her jealous?
But I hated games. Hated the idea of resorting to that kind of shite. I’d told myself, well, more accurately, Emilia, that I’d do as she’d asked and give up. But Adam was right about me. I wasn’t exactly a quitter.
“Be in soon,” I told Cole and sent a smile Alessia’s way. Emilia, on the other hand, had already disappeared inside the club.
“How are you?” The blonde’s glossy lips pursed, and she lifted her palm from my chest, suddenly seeming to register the fact I didn’t have a damn clue who in the hell she was.
I hid my hands in my trouser pockets. “I’m sorry. I don’t remember you,” I admitted sheepishly.
Her sultry expression softened into one of disappointment. Had I upset her?
“If we slept together and I ghosted you after, I apologize.” Being League leader meant it was time I started owning my past transgressions. “I assume it was years ago, though.” Because I’ve changed.
“Wow. Okay.” She threaded her pink-painted nails through her long locks. “We, um, didn’t have a one-night stand. We dated for a few months while we were getting our MBAs at Trinity.”
Her definition of dating and mine were clearly different. As far as I could remember, I’d never dated anyone. Back then, my flat was considered a revolving door for random women I’d screwed.
Feck. I’d been more of an arsehole in the old days than I’d realized. “Sara,” I said as the memory hit me. Yeah, she was more like a friend with benefits in college than a girlfriend, but why split hairs now? “Been a long time.”
“It has.” Sara reached into her purse and handed me a business card. “I’m putting that MBA of mine to good use now.”
“You own a lingerie store?” I examined the address. Grafton Street. Must have been a hell of a business to score that location.
“A few, actually. Here in Dublin. London. New York. We carry some of the best brands in the world.” She smiled, clearly proud, as she should be. “I rotate between locations to make sure everything is running smoothly.”
“That’s amazing. Congratulations.”
“You should come by. I mean, if you have a special someone in your life to shop for.”
Someone special, huh? I’d love nothing more than to buy lingerie for Emilia. “Thanks. Maybe.” I stood awkwardly, not sure what else to say. “Well, it was good seeing you. Congrats on the store.” I turned to the side, my attention moving to the club.
“Sean?”
“Yeah?” I pivoted around to face her.
“I, um.” Her lips slammed shut and tightened into a smile before she said, “See you around, McGregor.”
“Take care, Sara.” I nodded and pocketed her business card. For a split second, as I watched her fire-red heels click down the street, I considered asking Sara out on a date. Get back at Emilia and make her jealous. But I quickly dismissed the idea. You hate those kinds of games, remember? I shook my head at my stupidity and then went inside the club to face the music.
Sebastian, Cole, Alessia, and Adam were seated in a lounge area not far from the main bar, but Emilia was nowhere in sight. It was always strange being at the club when the place wasn’t open, and I didn’t have to yell over booming music.
My sister celebrated her twenty-first birthday here years ago, and little did we know that same night Sebastian and Alessia were upstairs purchasing the club. Sebastian told Holly he’d seen her that night, too. The man’s obsession for Holly was about on par with whatever I felt for Emilia. I’d never admit that to him, though.
Sebastian was once known as a devil among men in our city, but I still liked to poke fun and make a Batman jibe here and there, completely ignoring the fact I was now a billionaire vigilante as well. My sister loved to tease me that I looked like the Green Arrow character on TV. But I didn’t wear green or carry a bow. No, that was Emilia with the bow. Of course, Emilia had always joined in on the joking and countered Holly’s claim that I reminded her of some actor who fought paranormal beings. Jenson something? I disagreed with everyone, especially since they were trying to get a rise out of me. But . . . shite, where the hell is my head right now?
I squeezed my temples and got my feet moving, circling the long length of the bar to spot Emilia crouching to grab the stash of whiskey we kept hidden for our meetings. Everyone who worked the bar knew not to touch the Glendalough 25-Year-Old single malt Irish whiskey in that cabinet. Sebastian was a bit of a whiskey expert, and he’d often bring out different brands for us to taste test.
Emilia slowly rose, meeting my eyes in the process.
She’d already removed her overcoat, and I was surprised by her look this evening. Dark skinny jeans, gray running shoes, and an oversized gray Oxford jumper—not how she normally dressed, but she was just as stunning. And now that I was standing right in front of her, I realized she wasn’t wearing any makeup.
Emilia’s lashes were naturally dark, and her long black hair hung in soft waves, framing her face and highlighting her big, brown eyes. Gorgeous was a seriously inadequate description of this woman. I’d need to consult a few love poems to find something that would do her justice. Maybe Pablo Neruda. My sister was a big fan of his poetry. Whenever she had a crush
on some bloke in her teenage years, she’d go around reading Pablo’s love poems.
No makeup needed, but I was fairly certain I’d never seen Emilia like this before. So exposed.
“Hi.” She kept hold of the whiskey bottle as her eyes fixed on my pocket like she had X-ray vision and knew I had Sara’s number there.
I set a hand to the bar top at my side. “Hi.” Seeing her without makeup and not all dressed up had me picturing her wearing only my tee, spending a lazy Sunday lounging around my flat.
“I was in London. Just got back from the airport. I didn’t want to be noticed,” she casually said and went for a circular cocktail tray.
I caught a whiff of her perfume when she reached across me for some glasses. It was the only scent she ever wore, and it seemed to be a sharp contrast to her personality. At least, the side of herself she let us all see.
Her gentle flowery fragrance floated to my nose before she stepped back, setting the glasses on the tray. Holly had once asked her about the perfume she wore. Chanel No. 5. Always.
“You didn’t mention you’d be going to London.” Our hands brushed when I went for the tray, and she stilled and regarded me with an apologetic pair of beautiful eyes.
“Vegas,” she mouthed, blindsiding me with a single word. And then she doubled down. “I’m sorry.”
I hardly knew what to make of the words she chose to hit me with tonight. Here of all places. You’re sorry? For what exactly? For forgetting? I removed my hand from the tray, a bit off guard, and she walked past me without another word.
I set both palms to the bar top and bowed my head, reeling from that moment.
I had to gather my fecking wits. I took a shot from the closest bottle of whiskey I could find with my back turned to the group, then one more, before I allowed myself to join everyone.
Emilia had her focus on the floor as I approached, and there was a vulnerability present I hadn’t expected. Maybe it was the fact she’d stripped herself of her leather and red lipstick or the way she’d whispered sorry in such a quick, confusing way. Or, hell, I was grasping at straws. Looking for meaning in anything and everything when it came to this woman who did her best to shield her emotions.
The Final Hour (Dublin Nights Book 5) Page 7
