According to my great-grandfather, we were actually related to Mary, Queen of Scots, same as Queen Elizabeth the second, but I doubted the royal family would be inviting us for the holidays anytime soon.
“Down that way is the Palace of Holyroodhouse,” my driver said, his Scottish brogue much thicker than my Irish. He pointed out his window in the direction of the royal palace, too far away for me to get a clear view of the place.
“Did Mary, Queen of Scots, live there?”
“Aye,” he answered. “Such a shame what happened to her. Beheaded by her cousin.”
Rivalries. They were complicated. I understood them now. “But hadn’t Mary been plotting to murder Elizabeth?” I did my best to remember the stories passed down to us from Ma’s grandfather.
“Ah, maybe the historians lied. Ya never know with those bloody Brits.” A hearty laugh met my ears. “Kidding. Kidding.”
Sure you are. There was no official League leader in Scotland, but Adam had joked once or twice that one of us ought to do it with our familial connection to the country. I wasn’t sure how that’d play out in the handbook of power. And I had no intention of moving away from Ireland unless it was to go to . . .
I sheared the word Italy from my thoughts, not allowing myself to continue down that road again.
When Emilia had told me about Chanel, I wanted to ask how the daughters of rival families had come to be friends, but my impression of Emilia from ten years ago told me that she probably lived outside the rules, or at the very least skirted them.
Maybe she would’ve ignored League rules once upon a time, but she wouldn’t do it now, although sex might be the exception, I supposed. And she had her father’s wishes to consider as well. Emilia partially opening up to me and sharing her story didn’t erase her promise, but it did make me painfully aware that there would never be an “us.”
As surprising as the evening in Emilia’s hotel room had been, the second part of the night, dealing with Sara’s attacker, had been more shocking. A complete blow to my system.
Because of Ethan’s girlfriend, he was now possibly entangled with The Alliance. And I didn’t have a fecking clue whether it was a coincidence or not, and not being able to get a read on Sara left me feeling twitchy.
Adam and Cole were supposed to keep an eye on Ethan to make sure he didn’t do anything crazy in the name of love. According to Ethan, Sara paid off her debt today, though I hadn’t yet been able to confirm the transfer since I’d been traveling. But apparently, her contact said Krause wanted another two hundred and fifty thousand since the man he’d sent to collect the money last night mysteriously disappeared in Dublin.
I’d begrudgingly told my brother to pay, hating that any of our money was going into Alliance hands, but what choice did I have? I needed to get them off Sara’s back and keep my brother out of the line of fire. Thankfully, Ethan wasn’t like Adam or me, and he wouldn’t track down Krause and go swinging in the name of revenge for what happened to Sara.
Well, I bloody hoped not. I had to believe Adam and Cole would make sure of that, at least.
I sent a quick text to Cole, and he immediately responded.
Cole: No, the guy is still unconscious. You did a number on him, cuz. Let you know when he wakes.
I wanted to hear the other side of Sara’s story, even if it was from the guy who showed up to collect from her last night.
I stowed my mobile as my driver pulled up in front of the hotel. After checking in and walking through what felt like a tunnel of Christmas with the decorations exploding all over the place, I took the stairs to the fourth floor and opened my suite to find Emilia waiting for me on the couch sipping champagne.
Well, a blonde Emilia was there. “Blonde? Really?”
I let go of the handle of my luggage but kept the garment bag draped over my arm.
She lowered the crystal flute, uncrossed her legs, and stood. “I’m your plus-one tonight, and I’d prefer no one recognize me. Red hair wouldn’t look good with this dress, so I had no choice. I wasn’t trying to give you a hard time.” She actually came across as sincere, her tone soft. “Chanel used to quote Coco all the time.” Her eyes moved to the flute. “The night she died, she said, ‘I only drink champagne on two occasions, when I am in love and when I am not.’” A small, sad smile touched her red lips.
Interpreting her words was like trying to understand the lines in Hamlet or Macbeth. Stars, hide your fires; Let not light see my black and deep desires. The Macbeth quote popped into my head, and Ma would be proud I’d remembered. Her love for literature was about the same as my father’s love for the family business.
I bought myself some time to think about how to react to Emilia’s radiant presence and discarded my garment bag in the hall closet.
“And I guess you’re drinking champagne because you’re not in love,” I finally interpreted her words, not a damn clue if I was right or not.
She strode toward me in a red and black dress that hugged her curves and stopped just above her knees. Although the neckline rose to slightly below her clavicle, a section of sheer black material plunged down the front in a V shape, revealing a hint of cleavage.
Black strappy heels showed off her long, tan legs, and I did my best not to allow my gaze to linger too long on her shapely body.
Eyes up top, Romeo.
Great. Another tragedy I didn’t want to compare my life to. And yet, Mercutio’s line from Romeo and Juliet, A plague o’ both your houses, now sat in my head. Maybe that was more fitting.
“You okay, Clooney?”
. . . And she went there. She couldn’t have been reading my thoughts because who thinks about Shakespeare in a moment like this? Who other than me, that is. But I’m sure the expression on my face was a clear indication that I was back in Vegas, crushing my mouth to hers with fierce intensity.
“Take off the wig,” I rasped, my voice dropping lower. The words probably came out like a command, but I loved her natural, dark waves that normally hung to her breasts.
“Excuse me?”
Her body was stunning, but her face was the showstopper for me. Her delicately shaped oval face, tan skin, dark slanted brows atop gorgeous brown eyes all combined to make her an exquisite beauty. And those full lips . . . plump and begging to be kissed. When she graced me with a smile, I was done.
“We’re not in public, and I want to see you. The real you.”
“Too many bobby pins.” She ate up the remaining space between us since I’d yet to budge. I was too distracted with committing the vision of her in this dress to memory for when I was alone later.
“You’re beautiful.” It dawned on me that I never said as much despite thinking it every time I looked at her.
Her white teeth were but a quick gift as she flashed a fleeting smile.
“How’s the wound?” I focused my gaze on her hip. Damn woman, stubbornly going against a bunch of criminals on her own as if she had superpowers.
“Nothing a little ibuprofen and champagne can’t fix.” Her mouth briefly tightened. “Cole told me what happened last night. Do you buy Sara’s story? If the banks wouldn’t lend her the money, she’s either naïve or ignorant to believe someone like Krause would fork over that kind of cash without some major strings attached. And that makes me wonder if she knows more about the Krause family than she let on. Plus, she’s now dating your brother and called him for the last-minute save. And Sara said her attacker was waiting for Ethan. If that’s true, why’d he let you get the jump on him? Wouldn’t you think he would have been in a less compromising position, say, with his back not to the door?”
“You suggesting she might work for The Alliance?” I had my concerns but using my brother as a means to infiltrate our family as a spy for Peter Krause hadn’t been one of them. I may not have remembered dating Sara until she reminded me since it felt like an eternity ago, even before I met Emilia in Vegas, but she didn’t seem like a master manipulator.
Although, I did find it interestin
g I hadn’t remembered Sara, but less than an hour with Emilia in Vegas ten years ago, and every moment was stitched into my mind like it’d happened yesterday.
“I have someone checking into her story, but I just think it’s highly suspicious that we happen to be targeting the very people who helped her with a loan. Don’t you?”
I stroked my jaw, unsure of what to think. Women like Sara didn’t involve themselves with criminals, did they? She may have been desperate to save her stores, believing a model she trusted could help her. Naïve was more probable.
“You’re a League leader now, Sean. You have to be able to look at situations objectively, cut emotion out of the equation completely.” A look of annoyance I had no clue how to interpret crossed her face. “But I can tell you still trust her. Okay, let’s say she did get a proper loan from Krause, but then he added some new terms to the deal when he discovered she was dating Ethan. Such as requiring her to infiltrate your family and feed The Alliance information. What if we’re attempting to make a play on Peter, and he’s doing the same to us?”
“And what if she hadn’t met Ethan yet?”
“Then they instructed her to target him.” Emilia folded her arms across her chest, clutching her glass of champagne to her bare arms.
“Why not choose me as the target if that was the case? We have a history and—”
“So,” Emilia began around an uncomfortable swallow, “you did sleep together.”
“In college,” I grumbled. “And the point is, I’m single and living in Dublin, and Ethan is younger and in New York. He’s also not League. Going directly after me would be the more obvious play.”
“Which is why they wouldn’t do it,” she pointed out. “Too obvious.”
I didn’t want to see my brother hurt, but she was right, we had to be cautious. “Alright, then let’s figure out why they sent someone after her last night to collect if she was using Ethan.”
Her mouth pinched, her thoughts whirling. Calculating possibilities. “Where is Sara now? Ethan?” she asked instead of answering, and maybe it was because she didn’t have one.
She spun on her heels and moved to the window overlooking the industrial building across the way where she’d planned to set up later while I attempted to flirt my way into Bridgette’s hotel room.
“Sebastian has Ethan and Sara staying at the hotel. The second penthouse on your floor. They’ll be safe there if Krause isn’t finished with her yet.” I couldn’t stomach the idea of anything happening to my brother.
“Well, there’s our answer.”
I drew my hands to my hips. “Sara is now closer to The League. Under our protection. Feels a little too much like a Trojan horse to me.”
Emilia was brilliant. And entirely too suspect of everyone.
“We’ll look into her,” I agreed. “Cole is also watching over the guy who showed up to collect the money from Sara last night. As soon as he regains consciousness, he’ll question him.”
“And you paid Sara’s debt, right?” she asked, still looking out the window.
I cringed at the thought, and I was half waiting for her to tell me how that was a bloody stupid idea. “Yes.” I crossed the room to join her.
“I assume you traced the transfer?”
“Of course.” I was offended she’d even asked. I pulled out my mobile to confirm Ethan’s information. “Money is sitting in an account in Germany. No name in the bank’s system.”
“We can have the account monitored in case someone shows up to make a withdrawal.”
“Already on it.”
“And why didn’t you call and tell me what happened last night?” she asked, her tone slightly strained. And maybe this was why her mood was foul about the subject. Less to do with Sara and more to do with feeling betrayed because I didn’t call her up. “Why’d I hear about it from Sebastian? You spoke to everyone but me.”
I did my best not to guffaw or huff out a heavy breath of Are you kidding?
Her shoulders betrayed the slightest hint of disappointment that I narrowly picked up on. Emilia was a pro at hiding her emotions, but I was beginning to wonder if my ability to read her every so often had less to do with League training and more to do with the fact she was letting her guard down a bit, allowing herself to be more vulnerable around me lately. Whether she meant for it to happen or not. A guy could hope, at least. “We’re still partners, Sean. We need to work together. No secrets.”
“I knew Sebastian would tell you. I’m not the one keeping secrets.” I shook my head. This wasn’t the time or place to get into round two of last night’s standoff. Quarrel? Misunderstanding? Feck if I knew what it was.
We may have officially closed the chapter on “more” happening between us, but we’d yet to rule out the possibility of no-strings sex, and that unanswered question lingered in the air between us.
“I don’t want things to be awkward.”
“Kind of late for that, don’t you think? Plus, why do I get the feeling Emilia Calibrisi doesn’t do awkward?” Damn it. I’d told myself to let the anger I was harboring about our situation go. It wasn’t her fault. “I’m sorry. This isn’t easy for me. But I do need to get ready.”
She sent a curt nod my way. The type of nod you’d give a commanding officer. “I’ll wait out here.”
I grabbed my luggage and started for the bedroom before tossing a look at her from over my shoulder. “By the way, how’d you get in here?”
She lifted the hem of her dress, revealing a key card strapped to her outer thigh and a knife on the inside. “I got my hands on a universal key for all rooms here.”
“Of course you did.” I disappeared into my room, quietly shut the door behind me, and let go of my bag.
Once in the shower, I kept the water cold. It felt good on my flushed skin. Cooled off my temper. Prevented my dick from getting hard so that I didn’t give in to the urge to jack off to thoughts of Emilia while she was in the other room.
But then my carefully placed mental snapshots of her in that dress circled front and center in my mind.
One hand went to the tiled wall beneath the spray as I bowed my head and closed my eyes. I ran my fingers along the length of my rigid cock as it came to life with thoughts of what was under that dress she had on. I had a feeling it wouldn’t be nude “knickers” tonight.
No, something red or black. Lacy and see-through. Sexy as feck.
And before I knew it, I was fisting my cock.
Beating off.
Blowing my load in the shower and grunting while she sat in the other room.
And my inability to let this woman go meant only one thing—sex with no strings was back on the table for me. Screw the pain of what would happen after. Maybe I deserved the pain.
Because I had to have her.
Tonight.
Chapter Nine
Emilia
I gritted my teeth every time a runway model strutted in front of us. They didn’t have angel wings on their backs like at Victoria’s Secret shows, but the models were dolled up like walking Barbies in lingerie. They left a trail of sequins and glitter with every stride, too. The plus side to this show? The designers actually had models that represented women of all sizes.
The hotel ballroom had been transformed to accommodate the event—rows of white chairs along each side of the silver platform runway and chairs at the end as well. The lights overhead were bright enough to illuminate the event without giving you a headache, house music played over speakers, and I’d swear each model managed to time her walk perfectly to the beats.
I crossed my legs, noticing Sean’s gaze zero in on my bare skin for a brief moment, and I elbowed him as a reminder to keep his focus on the models and, when the time came, Bridgette.
Despite months of rejecting the idea there could ever be an us, I’d opened the door for sex.
I’d once believed our demarcation zone was permanently set. Unmovable.
But all it took was being alone with him last night for my wall
s to begin crumbling when I shared what happened in Vegas.
Something had officially changed between us. Last night, he’d left my suite with uncertainty in his eyes. But this afternoon when he entered the living room after his shower, wearing only a towel, his decision was clear.
I’d mentally willed that towel to slip, which was sadly not a superpower I possessed. But with his wet hair slicked back and droplets of water clinging to his powerful chest, he looked like a veritable Adonis. Although, in my opinion, Sean rivaled the Greek god’s beauty. And now he had me waxing poetic about Greek gods.
That kiss of ours over twenty months ago had been heated. I’d torn off his shirt. Felt his hard length press against me, so I knew he was impressive in size.
Tonight, I’d wanted nothing more than to skip the fashion show and lick the water from his skin. Drop to my knees and take him in my mouth.
Hear the words fall gruffly from his lips—I’ll take whatever you’ll give me. If that’s no-strings sex, then yes. Just sex.
Of course, those stuffy old League leaders who predated the likes of Sebastian and myself had to be dicks when they wrote rule number one. In addition to prohibiting marriage between League families, even straight-up sex was forbidden. Maybe they had the right to determine who could marry whom, but my sex life? No, I wouldn’t let a group of men tell me who I could sleep with.
And like Papà, I was unable to resist the lure of the forbidden. The apple didn’t fall far from the tree in that regard.
Nevertheless, there was work to be done, and work had to come first. That was my life. I’d been born into the role.
“She’s coming out,” I said, leaning closer to Sean as Bridgette stepped onto the runway from behind two silky blue curtains. I reached for his palm and set it on my exposed thigh just below the hem of my dress to establish we were there together. The Tag Heuer on his wrist moved into sight when the fabric of his jacket sleeve shifted. I recognized the watch as an automatic chronograph, almost the exact one I gave Papà at Christmas the year before he died. The only difference was that Sean’s lacked the bezel made of yellow gold. I didn’t take Sean for a man who wore gold jewelry.
The Final Hour (Dublin Nights Book 5) Page 12
