Lies & Secrets (Boston Latte Book 1)

by Fiona Keane

  “Keep talking, Molloy.”

  “Can I do this while looking at you?”

  “You’ll need to break down your fancy bathroom door because I’m not going anywhere and you’re not coming in without my permission.” Julian didn’t respond, worrying me. Moments later, the doorknob wiggled, ticking with the sound of a key. A key? Still pressing my body against the ground, cowering like a child, I glanced up as Julian entered. The cuffs of his dress shirt were folded up again, displaying his powerful forearms and fleeting glimpses of his decorated skin. He quickly knelt at my side, concern masking his chiseled face, and reached for me.

  “Don’t touch me,” I warned. “I’ll be fine. You had a key this whole time?”

  “Of course I did. It’s my bathroom.” I scooted away from him, my back hitting the bathtub.

  Julian looked away, giving me nothing but his profile. Is he…blushing? His eyes infused with concern when they returned to mine. He crawled toward me on his knees before his palms reached for my face, delicately holding my cheeks in his possession. I didn’t know where to look, what to say, how to breathe anything but him.

  “You have every right to be angry with me.”

  “I didn’t sign your contract.”

  Julian’s fingertips pressed into my hair, and his right thumb caressed my cheek, while eyes of squinting blue gave way to the smile flirting with his façade. “I must trust you.”

  “I don’t do that,” Julian whispered, his hands dropping from my face. “So take that as a warning, if you will.” Oh, whew. I was worried the threats and intimidation subsided. Glad we’re back to normal around here.

  “I want to go home,” I grumbled as Julian stood and scoured through a basket on the counter. He turned to me, holding a folded towel and some clothes.

  “Take a bath. You’ll feel better. I’m going to sleep. And Aideen,” his grin returned, threatening me with the sparkle of his perfect teeth, “don’t try and kill me.”

  I flashed Julian two thumbs up, mocking him with a wide smile. Stupid, arrogant bastard. I will find a way. I sat against the bathtub while Julian went into his bedroom, flopping onto his mattress fully clothed. There is a god. I waited for him to snore or give me some sign of sleep, because I refused to move until I knew he couldn’t watch me.

  I think I ate half of my thumb while sitting on the bathroom floor, falling asleep against the side of his tub. He had to be sleeping by the time I stood up. My legs ached and cracked as I walked toward the bathroom door. Peering into the silent space, I noticed Julian lying at an angle across the top of his mattress. Bright, reflective light from the rising sun peered in through the ice-covered windows.

  I tiptoed into his bedroom, heart pounding through my ears with warning. Julian had a pillow over his face, allowing me full vision of his body, his gun-less body. Anyone else would have been mesmerized, enchanted by the strapping figure sleeping soundly inches from me. I could smother him to death. Where is his gun? I’ve shot a gun before. I could do it. Nobody would know and I could get a head start. I scanned his body, from his bare feet to the tattooed D on his wrist that was exposed while his arm pressed onto the pillow covering his face. He does have a pretty face. It’d be so sad to blow it apart. Oh my God. This isn’t me. I’m not like him. I don’t think those things. I studied the pillow, watching it slowly lift with his deep breaths. Maybe I could just suffocate him.

  I searched the space around Julian’s bed, my eyes caught with petrifying excitement by the silver greeting atop his nightstand. There it rested, the first tool of intimidation, simply waiting for my fingers to wrap around its trigger. Shaking my head, I turned from Julian’s bed. I’m not like this.

  I quickly tiptoed in retreat, reaching for the bedroom door when his voice stopped me. “Why? Why didn’t you kill me?” Julian tossed the pillow from his head and rested against his elbows, studying me in the doorway.

  “Because,” I swallowed, avoiding his gaze as I turned to him, “you trust me.” Arrogant dick. Because I’m not like you! I’m not a lying, kidnapping, secretive killer, Senator-wanna-be.

  “It’s a heavy burden. Isn’t it, Aideen? Trusting someone with your life.” His eyes glowed, hauntingly empty and full of a pulsating light that beckoned my soul.

  “Was that a test?” I spun around, crossing my arms defensively. “Another game?”

  Julian rolled onto his side, slowly lifting to sit at the foot of his mattress while motioning for me to come closer. I shook my head, stubbornly remaining in the doorway, keeping a distance from how ridiculously handsome he appeared disheveled and sleep-deprived.

  “I’m not playing games, Aideen,” he declared. “Trust isn’t given. It’s earned. And it comes with a price.”

  “So does knowing you, I gather. I’m leaving once this storm is over.” I left his bedroom as tears threatened my eyes once more, falling victim to the stress that small glimpse into Julian’s world caused me. What world? Politics? Ha. Get your head on straight. I was meant to open the coffee shop that morning. It doesn’t matter. For one, only crazies are marching through a blizzard for coffee, and two, I doubt that’s a priority of Julian’s right now.

  The living room was undisturbed, like a museum exhibit of my night on the couch, a time capsule. The box was on the coffee table, the stupid phone was on the floor, and the world’s most comfortable blanket was on the couch. Right where Julian left it when he carried me to his bed. Oh, Lord.

  I paced the living room, wrapped in the blanket, until my feet hurt. The fireplace was still burning, its blue and orange display again hypnotizing me. I sat there for at least an hour, lost in the glow, while my overwhelmed mind emptied. I only knew it was an hour because, true to the routine of waking up so early, my stomach rumbled like clockwork. I snapped from my daze when the fire stopped, its burning and warmth ceasing to exist. A shiver tore through me at the sound of padding bare feet behind me. I turned, almost losing consciousness.

  “Malcolm Young wants you dead, and I don’t,” Julian muttered, shrugging his broad shoulders while entering the living room. Oh, fuck. Lord, Jesus, Buddha. Just. No. Stop.

  “Why are you looking at me like that?” He laughed. Um…because you’re only wearing sweatpants and you’re gorgeous?

  “You need to put on some clothes.” I turned away, covering my face with the blanket. I heard Julian nestle into the couch behind me, clearly in no hurry to cover his bare abdomen. How many tattoos does he have? Holy shit. He has a cute belly but—STOP!

  “Turn around, Aideen.”

  “What do you want?” I snapped, following his direction with little patience.

  “Get used to it, babby.” He winked at me, biting his bottom lip. “You’re going to be seeing a lot of me in a variety of stages of attire if this blizzard continues.”

  “Which reminds me,” I sighed, spinning away from his heavy stare, “I need to get to work…and back to my real life.” I marched to the Irish-American beast and his fantastically well-defined body that melted my insides, wishing he was a repulsive bastard, and pointed my index finger at him.

  Julian leaned forward, officially turning my insides to mush, and kissed the tip of my pointed finger. That did it. I threw the blanket from my body and smothered Julian before I punched his abdomen as hard as I could muster.

  “Give it to me, Aideen,” he mocked, pulling the blanket from his face. “Let it out. You’re not going to kill me, just like I’m not going to kill you. The difference between us is that I also refuse to physically harm you. I would never hurt you. Trust me. But here you are, refusing every respectful thing I have done, and now you’re trying to beat me.” Julian’s hands locked around my head, pulling my face so I was leaning over his body.

  “What are the tallies for?” I kept my narrowed, wild eyes locked on his while he held me. I’d counted before swinging. His chiseled collarbone was gracefully adorned with tallies, reminders of something. Inside, despite wishing against it, I knew what those six marks meant. I don’t want to be
his seventh.

  “You’ve killed six people and you want me to trust you won’t do the same to me? You’re keeping me here, putting me off, telling me someone wants me dead, when the real murderer is you.

  “The Senate,” I scoffed, struggling to pull my head from his resilient grasp. “Tell me the truth. If you trust me, tell me.”

  “It’s not like that.” The glow around his eyes faded. “You’re on the edge with this. I regret letting you watch a fairytale last night. Your mind is a mess from it.” Wow.

  “I’m never speaking to you again.”

  “You’ll have to in public.” He mimicked my sneer. “Unless you want Malcolm to kill you. Which, again, Aideen, is something I do not want. Stop fighting me and just listen!” Julian didn’t flinch, remaining unfazed while my tears dribbled over his hands.

  “I never want to be the cause of your tears,” he muttered, releasing his hands from my face, slowly wiping my cheeks. His right hand combed through the mess of hair sticking to my jaw, gently placing it behind my ear while he examined my face. Julian’s palm stopped against my cheek, but this time his pressure was soft, supportive.

  “Right now, I can only ask that you trust me.” And there, I vowed not to speak to Julian Molloy until hell froze over and I began exercising for pleasure.

  Chapter Sixteen

  His voice startled me, breaking the silence I enjoyed while pretending I was on some balmy island, drinking margaritas.

  “I’ll drive you home,” Julian announced, stepping into the living room where I sat and ignored him for two hours. I deserved an award for that. The temptation to look at him, his body, his hair, or simply hear him, it was all so extreme. Freedom will be my reward.

  Without a second glance, I walked toward him. His demeanor was terrifyingly different than his banter on the phone last night. There was no longer the fake feeling of security in his possession, no longer a peculiar hint of comfort while with him. I managed to destroy the farce, revealing the bastard I imagined Julian Molloy to be. I didn’t know when the sleet stopped, but I couldn’t imagine after two days of blizzard, and more forecast until Tuesday, that the plows would have made a dent. I don’t care. I just hope my death in this impending car accident is swifter than Julian’s.

  “Your phone.” He handed the object to me as I attempted to fit between Julian and the doorway. Thank God he’s wearing clothes. I refused to accept the excessive reminder of his unwarranted authority. I went into the foyer, slipping on my shoes, and reached for the front door, tasting my freedom. Julian mumbled something under his minty breath, grabbing the knob before I could and opening the door.

  “By all means, Miss Leary, ladies first.”

  I kept my head down, but my eyes glared and rolled around so tightly in their sockets. Here we go again, hating this bastard because he is a shit. I followed Julian down the long hallway to the elevator, stepping far from his side while we waited for its arrival.

  “Keep this up in private all you want, although I wish you’d stop, but end it the moment we see anyone,” he demanded in a low growl. “Understood?”

  I rolled my eyes up to flinch at his incensed expression. The corner of my mouth lifted into an exaggerated, sneering smile. The doors opened, and he motioned for me to enter first. Right. Because I’m his lady. Barf. I hated sharing the small space with him, feeling like the walls were closing in on us and forcing our proximity to increase. It was getting really…hot. My heart pounded as we rode down to the lobby. Julian swung his keychain between his thumb and palm. Swing. Click. Hold. Swing. Click. Hold.

  “Mr. Molloy!” I looked up to see a woman ogling Julian once the elevator doors opened onto the lobby. Julian reached for my hand, intertwining our fingers. My eyes widened, alarmed at his gesture and warmth. His skin was soft, the subtle tickle of his thumb against my hand seemed genuine, almost familiar, like a song whose lyric you might recall but the memory of its melody betrays you. Go home, Aideen. You’re sleep deprived.

  “Good morning, Miss Abbott,” he replied sweetly. “Lovely to see you.”

  “You…” Her bright red smile only widened with challenge when she noticed our hands, realizing we were more than just companions on the elevator. “…too. Say, are you available soon for another drink?” I watched her right eyebrow, manicured beyond perfection, lift suggestively.

  “No.” He laughed, managing to be demeaning and polite at the same time. “My girlfriend and I have become quite the hermits. Haven’t we, darling?” Fine. I’ll play. Stupid bastard.

  “Can’t get out of bed.” I beamed, leaning against Julian. “Ever.”

  That Abbott broad was as flustered as could be, her eyes flickering between Julian and me. My hand throbbed with his tightening hold.

  “Oh. Um. Well…”

  “Have a lovely Sunday.” I smiled at her as she spun in a circle, knocking into Julian while trying to enter the elevator. I restrained my laughter, returning to the emotionless being I was in Julian’s company that morning.

  “Dammit, Aideen. As amazing as that sounds, you can’t say that to people.” Shrugging in defiance, I pulled my hand from Julian’s and crossed my arms.

  “You’re really not speaking to me,” he realized, shaking his head. “I can find ways to make you talk.” I shrugged again, looking away, already aware of his potential to torture. I’ll be his seventh. Julian approached me, his palms holding my weak biceps.

  “I have ways,” he assured me, “things you’ll hate…methods you’ll enjoy…I have ways.” I slowly nodded, a sarcastic acceptance, and rolled my eyes toward the exterior doors of the lobby. It was blindingly bright outside. I couldn’t see where the snow and street separated. Julian guided me toward the doors with his arm wrapped tightly around my shoulders, the same way by which we entered. Oh, so in love. I’m going to make him my first before I can be his seventh.

  A large black Range Rover idled along the sidewalk as we stepped into the storm. We were promptly approached by the doorman, who eagerly handed Julian an envelope. He smiled submissively at the man who held me, aware of Julian’s powerful reputation.

  “Get in, babby.” Julian nodded, releasing his hold and opening the passenger door. I looked up at his face, haunted by the exhaustion decorating his deep eyes. His head lowered, lips pressed against my ear, shivering my body more than the snow.

  “There are press to the right and across the street. Let me kiss you and then climb in.” I quickly shook my head, not wanting his lips any closer to my body. Even the air between our bodies burned. I didn’t want to know what it would feel like if he truly touched me. I looked over his shoulder, noticing three men with large cameras and separate flashes, observing us. I hate myself. With my eyes tightly closed, I lifted to my tiptoes, threw my arms around Julian’s neck, and nuzzled my head into his chest. He smells so unbelievable, I might die right here.

  “That’s better,” he murmured into my ear. His hands pressed into my hips, paralyzing everything below my waist. I rested against him, pretending for a moment he wasn’t a man who held me prisoner. Why aren’t I running? Why do I care about keeping his reputation sacred? Because he can keep me safe from Malcolm. Because Julian knows something I don’t. While keeping me safe from one demon, the devil became my ally, but I won’t ever be safe.

  “Aren’t you going to let go so I can drive you home, darling?” Julian hummed into my hair, tickling its deep sound throughout my mind with echoing waves of his cologne. I pulled away, looking once more at the press and silently screaming for them to save me, but then the thought vanished. While I nestled into the black leather seat, protected from the blustering wind and photographers, I realized I couldn’t scream for help. No matter what, or whom, or where, nobody would hear me. I kept my eyes focused on the windshield as Julian climbed into the car, rubbing his hands together before they molded perfectly around the wheel and gearshift. The SUV lurched to a start, growling over piles of unplowed snow. The heated seats and silence within the car were deceptively cal
ming.

  “Don’t go to work today,” his voice broke the silence, “please. I don’t beg. I’m telling you. It’s important to me that you don’t go to work today.”

  Everything was plastered in a heavy blanket of white. I doubted schools would be open. The streets were abandoned but for plows and some people shoveling outside of their buildings. He hadn’t blindfolded me. He trusts me.

  Julian gave up probing for a response. I planned my reward for silence during the entire ride to my apartment. I was going to open a bottle of wine, take the bath I desperately desired, and get so drunk that I could actually laugh about what happened. I’m not a big drinker, but I knew the moment I left Julian’s domain, his care, the unknown and vulnerability would settle in, and I was going to need some heavy medication to cope. Realizing the ride was, even in unplowed streets, significantly shorter than the twisty route by which I arrived at Julian’s, I studied street signs. I was ten blocks from my apartment the entire time. Ten blocks. I looked at him, my mouth beginning to gape with annoyance and rage. Don’t say something. Don’t break your promise to yourself.

  “Welcome back, neighbor.” Julian’s head turned toward me as he pulled against the curb outside of my building. “I’ll help you in.” I defiantly shook my head and tumbled from the car before he could make it around to my side.

  Julian called after me, but I already flew into the building. I was fueled by adrenaline and anger. I couldn’t feel my lungs move, and I didn’t care to check that I was actually breathing. Shit. I don’t have my key. It’s at work. I continued to climb the stairs, knowing I would at least be alive around my neighbors instead of returning to Julian outside. He was half-naked just hours ago, the image of his sweatpants burned into my memory. Make it stop! I whimpered as I reached the top of my stairs and clutched my pounding chest.

  “Miss Leary?” Yes! It’s me! I’m alive, and you see that I’m alive! My new neighbor, the adorable brunet stoner with the kind heart, opened his apartment door at the sound of my hurried, frantic steps.