Lies & Secrets (Boston Latte Book 1)

by Fiona Keane

  “Here.” He straightened from sorting its contents, approaching me with the same blanket I snuggled into a few nights ago. “No movie this time.”

  “You have such a delectable sense of humor,” I mocked, taking the blanket from him. “And to think I hated you all of this time.”

  I opened the fabric, allowing it to drape around my body from behind, tightening its ends across my chest while dropping onto the couch across from Julian. He reached over the coffee table to remove the cork, his laughter blossoming between us in a slow, smooth rumble that softened my paranoia. The gurgle of pouring wine was a comforting sound, reminding me there was more to enjoy in that moment other than how handsome Julian happened to be. Pretty psycho. He extended his left arm toward me, passing an overflowing glass of cold Riesling across the sofa.

  “I’m glad that emotion is in the past tense.” He grinned, his smile beaming with radiance that I actually felt. “Cheers to a fresh start.”

  “You’re deathly mistaken, Mr. Molloy.” I took the wine, clinking it with his raised glass. “I still despise you. Very much so, but I owe you a favor for saving my life—”

  “Three times.”

  I rolled my eyes, irritated at his reminder. “I owe you one favor for the one most recent time you actually saved my life. I’ll pretend to be whatever it is you expect of me on the outside, but you absolutely cannot, under any circumstances, continue to believe you control my world and my life. Do I make myself clear?”

  “You’re quite bossy, babby. Is that why you don’t have a husband and three children?” Julian’s lips widened above his wine glass while he sipped, filling my core with rage.

  “I’m a nothing,” I mocked him, my eyes narrowing with annoyance while I took another sip. This shit is delicious. It must have cost at least a hundred dollars. Oh, sweetness. I want to make out with this bottle.

  “You’re everything, Aideen,” he defied my mockery, his grin remaining while those eyes, the perfectly round reminders of his history, burned into me.

  “You can’t say that to me when we aren’t in public,” I warned. “Please.”

  “I’ll try to honor that command.” He winked at me, bending toward the coffee table to refill his glass. “Now, shall we? There are a lot of things we need to talk about.”

  “I’m all ears, Molloy.” I set my wine glass between my knees, lifting my eyes to Julian expectantly. “Why are you suddenly so patient? One minute you tie me up, the next you kidnap me, you make me be your girlfriend on the outside to protect your image…”

  “…and the next, I’m saving your life,” his voice raised, a passionate response that stopped my ramble. “I know a lot that you don’t know, Aideen, about many things. I am curious, though. How long had you known Elliott Daly before you went into the hospital? College, right? Ten years?”

  “Yes.” My brows met. “How did you know that?”

  “A guess on how long you’ve known each other.” He shrugged. “Elliott mentioned the hospital once we were initiating our deal.” It was so not a guess. What did he know?

  “Go on.” Julian finished his second glass, placing it on the coffee table before turning on the couch so our bodies were facing one another, his feet lifting to rest against the middle cushion. Too close to mine. I’m too damn ticklish.

  “Elliott Daly has done more damage to your life than you are even aware of, Aideen. Your coffee shop, for example.” Julian paused to scratch the stubble forming along his jaw. “It’s been watched by the Feds and some quite inhumane people for over a year.” Um. What?

  “You expect me to trust you?”

  “I expect you to want to live.” How are my life and trusting this criminal intertwined?

  “This is a game,” I objected. “This isn’t true. You’re a liar. You’re insane. Literally, clinically, and absolutely insane.”

  “I’m not.” His voice was calm. “Let me finish and we can see what you think of me, of Elliott, of all of this.” His hands raised, hoping to calm the lioness preparing to shred the gorgeous man across from her.

  “Where is Elliott, Aideen?”

  “I don’t fucking care.”

  His eyebrows lifted incredulously. “Where is he?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t care.”

  “When did he leave?”

  “Jesus! The questions! You’re supposed to be giving me answers, telling me what the hell I’m doing here, again, on your couch.”

  He shrugged, a gentle smile flashing along his lips before it disappeared. “I like having you here. You’re safe with me. Maybe I haven’t made myself clear enough yet, but Aideen, I don’t want you to die. Elliott’s been watched by the Feds since last New Year’s because he was a snitch for the Byrne cartel in Southie. He was busted trying to sell drugs with his cousin, Malcolm, the same slimy fucker who tried to kill you twice within the last month.” What. The. Hell? He must be insane to think I would believe this story. Elliott was normal; he had a puppy and he watched soap operas. He was obsessed with watching people walk around downtown Boston, he loved running in the park late at night, and he was my best friend. I felt the blood leave my face, my nose numb.

  “He ratted out some lowlife front-man from another family who lent him money. This front-man, William O’Connor, he’s a shark. He was planning on taking out some significant people in the Byrne family, but once your best friend ratted him out to the Byrnes, he won their loyalty. You probably don’t know how close Elliott and Malcolm actually are, do you?” I could barely shake my head in reply.

  “Elliott wasn’t always this bad,” he continued nonchalantly, destroying every piece of the last ten years of my life. “He was a good friend to you. But introducing you to Malcolm wasn’t a mistake. You inherited some money when your dad passed away.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Public record.”

  “But still…” Stalker. Julian’s neck rolled around, stretching both sides before he continued, ending my anticipation. He divulged enough information to make my head spin, my heart weary.

  “I’m going to tell you the truth, Aideen.” His brow lifted, his expression softening to reassure me of his intentions. “Elliott and Malcolm have been in on this from the beginning. Your dad passed, you inherited fifty thousand dollars, Elliott and Malcolm were in trouble with sharks in Southie, and they needed your money.”

  “I don’t even have it,” I informed him. “It’s locked away in trust until I’m thirty-five.”

  “They didn’t know that,” he replied, an agonizing sigh rippling from his chest. “They just knew you had money because you’d given what you already had in savings after law school to your coffee shop. They wanted your money to repay their sharks.”

  “That’s where you came in.”

  “That’s where I came in.” He nodded, the pieces of his puzzle slowly falling into place. He watched me, waiting for my next move, probably assuming I would jump over the couch and strangle him. Yet I was paralyzed. The smell of his cologne, the softness of that stupid blanket, and the bubbling wine all rendered me useless. Oh, and the fact he just told me the shittiest shit about my best friend.

  “Wait.” I closed my eyes, hoping to gather my thoughts. “How do you know all of this mob stuff?”

  “My grandfather is responsible for some crucial racketeering legislation.” His response was quick, rehearsed, only his eyes reacting with movement.

  “That’s all?” I questioned, staring at him suspiciously. “You just tell me my life for the last few years has been a lie, just like that. Facts. Simple tidbits of information you held on to and omitted, yet you have tried to control my freedom for two weeks now. But that’s all? This must be how you conduct yourself. You lead people on, then tell them this twisted traumatic crap in an effort to earn their trust once you’ve ruined it by battering their souls against your rocks. That’s all, right? So, Grandpa Molloy has it all figured out because he’s, what, in with the Feds?”

  “In a sense, but the rest
of what you said is completely inaccurate. Please believe me.” His arm fell from the side of the couch as Julian turned to move toward me, leaning over my feet bound by the blanket.

  I scoffed, my temper beginning to boil. “In a sense? How does your grandpa know about the Feds watching my shop? And what the hell—are you actually serious right now? The Feds have been watching my shop for months and you knew this entire time?”

  “Yes. I have.” I was burning, fueling with rage, desiring only to smack the living daylights from Julian and leave an imprint of my puny little hand against his beautiful face. Oh, what the hell? I jumped from the couch, catching him off guard while he leaned toward where I sat. He was slow to adjust his body but quicker than I expected, while I lifted my hand into the air. Hit him. Hurt this beautiful jerk. I did. The burn of our skin colliding seared my palm, radiating throughout my hand and up the length of my arm. I felt it in my heart, the burning that spread from slapping his face with every ounce of strength I had within me. Hit him again. I did. Twice more before he flinched.

  “That was a mistake.” He bent forward to rise from the couch, his eyes darkening like the night sky, his long fingers separating from his reddened cheeks and reaching for me.

  Julian’s fingers tightened around my shoulders, forcing me in place despite my attempt to wiggle free from his tortuously warm grasp. His skin was hot, the calming flood of his warmth rushing through my shoulders and into my body. It was frightening, a wave, a rush, suffocation. I struggled to balance between the couch and coffee table, the sharp edge of which pressed into my calves as we teetered.

  Julian whispered my name, his hands tightly adhering my shoulders to him. They melted into sopping pools within his grasp, like sand slipping from a castle along a violent shore. Elliott. How did he know all of this about Elliott? How could he keep so much from me in the last week alone, then vomit out this crap about my best friend? Ex-best friend. I hate this guy. I hate Julian Molloy. I hate his blue eyes, I hate his hair, I hate that arrogant smile, his stupid perfect teeth. I want to kill him. I want to kiss him. Kill! I want to KILL him. Oh, my brain. Stop looking at me like that. His brows met, pulling attention to his widened eyes burning with the emptiness observed before, haunted by more secrets to which I would never be privy. I don’t want to be. Yes, I do. No, I don’t.

  “Get off me,” I growled, nudging my right shoulder free, bumping it against his chest. Now that was a mistake. He smells so lovely, sweet, bold, spicy, and…what is he doing? Both of his hands curled into fists, lifting to my cheeks. They pulled along my face in a slow, gentle graze before dropping against my shoulders and stopping beneath my ears. No. Not the ears. My eyes raced, searching his face in a frantic tension, looking for a key to my escape, a loophole or distraction. Our bodies touched, my chest against his, our hips in contact.

  “Please don’t hit me like that, Aideen,” he whispered, his face leaning toward mine, his lips sizzling the air around my left ear while my body erupted with a tremble.

  “I think, for once, I’ll do what I please.” Shouldn’t have said that. I heard the parting of his mouth, surely stretching into a smile against my ear while his fists opened to hold my neck. His hands gracefully wrapped around my throat, their hold delicate, and I regretted each word I just said.

  “Me too,” Julian breathed, his words whispered into the sensitized skin of my neck before I felt my body disorient. His lips were warm, leaving a trail of slow, deliberate kisses before his mouth pulled away. Paralyzed. Can. Not. Move. Breathe. I stared at the fabric stretched taut against his body, reminding my heart to pump blood as my brain numbed. It feels…good. Julian’s hands roamed from my neck into my hair, tightening around the base of my skull and lifting my face to his. I want to kill him. Kiss him. I want to kiss him.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Free from his hold, I lifted both fists to his muscular chest and shoved, catching him off guard. His hands were quick to drop from my face, wrapping around my waist before we both fell onto the floor between the couch and coffee table. His hands. My hands. Hair. Neck. Tongue. Skin. Dying. Alive. He was beneath me, held prisoner by my legs wrapped around his hips. Julian’s knuckles dug into my scalp while he pulled my face against his, filling my mouth with his dangerously invasive tongue. I didn’t know where to place my hands—I wanted to keep punching him, slapping his gloating grin from that handsome face, but I was mush. I was destroyed, renewed, desperate, and wanting. One hand held my head against his while the other roamed along my side, tickling with his touch before his palm spread along my hip, restraining me as I restrained him.

  “Aideen.” His voice was my undoing; his threat, a promise. I can’t do this. Yet I did it. I kissed Julian Molloy, punishing myself for my guilt, sadness, and confusion. It was incredible. I allowed him to provide that for me, while he gave the intoxicating, destructive feeling within me for which my heart screamed. Wanting. His word. His plan.

  Julian’s lips attacked my neck with their delicately violent suction and kisses. How did wanting to kill him, needing to punch and completely eviscerate this man, turn into this? How did we end up on his floor spinning in a cloud of lust? His arms snaked around my back, pulling my stomach tightly against his. With one swift turn, while his lips pressed securely against mine, I was beneath Julian. His muscular build, the strength in his arms, imprisoned me. Air was no longer oxygen, but Julian’s cologne. His sleeves were pulled back, reminding me of the cross I earlier touched. His face lifted from mine, eyes alive and full of color, a vibrant and vivid cerulean that sparkled with my reflection.

  “Ai—” He was silenced, rudely interrupted by the violent vibration of his cell phone within the pocket of his pants. I watched, curious as to his intentions. His eyes were fixed on mine, burning into my soul with their radiance, while he reached into his pocket and removed the phone. With an irritated groan, Julian scanned the screen and slowly pulled away from me. His strong thighs still bound me to the floor as his abdomen stretched upward while answering his phone.

  “Yes.” He listened to the receiver, his eyes flickering to mine with a small smile playing along his mouth while his thumb wiped his swollen bottom lip. “I am. I planned to. Now’s not…” His free hand tore away from my hip, rubbing against his forehead with irritation while he listened to our interloper. It’s for the best. I hate this man. Generally speaking.

  “No,” he continued, his voice laced with irritation, his eyes now drifted to his fireplace. “She is. Absolutely not. No. I’m not going to. No. Fine.”

  Once Julian disconnected his call, his fingers danced along the screen of his phone. My body cooled, opposing the heat of the fire and the memory of Julian left lingering along my skin. My lips burned, surely bruised, tingling with a comforting hum. I licked them repeatedly, hoping to savor the sensation. Julian stuffed his phone back into the pocket of his pants, his eyes still lost in the fire while mine were equally bewildered by him. The muscles of his jaw tensed, covered with a layer of unkempt stubble. I found myself wanting to hold his cheek, almost lifting to touch him before my mind snapped back to reality. This man was violent, threatening, and empowered with omissions. Yet I kissed him and let him kiss me. What had I done? My face tightened, contorting with confusion and an overwhelming juxtaposition of disgust and pleasure, my heart a wreck.

  “You,” Julian began, sucking in a heavy breath before his glance returned to mine. “Aideen…I—” Can this manipulative mastermind get out a complete thought? Please?

  “That was a mistake,” I muttered, twisting beneath him to be on my stomach so I could crawl out from under him. My bones shook, my heart rattling inside the cage of my ribs, threatening to break free as I trembled with angst. I held my breath as I crawled from beneath him and struggled to stand in the doorway, willing myself not to cry.

  Julian called after me, his voice demanding but gentle, almost…apologetic. It was a mistake. I turned to face him, clutching my body tightly as I chewed the inside of my cheek.

 
“You have just destroyed me.” I shook my head. “You can lock me away, threaten me, and try to control me for whatever else you’re keeping from me, but you should know that you’re a terrible man.”

  “Aideen, please,” Julian moved toward me, “it wasn’t a mistake, babby.”

  “Do not call me that.” I felt moisture swell in my eyes, threatening to lose composure in front of him. It didn’t matter. He saw me at my weakest, and now I deserved to show him my strength.

  “I have a right to know everything and, until you can do that, I’m not your pawn. I’ll play your game. I’ll be yours on the outside to protect your precious reputation and stay alive, but don’t think for one moment while within the prison of your palace that I will ever allow myself to fall victim to you again. You,” I inhaled a trembling breath, “took advantage of me.”

  “You took advantage of me,” he interjected, his hands outstretched in submission. “There were two mouths, Aideen, four hands, two bodies—” The front door unlatched, Liam’s voice quick to erupt in the foyer. I was thankful he arrived, hoping for an interruption so I could cry in privacy, but I didn’t want to see another Molloy.

  “Julian,” Liam hollered, his feet clapping along the hardwood. “You ready?”

  “You’re leaving,” I whispered to Julian, unsure of what else I expected from him, especially considering my heart and mind were terribly conflicted. His brows met, the darkened circles beneath meeting mine with concern. Are they telling me a truth he refuses to speak? His eyes alone were enough to communicate he swirled in the tornado of confusion with me, wanting and needing while entirely conflicted, all the while waiting in limbo as Liam entered the space.