Craving Control

by Kylie Hillman

“Five o’clock? Three nights time?”

  “Sounds great.” Maddi meets my eyes, an answering smile on her beautiful face. Her pupils dilate when I give her shoulder a gentle squeeze.

  It’s enough to put a spring in my step as I make my way around to the front of the house. My exit is halted when I hear Benji yelling. A shiver of triumph runs the length of my body while I listen to his meltdown. It’s a sweet feeling—I’m under his skin and there’s nothing he can do about.

  “Dad, you can’t let her go out with him. He’s bad fucking news. He goes through women like you wouldn’t believe. I won’t have my sister getting humped and dumped by some rich farmer’s asshole kid. You’re way too good for him, Mads.”

  I snort. I don’t know where that piece of trash gets off calling me “some farmer’s asshole kid”. My father is an eminent politician. The land we live on has been in my mother’s side of the family for six generations and is worth more money than some outlaw biker’s son could possibly comprehend. I’m too good for his family. He should shut his mouth and be thankful that his sister’s beauty is enough to entice me to slum it for once.

  “Oh, shut up, Benjamin.” Maddi’s angry voice carries over to me, echoing the thought in my head. “I’m not a slut like you. It’s one date. It mightn’t even go any further than that. It’s my choice if it does.”

  “I agree, baby girl,” Beast cuts off her rant. Even though there’s no one around to see my disagreement, I shake my head. They’re both mistaken if they think I’m backing off after one date.

  One date isn’t enough to taint her.

  One date isn’t enough to punish Benji.

  One date isn’t enough to ruin them all.

  Beast continues outlining his reasons why Benji shouldn’t be objecting. “She has a good head on her shoulders, which is more than I can say for you most of the fucking time. I’ve warned that kid that I'll fuck him up if he hurts her, and I know she’ll come to me if he fucks up in any way.”

  With each point my smile widens. The man is underestimating my desire to see his son ruined. The virtues he’s heaping on his daughter’s head might have been enough to ensure Maddi’s safety if she was dealing with anyone but a Taylor.

  My dad, Thomas Taylor, is the law that runs this state. Everything that happens in Queensland does so with his blessing. His police force owns the roads that Beast’s biker gang travels.

  Hell, he controls everything that Beast’s motorcycle club touches in this state.

  I’m not quite as powerful just yet. Not that it matters right now. When the time comes, I’ll have everything I need. Just like my father did when he was ready to pounce.

  Whereas Benji will one day replace his father’s position in their family with mutual agreement and past precedent, I will annihilate my parents before I take their place. That’s how my family works. One generation must fail for the next to step up. This makes me more dangerous than any of the O’Brien’s already.

  For now, my father has needs that are much bigger than mine, so he wields his power like a sword—out in the open with his intention to attack telegraphed loud and clear. I’m more like a dagger. Stealthy, secretive, and prepared to take you out in silence. Where my dad wants to destroy everything that the Black Shamrocks MC holds dear, my desires are much smaller.

  I’m only interested in ruining Beast O’Brien’s twins.

  FOUR

  Cool as a cucumber. Isn’t that the saying? It certainly sums up the placid expression on Maddi’s face as I lead her to my car for our date. She appears as unperturbed by my presence as a thoroughbred horse that’s facing the starting gates for the umpteenth time.

  “Comfortable?” I ask, pulling the seatbelt free and passing the end to her.

  Maddi nods, then takes the seatbelt from me and plugs it in. I linger next to her with the door still open. She appears to be ignoring me which knocks the wind from my sails and has me second guessing my plans for the night. Did I overestimate the impact I had on her on New Year’s Day?

  Heart beating in my chest with the erratic rhythm of a pair of bongo drums being played by an amateur, I decide that I need space to get my faculties back in order. Unfortunately, it’s too late. Uncertainty makes me clumsy and I bang my head against the top of the door jamb when I pull away from Maddi. Her head turns, and she meets my eyes for the first time since I knocked on her front door five minutes ago.

  “Are you okay?” A cute twist of her lips follows her query and distracts me from the fact that I was upset with her not even thirty seconds ago.

  Instead of answering her question, I lean forward and press my mouth against hers. The same scent from New Year’s Eve invades my senses, addling my wits and making me kiss her with more intent than intended. Her gasp fills the air and she jerks away from me like my lips are made of fire. When there is enough space, Maddi presses her fingers against her mouth. Two high, red spots colour her cheeks.

  I run my gaze over her face, silently imploring her to look at me. She doesn’t, but it’s okay. This time I know her refusal to meet my eyes is because she’s trying to hide how much I’m affecting her composure.

  I’m silent as I step out of the way and close her door with a decisive thump. My pulse returns to normal and I mentally congratulate myself on ruffling her feathers. The smile that lifts my lips upward is quickly stifled when I take my seat in the driver’s position and start the car.

  This time, I’m calm and she’s the one vying for my attention.

  Exactly how it should be.

  “So, where are we going for dinner?” Maddi asks.

  “Castro’s,” I reply in a clipped tone. Pretending to focus all my concentration on steering the car down the gravel driveway that leads from her home back to the main road, I watch Maddi fidget in her seat out of the corner of my eye.

  “That sounds nice. I’ve never been there. It’s pretty fancy, isn’t it?” The rapid-fire nature of her speech gives away her flustered state. I flip on my indicator and look over my shoulder before turning onto the bitumen road.

  “Yeah, it’s not bad,” I state, deadpan.

  Castro’s is nothing special to me. It is the fanciest restaurant around this area, however my fine dining experiences far outweigh what this eatery has to offer. The fact that Maddi has never been there highlights the differences in our lifestyles and I let the bland delivery of my answer drive that point home to her.

  The remainder of the trip is spent in casual conversation about school, siblings, and her plans to become a lawyer. None of it particularly interests me. I’m not attracted to her mind and I couldn’t give a crap about her brothers or what she has planned for her final year of high school. Unfortunately for me—and luckily for her, since her dull conversation indicates that her social skills are lacking finesse—my plan requires me to play the part of the perfect country gentleman and appear to be enthralled by the monotony of her life. The slight flush that still reddens her face when the interior light of my vehicle illuminates her face after I’ve pulled into the parking lot tells me that Maddi’s falling for my act.

  Hook, line, and sinker.

  Pulling her door open, I hold out my hand to help her from the car.

  “Just a sec,” Maddi declares. She holds up a finger then goes back to typing out a text message. Once she’s pressed send, I gesture for her to get out of the car. I’m ignored while she stares at her screen with expectation in her expression and I realise that our stilted conversation on the way here was her rambling attempt at being polite while she was otherwise occupied.

  This piece of information sparks a flicker of anger deep in my gut.

  Less than half a minute later, her phone buzzes and she speedily swipes the screen. I attempt to read the message, but it’s to no avail. Maddi angles the phone away from me and I’m forced to settle for watching her face while her eyes dart back and forth over the device.

  “Oh, my God.” she says with a giggle. It’s a sound that I’ve never heard from her. My last nerve
begins to grate, the happy sound setting my teeth on edge. The blush on her face becomes darker as it travels from her chest, up her neck, and settles on her cheeks. The spark becomes an inferno and red raw rage engulfs me.

  My veins are on fire. An agitated tic takes control of my right eye and I stretch my neck from side to side in an attempt to harness my anger. The loud cracking sound from my joints responding to the pressure I’m exerting fills the air around us. It diverts Maddi’s attention from her phone back to me. She presses the lock button and drops it into her purse.

  “Are you ready?” I snap before I can stop myself.

  I know what I’m about to do is wrong, but I can’t help it. I want to bite my tongue. I want to keep up the charming façade I had planned for this evening. I want to remain non-threatening and pleasant, but all resemblance to an easy-going country boy has fled. My anger knows no bounds. The flustered reaction I thought I was creating within her had nothing to do with me—it belongs to whoever is on the other end of her text messages and that just won’t do.

  “I—uh,” Maddi stutters.

  The scarlet on her cheeks has now disappeared, leaving her face pale.

  Clicking my fingers in her face, I beckon her forward with the same hand a second later. “Move. My reservation was for five minutes ago.”

  With a quick spin on my heel, I stride off toward Castro’s. My expectation is that she’ll trot after me and apologise, so when I turn back to point the key fob at my car to lock it, I’m stopped in my tracks to find that Maddi remains seated in the vehicle.

  Anger at my attitude emanates from her. It shines like a bright red fire alarm, flashing and beeping with a warning that I’ve played this all wrong.

  “I’d like to go home, Brendan. My appetite has suddenly vanished. Unnecessary rudeness has a way of doing that to me.” Maddi crosses her arms over her chest once she’s finished chastising me and rests them on the top of her large purse in dignified silence.

  The shock that’s coursing through me steals my ability to speak, then it robs me of my ability to think. I’m stumped. Nobody ever calls me on my behaviour. I have nothing to draw on—no prior experience from which to decide how to react to her challenge. Rage should be dictating my response, yet I feel nothing of the sort.

  No. I’m not angry any longer.

  I’m exhilarated.

  Is this what it feels like to be treated like a normal person?

  Before I can weigh up my options, before I can choose how to react to any of this, I’m heading back to Maddi. When I reach her door, I drop to my knees in front of her and tug at her hands until she allows them to extend toward me.

  “I’m sorry,” my voice cracks as I verbalise this foreign statement. “My behaviour has been disgusting.”

  I kiss the back of her left hand. “Please forgive me for being disrespectful.”

  Repeating my actions, I lay my lips against the knuckles on her right hand. Maddi tries to pull away, although it seems to be a token resistance which she gives up the second I refuse to let her hand go. “I’ve had a hard day and I took it out on you.”

  Lifting my head, I look her straight in the eyes and do something I’ve never done before.

  I plead for forgiveness—and I actually mean it.

  “Having a hard day isn’t an excuse. I’m trying to offer an explanation, except now I realise that nothing I say will make up for how I just acted.” The hardness around Maddi’s eyes is softening and the thin line created by her sternly pressed together lips is receding. It’s not much, however it is enough for me to continue. “Instead of giving you a bunch of meaningless words, I propose that we start this night over. Let me treat you the way you deserve, and after dinner, I’ll take you home and you can decide if you never want to see me again?”

  Pushing to my feet, I stand in front of her with my hand held out. It’s an exact replica of how we were minutes earlier, yet none of the previous animosity is present. My posture is loose, and my mood is hopeful. Maddi has lost the pinched look of disapproval she had and she’s fumbling with her seatbelt. Once she’s standing in front of me, I bend my arm at my side and say with a real smile on my face and genuine remorse in my voice, “May I escort you to dinner, Maddi? Despite my boorish behaviour, our reservation still stands.”

  “I would like that very much,” she replies, tucking her arm through mine and returning my smile. The sight of her beside me makes my stomach flip. It takes a second before I determine what’s happening to me. When understanding dawns, it steals my smile and turns the small spark of contentment I was feeling into an anxious knot that sends shivers of foreboding down my spine.

  Madelaine O’Brien just gave me—Brendan Thomas Taylor, heir to the Fitzgerald fortune and the unique Taylor brand of political supremacy—butterflies.

  Yes, you heard me correctly.

  Butterflies.

  Arm-in-arm, we walk together toward the front door of Castro’s with our footsteps are in sync. Maddi’s height is the matching feminine equivalent to mine. She fits me perfectly. Our bodies lean, almost unconsciously, toward each other. Another alarm sounds. This time the fictional warning bells in my head aren’t sounding off in alarm at the lack of finesse in my tactics.

  No, they’re trying to warn me that I’m at risk of being beaten at my own game.

  FIVE

  Dinner moves smoothly.

  My temper is safely hidden. My words are charming and thoughtful. My interest in every piece of information that Maddi willingly shares about herself is real. Her guard drops further every time I make her laugh—which isn’t as often as I’d like. Outside of gaining her trust to further my game, my only other goal for this evening is to entice her enough to replicate the stunning giggle I heard in the car. It was so very at odds with the rather thoughtful, low-key girl who sits across from me at the table.

  I can’t help but believe her reaction was something special.

  Her beauty bewitches my eyes and the tiny smile that lifts her lips holds my attention in thrall.

  As stupid as it sounds—and I’m sure my father would laugh himself into a cardiac event if he ever found out—I’m determined to become special to Maddi. She is intriguing; a real-life diamond in the rough. A jewel that hasn’t been tarnished by her toxic surroundings. Rather she stands tall on her own terms.

  Proud. Sure. Strong?

  There is strength, I can see it with my own eyes.

  But how deep it goes?

  I don’t know.

  Her true grit is yet to be revealed, although I will admit that Maddi has shown more backbone during this one outing than most men I know have demonstrated toward me in my entire life. The conundrum that this girl poses spikes my curiosity. It’s a dangerous situation. Because you know what they say? “Curiosity killed the cat.” Fortunately I’m well-versed in the little-known rejoinder to that proverb, “but satisfaction brought it back.” For reasons I’m yet to identify, I feel that seeing this plan through to the end—with Maddi and Benji as my prey—could offer me the salvation I seek from this tedious life I’m forced to lead.

  To run the risk of losing it all, to go all-in on one hand, is an enthralling prospect. Uncovering what makes Maddi tick shouldn’t be my end-game, however I’m more excited by the thought of getting inside her head, than I am by the idea of discovering how to ruin her brother in the process.

  “Tell me,” Maddi interrupts my reverie. Lifting my gaze from her lips, I nod for her to proceed. “What exactly is Carpaccio?”

  An elegant finger points at the menu that she holds in front of me. I lean forward, pretending to examine the small print Maddi is gesturing toward. In reality, I’m using her proximity to take another whiff of her unique scent. For some reason, it soothes me.

  “Carpaccio is—” I stop speaking when Maddi sits back in her chair.

  “Did you just sniff me?” she asks.

  Her eyes are wide, and her lips are pressed together—presenting a picture-perfect example of shock. My face heats,
and I will it to stop. Nothing works. As I brace for her anger, my mind rushes to find a plausible reason for what she just caught me doing. Incredibly, none is needed. Instead, Maddi ducks her head, covering her mouth with her hand as she giggles while I gape at her like a goldfish.

  There it is!

  The reaction I sought has been sent directly from heaven for my consumption. The lilting sound is the same as the one that triggered my anger near the car. It’s melodic. Beautiful. Genuine. Completely at odds with the fake veneer of sneering superiority that everyone in my life presents to the world.

  “The thing is—” Maddi and I speak in unison.

  Using my hand, I gesture for her to go first. After a moment, in which she wipes from her cheeks the tears that her laughter brought forth, Maddi continues in an amused, but almost shy tone.

  “The thing is,” she pauses, appearing to fight down another bout of giggles. “I’ve been sniffing you all night as well because you smell so damn good.”

  Crack. Bang. Boom. The sound that reverberates through my head is the last of my defences falling. My internal organs feel like they’ve been dipped in popping candy. They fizz and foam, bubble and burst, the effervescence that grows within me almost too much to handle. My heart is the worst. It’s thumps in my chest for a few beats before it skips twice, and a frantic thrumming begins. Pressure builds, growing until I swear my ribs are going to break from the force. I’d labelled her a diamond-in-the-rough earlier this evening, but that was an underestimation on my behalf. Maddi is utterly unlike anyone I’ve ever met. It’s a concrete fact and heralds the instant when I decide that I’ll kill anyone who tries to pry her inimitable presence from my grasp.

  The effort needed to react in a way that doesn’t seem out of place is enormous, especially with the whirlwind of emotion that’s swirling within me. I manage it after a few deep breaths, plastering what I hope is humour on my face as I attempt to sort my thoughts into some semblance of order.

  Raising my wine glass, I wait until Maddi has lifted her glass of water, before saluting her. “To us. May we always smell so damn good that we can’t resist the urge to sniff each other.”