Bare-assed naked, he walked to the corridor lined with closets, where I heard a door opening, the rattling of coat hangers, before I heard another final door which he closed. Leaving me in here to slowly lower my legs, to feel the ache in my muscles, to take a deep inhalation at long last which triggered a bout of coughing, to accept a sorry, despicable, delicious truth.
I wanted more.
Of this.
Of him.
Of Camille. Not Cammie.
Seventeen
Brennan
Knowing that Forrest would have taken Victoria straight to the living room, I pulled on my jeans in the hall and felt like a fucking teenager when I had to hop and jump to get into them.
I had weak knees, and it had nothing to do with my daily ten-mile runs and everything to do with that mind-bending orgasm back there.
Fuck.
How I hadn’t pushed into her, taken her—I deserved a fucking medal.
Or that sainthood Baggy and me had been talking about yesterday.
Yeah, I should definitely be canonized because pulling away from that sweet cunt made me want to punch myself in the face.
Growling under my breath as I finally got my jeans on, then shoved on a tee, I decided that I wouldn’t get too close to my future sister-in-law because I stank of soap and sex. Personally, they were my most favorite of scents, but they had no place outside of the bedroom I’d just left. A bedroom I hadn’t wanted to leave, in all honesty.
Grateful that my apartment was a duplex, and that Victoria could live downstairs because her sister was definitely a screamer, I tried not to listen to the bedroom to hear if she was heading into the shower. Tried not to listen for the sound of water as I stormed down the hall and toward the upper living area of the penthouse.
When I saw Forrest standing awkwardly by the window, I arched a brow and watched him flare his eyes in warning. Turning to face the youngest of the Vasov sisters, I found her scowling up at me.
“Where’s my sister?” she growled at me, but her arms were held tightly at her waist and even as she was glaring, I saw the fear in them. A fear she was trying to hide with a ballsy attitude.
Whatever the hell that fucker of a father had done to her, he’d had more time to do worse to Camille...
“Which sister?” I asked instead, and without waiting for her to reply, I moved over to the other end of the room.
It was unorthodox, but my living area was one big open-planned space, mostly because it had been that way when I was a kid and I liked it. I liked the kitchen leading onto the dining room table and I liked being able to see the TV while eating at the breakfast bar.
With two floors, I had enough room for three other living rooms, each more formal than this one, but this was my favorite. It reminded me of simpler times, before I was a killer.
Before Brennan O’Donnelly inspired fear in people.
Before hearing that name had men running the other way...
Moving over to the kitchen, I peered inside and found a jar of overnight oats my housekeeper prepared for me before she left. When I pulled it out, Victoria was there, at my heels, and I asked, “Do you want some? Mary leaves me two jars.”
She blinked. “Who’s Mary?”
“She’s my housekeeper.”
“Oh.” Her gaze drifted to the jar. “What is it?”
“Oatmeal.”
“With chocolate?” She peered at it suspiciously. “For breakfast?”
“I have a sweet tooth,” I said wryly, shoving the one with berries at her. “If you want to be healthy—”
As my voice waned off, she grabbed the one with chocolate then demanded, “I meant Cammie. I know where Inessa is.”
“Where’s that?”
“JFK, probably,” was her reply. “She’s on her way back from Texas. But that’s the sister I know about. Where’s Cammie? And why wasn’t Maxim the one who picked me up? And why can’t I go home?”
I arched a brow at her. “With all those questions, I’m surprised you got in the car with Forrest.”
“Trust me, we had an argument first,” my buddy grumbled.
“Never heard of stranger danger?” Victoria retorted, making Forrest roll his eyes.
“She has a point. That’s how you know where Inessa is, right?” I asked, smiling as I pulled open a drawer, grabbed two spoons and shoved one at her.
“Where’s mine?” Forrest groused as he moved over to the kitchen.
“You don’t like oatmeal,” I pointed out.
“I meant, breakfast.”
I shrugged. “You know where the fridge is.”
Victoria frowned at our conversation, before she confirmed, “Eoghan told me I could trust Forrest. That’s why I came. He said he was on your crew. Whatever that means.”
“It means he’s a friend. And it means I trust him with you.”
Forrest heaved a sigh. “God help me.”
I smirked at him, then turned back to my sister-in-law. “Camille is just getting ready.”
“Ready for what?” she asked warily.
I didn’t have an answer to that. I might have been listening to the plumbing as I dealt with both Victoria and Forrest, and I might not have heard the sounds of a shower, but it wasn’t my job to explain what had happened with her cunt of a father.
Victoria didn’t know me. I’d danced with her once at Eoghan’s wedding, just like she’d danced with all my brothers, but she’d been pink-cheeked, and I’d been trying to stop Da from losing his shit with Eoghan who’d just dislocated Vasov’s shoulder after their church service.
Heaving a sigh, I just said, “Eat your oatmeal. She’ll be along soon.”
I took a seat at the breakfast bar, hooked my feet around the stool, then opened the mason jar. By the time I was digging my spoon in, she took a suspicious step closer to my side, and took a seat at the other end, which I was grateful for. I really didn’t want her sitting close to me, just in case. Camille would probably stink worse, which had me reconsidering a whole host of things...
Shit.
That was going to spoil my fun. Big time.
Heaving a sigh, I began eating, but I stopped when I heard the padding of footsteps down the hall. When she made it to the door, I was watching for her, and our eyes caught and held as she stepped deeper into the room, her cheeks flushed again, but there was something different about her.
A buoyancy I hadn’t noticed before.
She smiled at me, which was, I realized, the first time I’d seen her do that, and it packed a real punch. Megawatts of energy were aimed my way, but it didn’t knock me off my stool, just made me wish I could bend her over the counter.
In last night’s dress, she shouldn’t look so hot, but she did. Mostly, I regretted the stockings she wore because it hid my bite marks on her calf.
What a shame.
“Camille?”
Victoria’s soft, scared voice broke into my lust-filled thoughts, and it also jarred Camille into looking away from me and hunting for her sister.
“Vicky,” she said with a sigh, her smile toning down, her energy changing as guilt began to ride her.
She’d forgotten.
That was clear to see.
She’d forgotten about the blood she’d spilled, about whatever it was that made her cut herself, that made her seem so sad.
For those moments, she’d been Camille, and she’d been fascinating with it.
I rubbed a hand over my jaw, wondering if I was getting more than I bargained for, but if that was the case, then that would only be proof that the luck of the Irish really was a thing. It’d be just my luck that I did something out of charity, taking in a rough stone, and with a bit of polish, I’d find out I had a diamond...
“What is it? What’s going on? Why didn’t Maxim take me home?” Victoria darted over to her older sister, her hands grabbing at Camille’s arms. “Is it Papa? What’s wrong?”
Camille reached out, dislodging Victoria’s grip on her arms and tugged her into a
hug. “I’m so sorry, Vicky. I-I didn’t mean to—”
When she broke off, I cut Forrest a look. He dipped his chin and faded away. By the time I heard the elevator ping its farewell, Camille still hadn’t explained what happened. Not that I could blame her, was, in fact, curious if she’d lie or tell her the truth about the role she’d played.
It’d be easier if she lied, but it wasn’t my place to direct her otherwise. Complications could arise if Victoria—
“Father’s dead, Victoria,” Camille rasped, her eyes clashing with mine once more over her sister’s head, and I watched the panic in her fade as she took comfort in me, prompting her to whisper, “W-We’re not safe at home anymore.”
“What about Svetlana?” That that was Victoria’s first question told me there was little to no love lost between father and daughter.
Unsurprising.
Because she’d had the chance to explain what had really happened, I decided to tell her the truth as Maxim had spun it in a text he’d sent me before I’d climbed into bed.
“Svetlana killed him, Victoria. She was having an affair with one of his boyeviks and he found out about it, confronted her, and she defended herself.”
Victoria gasped, and twisted around to stare at me. “You can’t be serious! She killed him?”
That she focused on the murder and not the cheating was interesting, but I just cleared my throat. “Sadly, I am.” God could strike me down for that particular lie, and I wouldn’t complain. Sadly? My ass.
She whipped back around to look at Camille, who was still staring at me like I was a script she needed to read. “Who told you that?”
“Maxim.” I answered for her, then returned my attention to my breakfast. “Just as I told him our happy news.”
From the corner of my eye, I saw Camille wince, before she clutched at Victoria’s hands and rasped, “You know Father and me didn’t see eye to eye…”
Vicky frowned, her youthful brow puckering even as her eyes remained clear. I thought it was likelier that she thought she had to cry because her dad had just died and that was why she looked so torn.
I could have told her that tears only fell for those who deserved them... and that bastard of a father of hers didn’t deserve even a single one.
Still, it wasn’t my place, and I stayed quiet as Camille rasped, “I know the timing is terrible, Vicky, darling, but... I hope you’ll be there this afternoon when Brennan and I get married.”
“Wait, you’re getting married? Today?”
Camille shot me a weak smile. “We’ve been dating a while. Ever since I got back.” When I didn’t correct her lies, she grew a little braver. “We were going to do it in secret, but then... last night happened.” She blinked. “I was there when he accused her, Vicky. It was terrible. I saw it all.”
Her younger sister gasped. “You saw him die?”
Camille nodded, then wrapped her arms around Victoria again. “I did.”
Victoria allowed Camille to hug her for a short while, before she twisted back to glare at me. “What kind of man would let his fiancée be treated as badly as my father treated Cammie?” She tipped up her chin. “He was so mean to her. All the time. He called her names, and he was going to make her marry that creep.” She pointed her finger at me. “I don’t know if you deserve Camille, Brennan. Eoghan would never have let Father do what he’s done to Inessa.”
“No, he wouldn’t. He’d have broken both the bastard’s shoulders and his legs too.” My smile was tight. “But a man can only protect his woman from what he knows about.”
Camille winced, before she admitted, “I didn’t want him to know, Vicky. It was too embarrassing.”
I almost laughed when Victoria sighed and patted Camille on the shoulder as if that news didn’t come as much of a shock. Apparently, the eldest Vasov daughter was secretive... go figure. “Is it terrible that I’m glad he’s dead?”
Camille shook her head. “No. I am too.”
“It’s quite liberating, isn’t it?” was her reply, the words coming out in an embarrassed rush, to which Camille sighed.
“It is.”
“Where will I live?”
“Here. With Inessa.” She hitched a shoulder. “It’s your choice.”
“I can’t live at home?”
“Malyshka,” Camille whispered, “that was never your home. The second Mama died, it stopped being that.” She reached for Victoria’s hands, squeezed them. “You know it as well as I do.”
Victoria blinked up at her. “I-I guess.” Then she frowned. “What about my things?”
“Maxim is going to arrange for them to be brought here. Or to Inessa’s,” I said gruffly, feeling selfish for hoping she’d prefer to live with Eoghan.
How long did the bastard need for a honeymoon anyway?
And I had plans for my bride... unintended and unexpected plans, but they were there nonetheless.
Victoria bit her lip. “Do you mind if I stay with Inessa for a little while, Cammie?”
Sorrow lit her features, but I had to admire her for shaking it off, and doing it damn well.
“Of course not,” she told her, and when I saw her squeeze Victoria’s hands a little harder than before, I knew it had nothing to do with imbuing the sentiment by touch, but to experience that whisper of masochistic pleasure I was going to cure her of.
I stared at her long enough so that when she raised her head and happened to glance at me, she couldn’t miss my narrowed focus on her, before I dropped the look to her hands. Immediately, she let go of her hold on her younger sister.
“You might have to stay with us tonight. I don’t know when Inessa’s coming back—”
“They’re flying in from Texas now,” Victoria told her, which let me know that Inessa hadn’t kept Camille in the loop.
It was easy to see that there was a chasm between Camille and her sisters, that, even though she loved them, I wasn’t sure if that love was returned. Or at least, not as much. If love could even be quantified. Favoritism was one thing, but to this extent?
Aidan drove me more insane than Conor did, but that didn’t mean I wouldn’t go to the ends of the earth for both of the fuckers. Hell, I loved Aidan enough to save his ass from Da, picking up the slack for him when few other brothers would do the same. Letting him bottom out so that he’d know he had to clean up on his own terms.
Adding the reasons behind the chasm between the sisters to the questions I needed to ask my future bride, I merely said, “Victoria, we were going to have a small, private service with just a few friends—”
“But Cammie doesn’t have any friends.”
Camille’s cheeks turned pink. “Don’t say that, Vicky.”
“Well, you don’t. Not anymore, do you?” was the grumbled retort, one that anyone with younger siblings had heard way too many times to count.
Not anymore?
What had she done to piss off both her family and friends?
“Shut up,” she hissed, nudging her arm.
“Anyway, you can’t mean there’ll be no family here.” Victoria scowled. “What’s a wedding without family?”
“Peaceful?” was my wry reply. “I’m not going to put either of us through what Eoghan and Inessa dealt with.”
Victoria crinkled her nose. “I think it was romantic.”
“Well, it might be, but even though no one else who’s family is attending... would you like to be there?”
“Duh,” Victoria muttered. “Of course.”
My lips twisted into a smile. “Of course,” I repeated, which was how, six hours later, I ended up getting married in front of my sister-in-law and three of my best friends in my living room.
It wasn’t ideal, but it was done.
And for our purposes, that was what mattered the most.
As I pressed my lips to hers, I let my mouth whisper along to Camille’s ear, and I murmured, “Feel any different now you’re Mrs. Brennan O’Donnelly?”
“Yes.” She tipped up her chin. �
�You were right. I finally feel untouchable.”
“By anyone but me,” I rasped, letting my teeth nip her earlobe as I pressed my hand between her shoulders and held her close. Feeling her shiver, I whispered, “You had the choice to walk away.”
She tipped her head back, brave enough to meet me stare for stare before she murmured, “What makes you think I want to be anywhere but here?”
Have faith. You deserve to be someone’s number one.
Eighteen
Camille
Was it the wedding a little girl dreamed of?
No.
There was no wedding dress, no cake, no family, no party, no games, no gifts, and no big meal.
Nothing.
I wore what I’d arrived in last night, with another borrowed pair of boxers and a cum-covered pussy that was decidedly uncomfortable by this point in the day.
I stood in a living room that, while pleasant enough, was no church, and certainly had no atmosphere—neither grave and serious, nor joyous or otherwise.
But for all that, I was glad. I was even happy because the relief was so acute, I couldn’t be anything other than incandescent with it.
Truly.
In the grand scheme of things, I’d prefer a small non-affair for an occasion that tied me to a man who’d keep me safe than a massive reception that celebrated my marriage to a sadistic bastard who’d rape me until the day his cock stopped working.
What I got were three guys showing up at the door at three that afternoon, two of whom I recognized, the other I didn’t. That one had a discussion with Brennan, while the others drifted into the living room, settling down to watch a show Victoria had on as she stared blindly into the ether. I couldn’t blame her—in the space of an evening, her entire life had changed.
Because of me.
After Brennan’s conversation with the one man on his crew I didn’t know, he’d tugged me into the kitchen and placed a ring on my finger.
“With this ring, I thee wed,” he’d murmured, with the dirty oatmeal dishes still on the counter, a mocking twist to his lips as I stared down in surprise at the large ruby I was now wearing. Shaped into a princess cut, it was elegant and sharp, like blood. Too like it, if I were being honest.
Filthy Sex: The Five Points’ Mob Collection: Four Page 18
