“I saw her bruises,” he rasped. “They were not happy together.”
“I know.” I swallowed down my sorrow.
“The second I knew about Abramovicz, Camille, the second I knew your father was about to flog the same dead horse, you were always going to be my wife.”
My throat felt like he’d shoved an orange down it, but I still managed to choke out, “That’s not possible.”
“It is. I was going to get in touch with you a lot sooner, date you, even. But that didn’t work out. My family was involved with some shit that...” He blew out a breath. “Well, we’re still dealing with the same BS. It’s just a different fucking day.”
“Brennan?”
“Yes?”
“Why are you telling me this?”
His jaw clenched. “Because I’m an asshole. Because I’m going to do shit that pisses you off, and even if it does, I’ll still expect you to obey me if I ask you to do something... but that’s just who I am. I might only be the spare heir to the O’Donnelly throne, but I was born with power, Camille. I know who I am, know what I’m capable of, and know that now you’re my wife, there are going to be some days you hate me.
“And, in all honesty, I’m okay with that. I’m not a prick for fun, Camille. If I tell you to do something, it’s for a reason. Not because I’m a boring cunt with nothing else better to do with my time than make you miserable.
“If I tell you to stay in, then that’s because it’s not safe outside. If I tell you to stand in the fucking corner and face the wall, it’s because you’ve done something stupid and you need to think about your actions—”
I had no idea, no idea whatsoever, why that had heat whipping through me.
Stand in the corner?
Like I was a little girl?
I’d seen them do that in old movies. Seen kids who’d had to wear paper cones on their heads with a massive letter ‘D’ for dunce on it.
That should not be a turn on, but tell that to my body.
Unaware that my mind had just gone down a decidedly deviant route, Brennan continued, “—for all that, I want your loyalty. Your trust. And I’m aware I need to earn it.”
Of the million things I could have woken up to today, of the many things he could have said or done, whatever I might have anticipated, this was not it.
But then, I took a second to look at him, to take every inch of him in and process.
He was fully dressed, and his shoes were dirty. I had no idea who polished those Italian Oxfords, but someone did, and I’d seen them all lined up in his closet. The dirt on them, that tracked mud onto the gazillion-thread count sheets, meant that he’d gone out.
Everything Russian in me cringed at the sight. In my culture, it was rude to wear shoes inside the home, and filthy ones? In bed?
Still, there were more important things to concern myself with...
A glance outside the windows let anyone know that it was barely morning, but something had evidently happened. Something that put shadows in the eyes of this frightening man I called husband.
But for all that I’d been thinking of ways to tie him to me, he’d clearly been wanting the same thing in return.
I could have been coy, could have milked this situation for all it was worth, could have kept him hanging—but that wasn’t me.
I wasn’t, and never would be, like that.
So I was honest with him, and I hoped he didn’t fuck me over because I didn’t want to play games with him.
“You saved me from my family,” I intoned softly, lifting my legs so that I could wrap my arms around my knees. “From the Bratva,” I tacked on. “You spun deals to keep me safe. Without speaking to Maxim, without making that happen, I have no idea where I’d be right now.
“Brennan, we don’t know each other that well, so you don’t know if you can trust me or not. If anything, you know what I’ll do to survive, so I understand if that doesn’t mean that much to you. I’m here, my father’s blood on my hands, with no guilt in my heart, no grief weighing me down, but I’m telling you now—I’ll never betray you.” When his face remained a blank slate, I whispered, “I told Maxim that too. If he ever tried to use what I did to Father against me, to manipulate me into spilling secrets about the Five Points, I told him I wouldn’t, and I meant it.”
His mouth twisted into a skewed line as he sat up, his elbows coming to his thighs as he propped himself up. He shoved his face into his hands like he was going to cry, but he rubbed his palms over his eyes, digging in as if he was trying to rid them of sleep.
I wasn’t sure what that meant. If he believed me or not, and just as a whisper of hurt tried to flare inside me, he rasped, “There’s some shit you’re not supposed to tell anyone. You’re just supposed to lock it up inside, and you have to deal with it. Usually I can do that, usually, it’s just another day on the fucking job. But...”
“Today’s different. Why?” I asked softly.
“You’ve been betrayed, Camille. I guess you didn’t know that at the time, but your father betrayed you, didn’t he?”
“He did. Not just with Mama but when he wouldn’t change his mind about who he wanted me to marry. I had no alternative but to run.”
“What if you can’t run? And what if, you know something that could destroy a family, but they’re going to destroy your world—does that make it okay to retaliate? To act first before they have the chance to?” He shook his head. “This is fucked up.”
“It sounds it,” I whispered, surprised he was telling me this even though I was also glad. Tentatively, I pressed my hand to his leg. The silk suit didn’t crease beneath my grasp, but I was reminded of just how dressed he was and how dressed I wasn’t. “Brennan? What can I do to help?”
“No one can help, Camille. This is one of those Catch 22 situations, and the bitch of it is that I’m not supposed to be talking about this kind of crap with you but—” He shook his head again. “Ain’t got no one else who won’t fly off the handle when they hear this news.”
Cautiously, I questioned, “Are you in danger? Is that the kind of betrayal you’re talking about?”
He cast me a look. “We’re always in danger.” His mouth twisted. “Didn’t you know?”
“I did, but this sounds more urgent.”
“It is.” He grunted under his breath. “What time did you agree to meet with Inessa?”
I blinked at the abrupt change of subject. “Six. For Vespers.”
He shook his head. “I’m sorry but you have to cancel. I need to intro you to the parents before Sunday lunch tomorrow, otherwise that will just be a whole mess that I can’t deal with on top of this.”
“I understand,” I told him calmly, and I did. “Inessa will get it.”
She might not, but once I explained why Brennan needed me, I figured she’d forgive me, and we could reschedule for next week.
After clearing my throat, I asked, “So, tonight’s the night?”
“It is.” He gritted his teeth. “I’ll be speaking with Da after the meal so that you can get to know them both without him being on edge. Well,” he said with a sigh, “more on edge than usual.”
“I understand.” I patted his leg, wanting to help but knowing that was probably impossible. “Is it really that bad?” I asked cautiously. This world we lived in, caution didn’t favor the brave. It favored the smart—and that meant keeping your nose out of things that didn’t concern you. He probably didn’t realize the trust I showed in him by even bothering to ask.
He didn’t answer for the longest time. Long enough for me to think I should just get off the bed. I had things to do if I was going to meet his parents today—I needed to find them a gift to take to their house, and I had to plan what I was going to wear. We also needed to discuss whether we were selling our marriage as a love match or something of convenience.
Just as I started to cringe inside at having the head of the Irish Mob peer down at me like I was a dog turd he’d trod in tonight, Brennan rasped, “We’ve
been having issues with people who’ve been betraying the Points, Camille.
“This isn’t something I should share with you, but the people closest to the O’Donnellys might have been compromised so I need you to listen to me when I tell you to watch yourself.”
“You think someone on your personal guard might be compromised?” I asked on an exhalation, easily picking up on what he meant.
He shrugged, but I saw his hurt, registered it in the miserable slant to his mouth as he grimaced. “I—” Brennan released a breath. “No one is what they seem. Not anymore. I promised to protect you. Not just to Mariska, but yesterday... my vows meant something to me. I might not be the good Catholic boy my da wishes I was, but vows matter.
“I want your trust. Your loyalty. But sometimes, I’m going to test both. I can’t tell you why I ask you to do something, or why I ask you not to, you just have to know that I won’t do it unnecessarily.” I stared at him long enough for him to sigh and mutter, “I know that’s a big ask.”
“It is considering we don’t know each other well enough for me to understand your judgment calls, but...” I sighed, and even though I knew any feminist around would want to strangle me, I saw a light at the end of the tunnel here. A light that hadn’t been there before.
Sex was temporary.
I knew that from Nyx.
Sex would keep a man interested only for so long before the promise of some other pussy, another pretty ass and a good set of tits had them sniffing around like the horn dogs they were.
This was tangible.
This offered more than I could have hoped for.
“But?” Brennan prompted, his hands balling into fists.
“But we both went into this with open eyes, and eventually, when we want children, I would like for us to seem happy, to be a team when it comes to raising them. I’ll trust you, Brennan, if you’ll show me the same esteem in return.”
His eyes narrowed on me. “So, you’re going to do this for the kids we haven’t had yet. For kids we may never have?”
“Why wouldn’t we?” I questioned warily.
“Life happens. Biology and health aren’t always on our side.”
Everything inside me clenched down with horror at the thought of being sterile or having issues like Mama. In this world, my worth depended on my ability to have children. I wasn’t a regular woman. IVF or adoption weren’t routes made men were willing to traverse.
Feeling sick to my stomach with fear for something I had no control over, and wishing I could just be normal, miserably I whispered, “I suppose not... but yes. For those future children, I’ll do this.”
“You’re a lot more generous than I am.”
The twist of my lips was rueful. “I didn’t grow up with parents who loved each other.”
“You think my folks were like the Von Trapps?” He snorted. “They loved each other for sure, but I grew up with clipped ears and—” A breath gusted from him. “Never mind.”
“Isn’t the role of a parent to want better for their children than they had?”
Our eyes caught and held. “You’re right,” he agreed.
I shot him a gentle smile, and feeling brave, I let my hand slip higher, higher and higher until mine covered his fist. “I need to buy your parents a gift.”
He nodded. “Call Bagpipes.”
“I will.”
“Inessa...” Brennan pulled a face. “Inessa bought them a set of slippers each. Ma liked that.”
“Yes, it’s custom in our culture not to wear shoes in the house.” I cast a look at Brennan’s dirty footwear. “It’s rude.”
“It’s rude in every culture to wear filthy shoes in bed,” he said dryly.
“Then why did you do it?”
“Because it never mattered before. I could do whatever the fuck I wanted.”
Could?
Past tense?
I’d take that as a glimmer of hope.
“I’ll be more mindful in future, but this morning was not an ordinary morning.”
“I can see that,” I whispered, then, squeezed his hand. “I’m sorry, Brennan. I won’t let you down. I promise.”
“No one can make that particular promise,” he rasped, turning his face away.
Maybe I was a fool, maybe I was borrowing trouble, because he was right—it was a promise, in our world, that would be difficult to keep, but, voice husky, I repeated, “I can and I do, Brennan. I won’t let you down.”
He turned back to me, stared at me for what felt like endless seconds, then rasped, “Call Bagpipes.” Inside, I deflated. I didn’t know what I’d been waiting for, but I didn’t get it. “I need you to be ready by four, okay?”
“We’ll be leaving that early?”
“It takes ninety minutes in good traffic to get to their place.” He reached into his inside pocket and slipped something out. A credit card. He passed it over to me. “We should have discussed this before, but this is yours. Use it however you want. I’ll top it up once a month.”
My throat tightened at the financial freedom he was giving me. “You don’t have to do that.”
“No, maybe I don’t,” he muttered, “but... for those future kids of ours, yeah? We’ll trust one another.”
I sent him a soft smile. “We will.”
Twenty-Five
Brennan
“Callum,” I greeted, my smile wide as I held out my hand for him. When our fingers collided, I tugged him into me so I could slap him on the back. “Thanks for coming over.”
“No worries. Is everything okay?”
“Sure is. I just need your help with something.” I held out my arm, indicating he should go down the corridor. “It’s in my office.”
“Never been to your place before,” he said sheepishly.
“Shit, I’m sorry. I should have invited you over once the decorator had finished. I didn’t really have a housewarming. Just my brothers came over and trashed the place.”
He grinned. “Sounds about right.”
I ran down the steps, hearing his thudding footsteps behind me and I pointed to my game room. “You have to see this. It’s my seven-year-old self’s version of heaven.”
Callum chuckled as I guided him inside, showing off a collection of arcade games I was pretty proud of—they’d cost me a fucking fortune to hunt down.
“Shit!” He ran over and gaped at my favorite cabinets.
“They’re all mint condition.”
“I can’t believe you have Galaga. Holy fuck, is that 1942?”
“Sure is.” I smirked at him. “We should have realized back then the fuck ups we’d be when all we loved were the shoot-‘em-up games. Have at it,” I told him, waving a hand as he immediately booted up the sci-fi classic that was Galaga.
I walked toward the snooker table, and started to set up the balls for a game.
Now he was here, that was half the battle.
The other half was me not ramming a snooker cue down his fucking throat.
My jaw worked at the thought, but I maintained a placid expression as I set up a triangle on the green baize, then placed the red balls inside it. Setting the colored balls on the grid, I moved over to grab two cues, leaned one against the table, and then started chalking up my tip.
When he’d finished, he was grinning from ear to ear. “I swear, if I have a boy, I need to get them hooked on that. I loved that shit when I was a kid.”
“Who didn’t?” I knew my smile would be reflected in my eyes. “Simpler times back then, Cal.”
“Tell me about it. I’m still freaking out about Priestley pissing on a stick and it turning blue.” He pulled a face, but something about his words had me tipping my head to the side.
Was he trying to remind me he was about to be a family man? To deflect from the situation? I knew he had to be wondering why the hell I’d invited him here. Deflection might be his first line of defense.
I scrubbed my chin as I murmured, “Might as well have a game of snooker.”
; He shrugged. “Don’t play. And I really need to get back when we’ve done. Priestley wants to go shopping. She wants to get the nursery ready ASAP.”
“Similar principles to pool. You pot a red, then you go for a colored ball. Don’t worry, I’ll tell you the order as we go,” I instructed, ignoring the rest of his BS.
“Why not?” His smile was tight when he realized I wasn’t going to let this go.
“I’ll break,” I told him, leaning over the head of the table and tapping the white ball. It connected hard with the 2D red pyramid, sending balls shooting over the green surface. When I potted one, I murmured, “Next, you have to pot a color in ascending order of points. Yellow, green, brown, blue, pink, then black.”
I tapped the yellow into the top corner pocket, then aimed for another red and missed.
“Your turn.”
He leaned over the table, made his aim and tapped the white. He potted a red, a green, and another red. I saw the flush in his eyes as he grinned at me. “Beginner’s luck.”
“Must be.”
I hitched my leg onto the side of the table, watching as he moved around, potting balls left, right, and center, before I asked, “You know we’ll always look after Priestley, and your kid, if anything ever happens to you, don’t you, Cal?”
He missed his next shot. "Huh?”
I shrugged. “In our line of work, anything could happen. But you know the Five Points will look after your kid and your woman if anything should go wrong.”
He blinked at me. “That’s pretty fucking grim, Bren, but yeah, I guess I knew that.”
“Good.” I smiled as I got to my feet so I could take my shot.
“What did you call me over here for, Bren?”
I didn’t answer, but I purposely let the white ball drift into the pocket nearest him. “Shit,” I murmured, strolling around to that side, watching, waiting until he tucked his hand into it.
When he dug deep for the ball, I grabbed his forearm and dragged it back against the side of the pocket. As he howled, I didn’t stop until the dual cracks of his ulna and radius splintering ricocheted through the room, which was when I gripped the back of his neck and rammed his face into the wooden panel that lined the edge of the pool table.
Filthy Sex: The Five Points’ Mob Collection: Four Page 26
