Mad Love

by Ashlyn Mathews

  “How come you got ahold of the results before the family or the media?”

  I’ll later mull over what role Blaise’s great-uncle could’ve played in having her written out of the will. Was Blaise’s loss of protection and funds worth a quarter of a million dollars? I’m betting it is, but for what reason does he need the money?

  “I have someone on the inside. Don’t ask for the name or how I know this person. I won’t give it.”

  I clamp my hand on his shoulder and squeeze. “Loyal to the core. I understand, Roland. Follow the money’s trail. Let me know what you find.”

  “Will do.”

  I leave Roland’s place with more questions than answers.

  Time with Blaise and my chance to ask more about her old security team are interrupted by a visitor I’d expected.

  However, business is business, and I’m not happy Cillian McCabe is in my home rather than confronting me at my office or setting up a meeting at a different location that doesn’t entail making himself comfortable with my wife.

  “The reclusive Blaise Lexington. It’s nice to make your acquaintance, beautiful,” he greets Blaise, taking her gloved hand in his.

  Interesting that the jackass with the jet-ink hair and features as sharp as cut glass has a firm grasp on my wife’s left hand, his gaze scrutinizing the simple wedding band slipped over her ring finger.

  “He’s worth billions, yet at his core, he’s a cheapskate.”

  I ignore his baiting of me and ask if he would like something to drink.

  “Red wine, if you got any, and go easy on the antifreeze, yeah?”

  His blue eyes twinkle. I’m not amused.

  “If I wanted to kill you, I wouldn’t be subtle, Cillian. Believe me, you’ll see it coming.”

  “Ah, so you did cut off those wankers’ junks.”

  “I’m pleading the fifth.”

  “Did they plead for mercy when you and your men stood over them with machetes, Maddox?”

  I lock my jaw. How the fuck did he know that detail?

  Blaise looks from Cillian to me with questions in her eyes. Buried in those questions are revulsion and fear, I’m certain of it. Great, my wife is revulsed at the idea of touching me with her bare hands and she’s fucking scared of me too.

  I march over to my stash of wine, find the cheapest bottle, and poor the bastard in the well-fitted suit a drink. Jesus H. Christ, for a house call he is certainly formal. Jeans and a T-shirt would’ve put me more at ease, but a fucking suit? His attire tells me his presence here is all about business. Fuck business. This is my turf, my home he is trespassing on.

  He seats himself at the kitchen table, makes a show of sniffing the air, and asks in an arrogant tone, “Smells good, sweetheart. What’d you cook for Daddy tonight?”

  Daddy? What the hell kind of game is Cillian playing?

  “Please refrain from talking to my wife in that manner, Cillian.” I set the glass of wine in front of him and take my seat next to Blaise, my spot across from her taken by the bastard with the scarred face.

  We were sitting down for dinner when the front desk called with news of a visitor in the lobby surrounded by an entourage of men with concealed weapons strapped to their hulking bodies.

  “Or else what?”

  “I’ll cut off your dick, that’s what.”

  He laughs. Blaise loses color from her already pale face.

  “Maddox.” Her hand settles on my thigh under the table. Tap, tap, tap from her fingers. She’s imploring me not to let Cillian’s baiting get to me. For her, I’ll do my best not to go with the urge to sock him in the face.

  “Why are you here, Cillian?”

  “I have a proposition for you.”

  “And what is that?”

  “One night with your wife and you can develop the southeastern blocks to your heart’s content.”

  “Fuck no.”

  “I’m only asking for one night.”

  “One minute. One hour. One night. The answer will always be the same. She’s mine.”

  “I’m not your property, Maddox.”

  Wait, what? My attention swivels to Blaise. She’s siding with the arrogant bastard?

  “You’re willing to spend a night with him?” I point my finger at Cillian, not being shy with my middle finger.

  “A night of conversation and that would be the extent of it.”

  I shake my head, floored she’s willing to side with a prick like Cillian McCabe. “I won’t allow it.”

  Cillian tsks. “How about I make this easy for you both?”

  He pulls out his cell, and swiping his fingers over the screen, he finds what he’s looking for and sets the phone in front of us.

  “She’s not loyal to you, Maddox. Blaise will always be loyal to the one who’s been there from the beginning.”

  On his phone is an image of the front door of my penthouse. Blaise has her gloved hand on Granger’s face, and from the angle, it looks like he’s nuzzling the curve of my wife’s neck. I see red. Grabbing her hand that’s still on my thigh, I set it on hers.

  Blaise doesn’t refute what is obvious in the picture. Her silence is her admission of guilt. But what is she guilty of? The proposal was clear. Either of us can go outside the marriage for sex. Except what Blaise and Granger have goes beyond the physical. He completes and knows her in a way I never could. Not in the short amount of time we have together.

  “And here, my dear, is proof Maddox isn’t the doting husband you’d wish him to be.”

  Cillian swipes his finger over the screen. The next image is of me holding Kris in my arms.

  “This is his old flame, Kristine Holland. Beautiful, isn’t she? She’s a creature more to Maddox’s liking, a schoolteacher at one of the most impoverished neighborhoods. She has a master’s degree in mathematics. Smart and beautiful.”

  He whistles. Blaise looks down at her plate of vegetables. I dig my nails into the underside of the chair. Otherwise, I’ll lurch across the table and pummel him into a bloody mess.

  “Is tomorrow night okay?” Blaise mumbles.

  “So long as you spend the next day with me too, beautiful.”

  Friday night and Saturday day?

  “That’s too much time,” I point out.

  She tips her damn cute chin at me. “It’s not your decision to make.”

  “I have a say in this. You’re my wife.”

  “A business arrangement.”

  Laughter bursts from Cillian. The scarred skin on the left side of his face moves as though it has a life of its own.

  “This gets more and more interesting.”

  He rises from his chair.

  “I will send a car to pick you up tomorrow at five. Make contact with her at all during her time with me and I will rescind the offer, Maddox. Understood?”

  Do I have a choice in the matter?

  “Understood, but if any harm comes to her, there’ll be hell to pay.”

  “I prefer my dick be attached to my body. You have my promise.” He flicks his attention to Blaise. “Good night, sweetheart.”

  He leaves, and my appetite gone, I head for the door too.

  “Where are you going?” Blaise calls after me.

  “Out. I need fresh air.”

  “Okay. I’ll be in the pool in an hour if you want to join me,” she says in this soft, pleading voice that has my gut clenching.

  I close the door behind me, not glancing back. If I did, the sadness in her eyes would have me rushing to her. Yet, it’s not me she wants. She’s after something far more dangerous. Cillian.

  Damn her.

  Well after midnight, I make my way inside my place and stumble into my bedroom, drunk off my ass. My clothes fall where they land, neatness be damned.

  I crawl under the covers, a gnawing emptiness eating at me. I’ll be sleeping alone. Except I’m not alone. A small body scoots close to my nakedness. Blaise’s arm tucks under mine. Her leg rubs against mine. Satin on skin.

  “I missed yo
u.”

  I stay quiet. Does she think I’m Granger?

  “Please don’t be mad at me. Cillian has answers. This is my chance.”

  “You’re willing to give him your body for answers?”

  “I’m willing to give you what you want. Redeveloping the neighborhood where your friend was attacked is an honorable thing to do, Maddox.”

  “How—”

  “The TMZ article on you and Leigh a few weeks ago. I had Granger look into her life. You care for her. Enough to want to destroy a piece of her past and rebuild it, starting from the foundation up.”

  “And your past? How should I help you start over, Blaise?”

  “Help me move forward away from my past.”

  “Except your past has come knocking on your door. Is Cillian your plan B for when your three months with me are up, darling?”

  Will she go from one man to another, searching for whatever it is that eludes her? Security. Money. But not love. Blaise has never been in love, so how will she know when she does fall for someone? Or is she right and someone like her, with a traumatic past, isn’t capable of opening herself up enough to allow in love? To love someone is to be open and vulnerable to getting hurt. A place I never want to be in again after Kris shredded my heart to pieces.

  “Cillian will do whatever I ask.”

  Blaise’s soft voice brings me back to the matter at hand—Cillian.

  “How are you certain?”

  “He’s an important part of my past.”

  “Care to share?”

  “Not yet. Eventually, I will. I promise. Now get on your back. I want to suck you off.”

  Jesus.

  My wife will be the death of me with her demands.

  But I’ll take this heavenly death any day as she sucks me off so well and thoroughly, I shoot hot cum in her mouth.

  What is heaven, though, is holding her after she breaks apart on my face with her own orgasm. Her butt is nestled against my crotch. My arm is across her waist. My face is nestled in her hair, the strands tickling my nose. Blaise smells good. A hint of pears ripened by the hot sun. I inhale a deeper breath, curve my body over hers that’s clad in satin, and fall asleep with her in my arms, with a lingering question.

  What ties does Blaise have to the dangerous mobster Cillian McCabe?

  22

  Blaise

  I pace in front of the door. It’s Friday night, and I’m waiting for Maddox to get home from work. Hopefully he gets here first before Cillian and his men do. I would like to kiss him goodbye before leaving.

  The doorbell rings the same time my phone in my purse chimes. I glance at the monitor in anticipation of feeling Maddox’s warm mouth on mine. To my disappointment, it’s Cillian. I check my messages. There’s one from Maddox.

  Maddox: Remind Cillian I will cut off his junk if he breaks his promise

  I bite down on my nervous smile. How can I convince the men to be civil to one another? More is at stake here than egos. My connection to Cillian could affect Maddox’s business. I would never want to rob him of the source of his wealth. I return his message.

  Me: I will. TTYL

  Maddox: That’s all u have for me?

  I send him an emoji blowing a kiss.

  Maddox: That’s better

  The doorbell rings again. Men and their impatience.

  I open the door, and glancing back at the safety I’m leaving behind, I follow Cillian to the elevator. We take the ride down to the lobby in silence. I don’t blame him. There are cameras everywhere, and where there are eyes, there must be ears listening in on our conversation.

  Should I feel safe or intruded upon that someone shared the image of me and Granger with Cillian? Which begs the question, is one of Maddox’s men working for Cillian?

  At the lobby, large men wearing dark suits greet us. They surround us the moment we step out of the elevator. Cillian grabs ahold of my arm and leads me to the blacked-out SUV parked in front of Maddox’s building. His men are my shield from the paparazzi waiting by the line of SUVs with cameras in hand.

  Once we’re inside the SUV and the doors are closed, his security detail packs into the SUVs parked behind and in front of the one we’re in. I don’t say a word until we’re on the road.

  “Did you tip off the media?”

  “Guilty.”

  “Why?”

  “Gotta give the world something to talk about. Imagine the headlines, sweetheart. The Reclusive Blaise Lexington Canoodling with the Scarred Lord of the Underworld.”

  “You acknowledge your connection to the mob?” I shift in my seat and look at him, amazed he’s admitting rumor to be truth.

  “A matter of semantics. I’m a businessman.”

  “Who uses intimidation and violence to get his way.”

  “You have proof, sweetheart?”

  There’s a sharp edge in his voice.

  “None.” I return to my initial pose, staring forward with my gloved hands clasped in my lap. I must remember that Cillian McCabe is a dangerous man.

  “Good. Keep it that way. Otherwise, I will not welcome you into our family, Blaise.”

  “Come again?”

  “You heard me. You are my child.”

  “My father—”

  “We were business partners.”

  “I couldn’t care less what you were to him. He did not steal me from you and my . . . my mother.”

  “You’re right. He would never dare take you away from me. Otherwise, I would’ve slit his throat from ear to ear. No, sweetheart, he graciously offered to take care of you. You see, men with more firepower and manpower had set me in their sights, and no way in hell will I let harm come to my children.”

  Children. Plural.

  “How many of us are there? Did you give them up too? Did our mothers have a say?”

  “Three, sweetheart. Yes, I did. Cassandra and Julia didn’t have a say. They were murdered.”

  Two women. Three offspring.

  “Was I a twin?”

  “No.”

  Then who was in the coffin with me?

  “Are you positive?”

  “One hundred percent. I was in the delivery room when your mother, Cassandra, had you.”

  “Where are my siblings?”

  “One you know well. My other child is dead.”

  “W–Was her name Maya?”

  Faster than I can blink, he grasps my jaw and forces me to look him in the eye with a forceful yank that makes my head spin.

  “How do you know that?”

  “My kidnapper. He buried me alive with her corpse.”

  “Fuck. Fuck.” He lets go of my jaw. “I’m gonna skin that bastard alive.”

  “You know who he is?” I rub at the ache he’s left behind. His hold was like a vise.

  “No. If I did, he’d be six feet under the ground, rotting like the POS he is.” He runs his palms on his slacks over and over.

  I follow the movements, mesmerized. Cillian touched my skin with his bare hand, and I wasn’t revulsed. Why not? Is it because I didn’t have time to anticipate or react to his temper?

  “When did he tell you this?”

  “A week ago.”

  “Fuck me.” Cillian jams his fingers in his hair.

  This is not good. It’s so not good when a mobster is scared shitless.

  His next words are for the guy in the front passenger seat. He’s been listening intently. Same with the driver. I’ve caught him checking me out in the rearview mirror.

  “Send a message to Six. I need him and his old lady’s help.”

  “Got it, sir. And the rest of the family?”

  “No need involving them yet or else we risk them burning the city to the ground searching for this motherfucker.” He addresses me next. “Excuse my language, sweetheart.”

  What am I supposed to say to that? Thanks for being considerate of my feelings, Dad, but touch me again and I’ll sucker punch you in the throat? God, where is this violent side of me coming from? I’m
not a violent person. What I am, though, is pissed.

  “Why did my sister die? You said you wouldn’t let any harm come to your children. Why didn’t you protect her? And who is this sibling I know well?”

  He must be speaking of Granger, but I need him to admit it. I swear the necklace I stole from Granger the night he chased me down straight into the crossfires of a drive-by shooting is the same necklace I remember seeing around Cillian’s wife’s neck. Cassandra, my biological mother, was Cillian’s lover.

  To love and have a wife and a lover in addition to being a father to both women’s children, will I be in the same predicament if I stay with Maddox? Cillian very much loves the women as much as they love him, and marriage wasn’t enough to tame his wilder side. If Maddox decides to take a lover, will I be okay with that?

  I doubt I will be. I would rather leave him than share him with another woman.

  “Do you have to ask, Blaise? Do you think the meeting with Granger was pure chance? Did you think you getting shot was a matter of wrong place, wrong time? No, sweetheart. I gave the order for my best marksman to get in the shot.”

  “You purposefully shot me?”

  My hand shoots out and my palm smacks skin. There’s a resounding smack. Cillian covers his stinging cheek.

  “My girl’s got her dad’s temper.” He smirks. “I’m proud of you, sweetheart. Keep those hits coming. We need to toughen you up. Someday, you and Granger will inherit my piece of the McCabe empire. My children will rule the underworld next to their cousins. First off, we send a clear message. No one messes with a McCabe.”

  “And how will you go about doing that?” I almost added “Daddy dearest.” Puke. I cannot believe my father ordered his men to deliberately shoot me in the back.

  Will he stab me in the back in the proverbial sense? Or can I put my trust in a mobster who couldn’t keep my sister safe? When push comes to shove, will Cillian sacrifice my life so that he can live?

  “You didn’t tell me why Maya died. How could you live with yourself knowing you gave up on her when she needed you the most?”

  “That’s the thing. I regret and am remorseful every day that I wasn’t there for her. But Maya made her choice. She didn’t want to come home, Blaise. She said she loved him and he loved her. Except he wasn’t in love with her. He was obsessed with having you, and Maya was the next best thing.”