Their fault, or Ronan’s. In my mama’s eyes, I’d always wanted to be perfect.
“Don’t you mama me.” A plump finger wagged my way. “I know the sort of businesses you run, and I see photos of you with women online. You think because I’m old that I don’t use social media? How else am I supposed to know what you’re doing when you don’t come around for Sunday lunch?”
“I’ll come over on Sunday, I promise. I’ll even get the whole family to stop by. Just stop looking me up online.”
“Marissa’s daughter is back in town. She finished university in Melbourne and has come home to a good job in the city. She’s a lovely girl, good family.”
“Mama, I’m sure she’s a lovely girl but I’m not interested.”
Of course I remembered Melania from language and culture classes. Every Saturday morning, all the Lebanese kids had been dropped off to church for two hours. Learning all about our culture and heritage. Hours we thought wasted at the time, but now I could look back on with fond nostalgia. I wondered if Katie had been to similar classes. Could we have more things in common?
“I want grandbabies before I’m too old to enjoy them.”
“Mama, I’ve met someone.” The words spilled before I could stop them. I’d never introduced mama to any girlfriend, not even in high school. Just admitting Katie existed was a huge step, but as I heard my admission, my smile couldn’t hide the truth.
“Ibrahim!” Mama froze, mid-sentence and mid thought. Even the kitchen staff seemed to stand still. Only the sound of frying lamb kebabs with the scent of garlic, cumin seeds and harissa sauce filled the kitchen and awakened my stomach.
“Mama, don’t worry about me. I’ve met someone and we’re taking things slowly.”
“Do we know her family?” Typical mama, wanting to compare family trees.
“Not that I know of.”
“How did you meet? I mean, I’ve seen the women you party with.”
“Mama!” I could use the term, but hearing it come from her pure lips made it sound cheap and dirty.
“Well?” She gave me the look. The one that could have me confessing crimes I hadn’t thought about committing, at least, not yet.
“She works at The Club.” I waited for mama’s reaction, nothing. “Katie is a hostess, one of the best. She’s got a way of making people feel good about themselves, she’s always putting the other staff first. When we had some problems with CandyShop, Katie made a big deal on social media to bring back customers.”
“The police thing?”
My innocent mother knew more than I wanted her to know.
“Yeah, anyway, Katie is—” I wanted to say living with me, but couldn’t. I wanted to tell mama about the kidnapping and why I had to move Katie into my home to protect her, but couldn’t. I wanted mama to see the Katie I knew, without judging her based on lack of family connections or her employment.
“Ibrahim, when was the last time you introduced me to a girl?”
“I, ah—”
“You never have. The girls I meet have all been young women who appear on my doorstep looking for you.”
“There was never someone serious.”
“Before?” My mother finished. Nodding, I felt like I was sixteen and caught making out with my cousin’s best friend at a wedding. To be fair, we’d only been caught because one of the bridesmaid’s had felt rejected.
“Katie is special.”
“But she works for you.”
“Which makes things complicated,” I smiled, wishing that was the only complication. “Which is also why we’re taking things slowly.”
Telling mama that Katie had her whole wing of my house probably wouldn’t support my protest.
“Ibrahim, if you think she’s special, I’m sure the family will welcome her with open arms. When will we meet her?”
“As soon as the lady is sure that she’s met someone special.”
With a kiss and hug, I took the brown paper bag filled with fragrances from my childhood and made my escape. Not knowing what I’d expected from the visit but admitting Katie to mama certainly hadn’t been planned. An escalation in a relationship that so far, had been measured in a handful of kisses and months of wet dreams.
But yes, I could imagine Katie joining us for Sunday lunch. Meeting my brothers, teasing their wives, playing with my niece and nephews. I couldn’t wait to brush flour from her face as she tried to beat me at pastry making.
Even more naturally, I could imagine Katie filling our home with children. Girls with her blonde hair, and boys who would one day play football for Australia. Then again, my smile grew wider, knowing Katie, the girls would be the brilliant business leaders or sports stars of our family while the boys would be loveable rogues.
“Honey, I’m home!” I announced to Grizz’ nod.
“Boss.”
“Anything happen while I was away?”
“Karnal’s guys have the other girl stashed away. Rex will be here in about an hour to relieve me.”
“Any noise on the street?”
“Only that something big is going down and people are picking teams.”
“Kingsmen?”
“You got a lot of credit for the clubs and trying to broker peace.”
“You didn’t answer my question. Luther and I go way back, but I know this is business. Where do the Kingsmen sit?”
“At the moment, we’ve got your back. The Redbacks too.”
“Wharfies?”
“They do a lot of business with Garrison. Trust who you know.”
“Thanks.”
Fuck. Damn. Fuck again.
I could probably convince some of the nervous Nellies to give me a couple more weeks of support before Garrison made his move. “Will the Kingsmen give me any notice if they change their minds?”
“It’s up to Luther.”
Fuck.
At least Grizz respected me enough to be honest. Hopefully, Luther valued our history enough to either give me a heads up or watch from the sidelines. I didn’t want to take on old friends. My new enemies were more than a handful.
Leaving Grizz to the monitors and television, I fought the urge to go upstairs and check on Katie. If she was asleep, I’d probably watch her from the end of her bed, like a creepy stalker. If she was awake, well, no good intentions would stop me.
I emptied the food containers onto oven-proof dishes. No matter how hard I tried, my cooking could never meet mama’s lofty standards. She claimed her special ingredient was love, but it had to be her technique. In any case, after mama offered, I’d accepted half a dozen dishes from chef. Enough to feed me, Katie, Grizz and anyone else who dropped by.
“A Lachlan Marriot is at the front gate,” Grizz said, stopping at the sight of all the food. “Boss, wow. Are you expecting an army?”
“Decided to get some take-away.” Poor Grizz looked like he’d commit murder if I didn’t share. Deciding to put him out of his misery, I asked, “Hungry?”
“Yeah, Mr. Marriot—let him in or send him away?”
“Let him in. I’ll be in the lounge room in a second.”
“The girl’s still asleep, in case you were about to check.”
“Thanks.”
Knowing I shouldn’t risk seeing for myself, I decided Lachlan waiting for me downstairs would stop me from doing anything stupid. Not bothering with a response, I jogged up to the first floor.
To knock? How hard? What if she was asleep?
Tap. One, soft tap. Not enough to wake her but—
“Yes?”
“It’s me,” I hesitated, “Ibby. Can I—”
“Come on in.”
“Hey, sweetheart.” She looked so small and vulnerable in the large bed. Okay, inviting and sexy as hell. “You get some sleep?”
“I think so, what time is it?”
“Almost six. I’ve got some food reheating, if you’re up for it.”
“Sounds good. Can I do anything to help?”
“How about you grab
a shower, Janet dropped off a couple of bags with clothes.” Two suitcases and a bag of shoes had been placed outside her bedroom door. Like a gracious host, I lay the bags on the end of her bed, zippers facing Katie so she could open them without getting up. “Are you up to a shower?”
“Yes, I feel like I’ve slept for a week.”
“Then take your time, shower, and I’ll see you downstairs.”
“Ibby?”
Damn, she was beautiful and now I knew how her face would look in the morning. Slightly puffy, half shut eyes. Blonde curls paying no heed to styling.
Perfect.
I’d undersold Katie to my mother. I didn’t give a rat’s ass about her past boyfriend as long as he stayed in her past. I even hoped one day to introduce myself to her father and ask for his permission to upgrade Katie from girlfriend to—wife.
Damn, I was going to hell.
Kisses. We’d only had kisses and already I was rehearsing how I’d ask her father?
First, I needed to upgrade our relationship from friends and working to—whatever she wanted. No more pulling back and hiding behind excuses. Garrison had already made his play. Time for me to make mine.
The bastard took her as a pawn.
I wanted to give her a future.
“What, sweetheart.”
“Do I get another kiss?” No guile. She sat up, the blanket to her chest. Beautiful. Sexy.
My cock wanted to leap across the room.
My brain wanted to go downstairs and find out why Lachlan had driven away from his eastern suburbs’ civilization. One would make Katie and I happy. The other might give me information to keep her safe.
“Oh, babe,” I moaned, staying firmly near the doorway. “I’ll give you a lot more than kisses if you keep looking at me like that.”
“Promises, promises.”
The flight of stairs wasn’t enough to cool my erection. Hell, there wasn’t enough cold water in an ocean to make my cock behave.
By the time I got downstairs, Lachlan stood in yet another tailor-made suit, polished dark brown shoes and a surly expression. Ignoring Grizz who physically took up half the living room, Lachlan filled the remainder with confidence and ego.
Luckily, he was usually on my side.
“Heard life got a little interesting last night. Sorry I wasn’t in town to join in the action.”
“You don’t know the half of it.”
While pouring Lachlan two fingers of scotch, I filled him in. “Between Garrison’s goons thinking they own my nightclubs, to their egotistical and entitled attitude at The Club, I was already losing money, hand over fist. Now, I’m losing my shit in real time.”
“What do you want me to do?” If Lachlan didn’t have answers or ideas, he’d be avoiding me. Not turning up on my doorstep, unannounced.
“I need out. I need an exit strategy.”
“He’d have been counting on his retail trade going for a lot longer. If you try and shut him down, there’s gonna be a backlash.”
“Thanks for not trying to roll my turd in sugar. I screwed things up at our last sit down.” Admitting failure had never been my strongest suit. But now wasn’t the time for false bravo or modesty. “I let it get personal and he probably, no he did, take offence. He feels disrespected and I don’t know how to make it right.”
“Do you want me to talk to him?”
“Have you got any sway?” Lachlan had perfected his Mr. Seventeen Percent look, but this would come at an additional cost. He might need to burn some bridges to save my ass. Worth double the price if it would make the whole Garrison issue go away. Triple if it allowed Katie to feel safe, be safe.
“I can try, but what’s your Plan B?”
“Right now, I don’t have one.”
Katie
As much as she could be a hard-nosed and self-centered bitch, Janet knew me too well and had made assumptions about my relationship with our boss.
Not that I was complaining.
I’d asked for a couple of days’ worth of clothes. I’d even suggested she just empty my washing basket into a bag—all my washing was clean, just not ironed or put away.
Janet had gone to the extra effort.
Packed within all my comfy sweatpants, oversized jumpers and street wear was a navy blue, bodycon dress. Purchased online in a moment of madness, and never worn, it could be the perfect way to con Ibby into forgetting his stupid rules.
From memory, it hugged tightly from the curve of my ass, to show off my tiny waist, and cupped the breasts that Chelle had once described as my money-makers. The deep color only accentuated the darkness of my eyes and eyelashes and offset nicely against my pale skin.
I held the dress against my body, not quite ready to make the decision.
If I left the bedroom in comfortable clothes, still looking like the woman who’d spent all night on a concrete floor, then Ibby would never let himself go further than kisses. He’d put me back in the box of employee and victim. Yes, the excuses would be about protecting me, allowing me time to rest and heal. Blah, blah, blah. As if I was going to get any sleep tonight knowing he was probably lying naked on the other side of his home.
But, if I walked out in the dress, the risk was worse. Ibby had finally started to drop the playboy, nightclub king act. If I went downstairs in a dress with only one intention, could he see me as he had any other woman—fun for one night and then forgotten by morning?
Cupping my breasts in the long mirror, I remained torn. Craving Ibby’s touch. Hell, I’d wanted him since the moment he interviewed me as a hostess. The spark I felt even back then erased my nerves about becoming homeless and disowned.
Yes, I blushed at my innocent stupidity, I’d tried making Ibby jealous by throwing my natural assets Darius’ way, but it was only when I’d relaxed, Ibby noticed.
Katie Elias. Not Kathryn or Katherine. Never Kathy or Kat. Just a girl who’d been able to make men melt since she was fourteen with a lick of my lips.
For all my father’s scorn and mother’s warnings, I’d only lost my heart twice. One of those men kissed me for the first time, today.
It wasn’t really a choice.
Slipping the dress over my head, I had to shimmy it around my hips. Checking the stretched fabric in the light, making sure the fabric hadn’t become thin and see-through.
The girl in the mirror started to transform. The nap had been therapeutic, and I wanted to feel like myself. Happy, spontaneous, fun. Fluffing out my wild and unbrushed hair, I didn’t care about the tangled curls, or makeup. Ready to pad out to the main area in bare feet, I remembered we had Grizz somewhere in the house and ducked back into the room to grab Ibby’s big jacket.
One last look in the mirror, I blew myself a kiss for good luck.
“You’ve got this, Katie. Time to introduce the real you to a real man.” I only hoped Ibby was ready for the real me, with all my complicated family drama, no money but already in love.
“Where’s our bodyguard?” I’d decided against running down the stairs to find Ibby, but he wasn’t in the living room to see my graceful entrance. Neither was Grizz. I tried not to let the absence of the bear of a man scare me. If Grizz wasn’t here, someone else would be. Ibby had promised.
“Around. He doesn’t have a routine, just turns up when I least expect him.”
I followed the sound of Ibby’s voice which grew stronger with the wafts of cinnamon and cardamon.
Working feverishly between the microwave, two saucepans on the stainless-steel cooktop and oven, Ibby didn’t have time to look up and give me his first reaction to the dress.
It didn’t matter. His black casual trousers hugged his legs up to an ass that I needed to feel for myself. How many squats and lunges did it take to fill those pants? In his white, crew neck t-shirt, even the spatters of sauce couldn’t take away from his perfect form. Arms that didn’t need to flex to shuffle pans around. One long black strand from his fringe had dropped across his eyes.
I didn’t need food.
I needed Ibby to notice me and hope I had the same effect on him.
“Two seconds,” Ibby finally looked up and rewarded my dropping of his jacket to reveal the dress with an exaggerated double take. “Let me get the dish out and we can start serving—”
Strong fragrances of garlic, cumin, and chilli hit me with the opening of the oven door. I might as well have been physically hit by the door for all it hurt. Flashbacks to winter nights cuddled around a small heater dipping flatbread into freshly made hummus and fighting with my cousins over the last shawarma. Instantly, I was back in grandmother’s kitchen, helping her role falafels. My beloved Teta had insisted on teaching me her way as better than my mother’s.
Just as suddenly, bouts of shame engulfed me. The shame I’d felt when baba announced to the family that my then boyfriend refused to enslave himself in marriage. The loneliness I’d carried with me every day since my family took away my right to call them that.
I clutched at the doorframe to stop myself from shaking, but it was only when Ibby almost dropped the warmed serving platter in his rush to come to my side that I noticed the tears. At least I hadn’t put on makeup to ruin.
“Katie, what’s wrong?” Ibby rushed to my side, guiding me towards the breakfast bar stools. “Here, come and sit down.”
“No, nothing’s wrong. It’s just—” How could I explain so he’d understand? Family had meant everything to me, until I realized their pride was greater than paternal love. “I haven’t smelt home cooking like this since baba, my daddy, ordered me from his house.”
“Sweetheart, oh, sweetheart.”
Hunger swirled within my other raging emotions. Scents from my childhood heightening what should have been a nice dinner with promises of things to come. Standing in bare feet, I felt small yet protected.
Physically, this man would never hurt me.
Emotionally, he could destroy. Simply by rejecting me. If Ibby looked at me the way my father had, reminding me that good girls need to save themselves—
My shaking hands only calmed when Ibby clasped them together, pressing my fingers to his lips. Kissing each tip, his tongue gliding over my nude painted nails.
Hard Bargain: a Billionaire Suspense Romance (City Sinners Book 3) Page 11
