If someone would’ve told me years ago that I’d be engaged to Delilah Quigley, I would’ve told them they were an idiot. I would’ve said we weren’t compatible and that she was only a friend, but oh, how times have changed. I’m glad the two of us took the plunge and decided to test the waters.
“I love you,” I whisper against her cheek. Delilah’s knocked out, and she should be after the night we had. I couldn’t keep my hands off her, and she couldn’t keep her hands off me. Hell, I thought after a time I’d have to stop, but I pushed through the pain.
I can’t take my eyes off her as I caress down her small chin and neck. My fingertips tingle, and my hand shakes as Delilah’s glory spreads out beside me. The last few days, she’s worked so hard. The exhaustion from it all naturally grips her now. There’s nothing more that I want than for her mess to be over with at work. She doesn’t deserve to deal with this shite. Delilah . . . fuck, she only deserves peace.
I sit up to ruffle my hair, and my eyes are still focused on the image of her. The magnetic attraction of her naked body is undeniable. I’ve explored her so thoroughly but still can’t tear myself away. Rubbing my hand over my mouth, my tongue tingles with the taste of her. Why sleep when I can look at her?
My fiancée. Nothing at the restaurant went exactly the way I wanted it to, but Delilah still said ‘yes’. I’m the luckiest man in the world, and if anyone tells me differently, I’ll gladly challenge them. I have the very thing I thought I wasn’t capable of having—love. The soft moonlight illuminates her face, casts shadows along the rest of the bed, and I throw my legs over the side to head for the bathroom.
But this bubble that surrounds me grows thin in places, and I twist to look at her as worry knits my brows. Delilah hasn’t told me what she’s been doing the last few days. All I could manage to get out of her was that it involved her father and the issues with Knitted Hearts somehow. She didn’t want to ruin the moment with speaking about him, and I understood.
I shake my head before the cold tiles of the bathroom send shocks up my legs. Standing over the toilet, I close my eyes and flop my head back with a slight groan. Palming my cock, I grind my molars as my mind wanders to something decidedly less pleasurable.
Emptying my bladder leisurely, I look back over my shoulder guiltily. Maybe she’ll tell me what she’s been up to today. I hate feeling so useless.
Stumbling out of the bathroom, I shake my head of the bleariness that attacks the backs of my eyes. My phone flashes with an incoming text, and the bright light shines with the time. Fuck, it’s a little after two in the morning. I rub my eyes with my fists as I sit on the edge of my bed. Suddenly, my phone vibrates, and I debate whether or not to answer it as I stare at it. The blinking screen is annoying, and the moment I realize it’s Liam, I know I don’t really have a choice. Ignoring him doesn’t exactly come with the territory.
“Yeah?” I grumble in a raspy voice. I haven’t had a drink in hours, so I sound a bit off. I hold the phone to my ear by balancing it on my shoulder. Grabbing a pair of boxers off the floor, I stick my legs in as a brief silence rings in my ears. “What do you want, Liam? It’s two in the bloody morning.”
“I wasn’t expecting you to answer.” You have to be fucking kidding me. He didn’t expect me to answer? For fuck’s sake. He could’ve just sent a text. Fuck, maybe he’s the one who did. I haven’t even looked at my messages.
“I can hang up.” I almost do as I stand, and he chuckles on the other end of the line. Casting Delilah a look, I leave my room to head downstairs to the kitchen. I don’t want to wake her, and whatever Liam wants to talk about . . . I’ll need a drink to hear, I think. Hell, I need some water for my throat. “What is it? Did you find something on Asim?”
“Not yet.” I scowl darkly as I open the cabinet, pausing as my shoulder starts to throb painfully. Liam’s voice darkens. “I’m still trying to find him. I’m close, though. But no, this is about Cormac.”
“Delilah’s father? You told me not to stick my nose in it, so I haven’t. Delilah will kick my ass,” I declare gruffly. “Did something else happen? He’s still playing the silent game with her. Childish fuck.”
“I don’t care about Delilah being angry with me, so yes, I did look into it.” Liam pauses and clears his throat, and I take the moment to fill a glass with cold water from the refrigerator. The tightness in my mouth and lips eases, and I sigh heavily as I lean against the countertop.
“So? Spit it out. I wanna get back to Delilah before sunrise.” My demand earns me a grumble, and I lift my glass to my lips to take another sip.
“I’ve been looking at Knitted Hearts through a different lens, all of the donors he’s been stealing from,” Liam starts, and the sound of papers flipping in the background flutter through my ears. “If they’re connected to other charities with . . . dubious activities.”
“Let me guess. You found something,” I muse, but there’s no humor in my tone.
“That’s the problem. I didn’t find anything. All the donors Cormac is stealing from are exclusively tied to very strict, non-profit charities with all their services and books in the green.” Liam’s words stiffen my spine and bristle the hairs on the back of my neck. “Even though it’s obvious that Cormac’s been skimming, the only donors he’s stealing from are ones that have legitimate faith in the charities they work with. I find that highly suspicious. Although most charities aren’t scams, to be stealing from only clients that aren’t involved in anything shady strikes me as very odd.”
“I don’t get it,” I confess gruffly and set my glass down to cup my chin. “Why does that matter? If the donors are true philanthropists and not using a charity to launder money or anything, or if it’s just for public image . . . why would Cormac be so selective? Is he only stealing from them because they’re less attentive or something?”
“I believe so,” he says, the trouble clearly audible in his tone. “The specific donors whose money is attached to the fraudulent orders that Cormac uses to syphon money are historically negligent. It serves two purposes. One is there’s usually a fall guy. A secretary or someone who does the management of the project to keep it off the organization, or a person at the top who’s giving. Two is Cormac can claim that it’s a clerical error on the part of the patsy and buy himself time to clean up his books.”
“So, these donors are unwittingly allowing him to steal from them through Knitted Hearts, under the guise the funds are being used for good?” Blood drums in my ears. This is some complicated stuff. Is this what Delilah’s been working on the last few days? Working herself into a frenzy, trying to preserve what she could in case anyone tried to tamper with it? “In protecting themselves from the allegations, they’re also protecting the man stealing from them? That’s pretty damn smart.”
“Also, all the donors are international,” Liam continues steadily, ignoring my questions. “Even though Knitted Hearts itself is under Northern Irish law, the donors are subjected to international red tape. It’s another reason Cormac chose them. Now that I’m looking at it all, I’m thinking that the entire reason for the creation of Knitted Hearts is to launder money. That accountant that did all this under Cormac’s instructions has been there from the beginning. Of course, he’d have to build confidence in his brand, but after a decade of client-building, he’d be more than comfortable setting up this operation.”
“So, Cormac’s got a smart setup,” I start, but Liam cuts me off swiftly.
“I’m not done, hang on, Keenan. Save your questions for the end,” he chides, and I suck in a sharp breath as my face heats in irritation. “I thought it was strange, so I looked deeper. Not only are all the donors clean, but none of them are affiliated with Cormac’s other ventures.”
I close my eyes and pinch the bridge of my nose as Liam continues, his voice monotone and almost droll. “Everyone he’s stealing from has no connection other than Knitted Hearts. Not even an event they both attended. From what I can find, Knitted Hearts is the only connection.”
“That’s strange,” I admit, and Liam grunts in agreement.
“I find it hard to believe, honestly. That there’s not a single tangible connection between Cormac and these donors. And the committee contains not a single representative of these people. Everyone on the panel is associated with Cormac in some way.”
“So they’re covering his arse.” I find I’m too tired to follow Liam’s ramblings, and I pick up my glass to sigh. “Can you get to the point of this? I’m tired, too tired to listen to the details I don’t really understand. Why does any of this matter?”
Irritation thickens my tone, and I empty my glass in one gulp before setting it in the sink.
