“Make it faster,” I snap.
I need to put this fucking place behind me.
Along with the memories of a little blonde bitch with a body like sin. And sticky fucking fingers.
Chapter 6
Emma McErlane
5 weeks later
It’s Versace, and it’s beautiful. Of course, it is. Versace’s always beautiful. And white satin should be virginal, but this is cut to be revealing. Clinging to every curve, plunging between my cleavage. Totally not my style. And in a few months, it’s likely I’m not going to fit into the thing.
“Oh fuck, what the hell do I do now?” I half-groan at the reflection in my mirror. The room behind me seems like it belongs to someone else – frothy and feminine, the way Dad thinks a girl should grow up – I’d always hated that shit. And now my own face seems just as strange. I’m peering at myself from behind a wing of silver-blonde fringe. Feathery tendrils frame my cheeks. The back of my hair is cropped as short as when I arrived here over a month ago. Even though my fucking father absolutely hates it.
Maybe it’s why I wear it this way.
Because he hates it. And because it’s nothing like Mum’s is.
Was.
“Whatever, Em, just keep your shit together, yeah?” I smooth a hand down the front of my dress and suck in a breath. The rush of air in my lungs brings a flood of memories I don’t want to think about. Memories of a hot night with a stranger. Thesense of weightlessness. The heady mix of pleasure, terror, and something else I still can’t understand.
“Ahhhh…” he’d said as he took my breath. “So that’s how it is…”
I’ve fingered myself to climax a hundred times to the memory of those words. Because I’m insane.
Jesus, the guy could have killed me.
He didn’t, though. I knew he wouldn’t somehow – he’d already saved me more than once.
What I didn’t expect, though it was so damned stupid of me, was that he’d knock me up.
“What was I thinking?” I rub my forehead, staring down at the row of fucking pregnancy tests yet again. Every one of them positive. I’d half suspected it a couple of weeks back when my monthly guest was due to arrive – and didn’t. Every day I’d kept hoping…kept telling myself it was just the stress. I’m on the Pill, for fuck’s sake. Though I guess those days in that filthy pit screwed all that up.
I still haven’t told anyone about what happened.
Dad had been beside himself when I’d shown up on his doorstep. Wanting to kill everyone in sight. Demanding answers I couldn’t give him. What was I supposed to tell him? That I accidentally fell into a trafficking ring, then got rescued by a hot guy who fucked me senseless for twelve hours? Until I’d bolted. Of course, I bolted.
Holy fuck, that shit was intense. And then it got worse when I got up to pee and stumbled over his fucking pants. Who could blame me for sneaking a look through his wallet for ID? What girl doesn’t want to know the name of the guy who’s just given her the best sex of her life?
You didn’t tell him your name either, you idiot.
Yeah, right. What would I say? “Hi, I’m Emma McErlane. Only child of America’s most notorious Irish mobster. It’s a pleasure to meet you. Wanna fuck?”
Well, we’d fucked all right. And then I’d gone snooping. Like a fucking fool.
That’s when I’d found the damned ring.
Cunt.
I should have known the tosser would be married. What guy like that isn’t, though? Probably had some nice little woman stuck at home looking after the kids while he was out getting his rocks off.
Well, actually, he was kidnapped by Russians, Em.
Whatever. He didn’t need to spend the night with a strange woman.
Then again, I know I had a role to play in that. I practically demanded that he fuck me. Goaded him into it, if I’m honest with myself. What can I say? I couldn’t help myself. Those stinging slaps on my ass had pushed me to it. I’m a sucker for a bit of slap and tickle; it’s my kryptonite, dammit. He clearly knew his way around that kind of thing. And then he literally took my breath away.
