PROLOGUE
AISLING
Five Years Ago
Heart in my throat, I stand outside Portentia’s, my knee-length Burberry-plaid peacoat clutched tightly across my chest as I stare through the smoky glass doors into the dimly lit blue-neon space beyond.
Even from the sidewalk, the club looks chic yet foreboding, the gateway to a world of devils dressed in fine Italian suits.
A shiver runs down my spine when I think about what waits on the other side of those doors.
And yet, the red carpet leading up the stairs to the gold door handles beckons me forward, daring me to find out.
I can’t believe I’m doing this.
What the hell was I thinking, sneaking out to come alone to asex club,of all places?
As if in answer to my question, my mind calls forward the sound of Kelly and Hannah’s tittering giggles in the kitchen yesterday morning.
“I’ll tell you, that kind of pleasure is worth allowing a man to ruin you over,” Kelly said, her eyes rolling emphatically into the back of her head.
“Oh, please,” Hannah jibed, kneading the bread dough harder against the counter. “Like your virtue was ever in danger at Portentia’s. We both know you’re an even bigger slut than I am.”
Kelly laughed openly at that, her wide smile brightening her warm brown eyes. “Yeah, but with anItalian? That was a first. And we both know the Murrays would be horrified if they ever found out.” Her voice dropped conspiratorially, her eyes glancing around the empty space as if in search of any eavesdroppers—like myself.
She and Hannah might be just a few years older than I am, but I’m well aware of the gap in our experience of the real world, and I’m ashamed to admit it’s not the first time I’ve listened in on the girls who work in the kitchen.
Generally, I would like to consider them my friends, and for the most part, they treat me like I’m one of them.
But sex talk is where they draw the line, and I know it’s because of who I am.
Who my parents are.
God forbid anyone say something that might tarnish the young, impressionable daughter of Callum Murray.
She might—gasp—getideas. Discovermature feelings. And even if the great city of Chicago might consider me an adult, I’m fairly confident I’ll be forever branded the Murray family’s baby girl.
“Come on, Kelly. Admit it,” Hannah prodded. “Our Irish boys might know how to fuck, but those Chiaroscuros are downrightgodsin bed.”
Sue me for wanting to know what makes a man godlike during sex, but I nearly growled in frustration when, at that exact moment, Charlie had to blow my cover by greeting me at full volume as he came back into the kitchen.
“What are you doing sculking around doorways, Miss Aisling? Don’t tell me you’re already hungry again. We just finished cleaning up breakfast.”
I could feel the blush creeping up to my hairline as Kelly and Hannah turned in my direction, their eyes widening momentarily.
“I’m not sculking,” I grumbled, knowing I’d been caught red-handed.
A playful smirk curved Kelly’s full lips, and she rose gracefully from her chair. “Well, if it isn’t our perfectly pristine princess,” she said, throwing her arm around my shoulders as she pulled me into the kitchen. “We all know you’re going to make a magnificent Mafia bride someday,” she assured me. “Meanwhile, the rest of us with loose morals will wither into miserable old crones, destined to die alone as ‘damaged goods’.” She emphasized those two last words with an eyeroll.
I know she said it to make me feel included, but it wasn’t lost on me that the topic changed rather abruptly after that, andany more juicy details were abandoned due to my buzz kill of a presence.
Typical.
At eighteen years old, I might not have much experience—okay, let’s be honest, I havenoexperience because I’ve yet to find a man with the death wish it would require to get close to me—but I’m not an idiot.
I know my brothers are to blame.
It’s no secret that they would take a man’s eyes for so much as looking at me the wrong way.
