I can’t forgive him for what he did to me. I’m relieved he won’t be in the country this weekend. Dominic said it was for his own safety, but I got the distinct impression it wasn’t Rory who the threat came from.
It was my fiancé himself.
He hasn’t said those three mind-blowing words again, but he doesn’t need to. I feel it every night when he curls his body around mine. When he brings me a cup of coffee each morning. When he makes me blush—for all the right reasons.
But despite my best efforts, he’s still refusing to have sex with me. Every morning, he wakes me up with his tongue between my legs. Every night he worships my body like it’s his sole purpose in life. And at some point during the day, he makes a point of finding me, wherever I am in his house and fucking me with his fingers. If he’s out, he calls and commands me to make myself come in front of one of the cameras for him. The man is filthy and I fucking love it.
If I had known how talented he was, I’d have surrendered to his advances immediately.
Okay, that’s not true.
Because at first, I only saw the myth, not the man himself. Dom isn’t the man I thought he was. He’s so much more.
And honestly? I like what I see.
Hell, I think I love it.
The question is, do I love it—him—enough to sign up to a lifetime of it? We’re getting married either way. That’s not in question. What is, is whether we consummate it. And if we do, I’m fucked—literally. There will be no walking away.
But truthfully… I can’t imagine ever wanting to walk away from Dom.
I’m completely and utterly obsessed with him.
But if I stay, I risk losing the only person I’ve ever really had—myself.
If I give myself to Dom, really give myself to him, I’ll never know peace for the rest of my existence. There will always be someone who wants what he has—power, prestige, control. I don’t like what The Syndicate does, but I’ve learnt to respect it.
Despite spending the last four years adamant to build a life away from crime, away from men like him, denying myself is starting to feel like the biggest crime of all. My need for him is escalating like a circling storm building, threatening to break at any second, heavy with promise and danger in equal measure.
I make myself a coffee,then head through to the dining room to make the call I’ve been putting off since I got here. Maybe Abby will talk some sense into me, because I’m increasingly certain that next week, I’m getting married for love—not for protection.
I take a deep breath and dial her number. She answers on the second ring.
‘Hello?’
‘Abby, it’s me.’
‘Aoife?’ She shrieks. ‘Are you okay?’ She demands. ‘The whole city has been searching for you, and your father, for two months. Where are you? Rory’s men ripped your house to shreds. They smashed all the windows in the estate. Ransacked every place you ever worked. Interrogated Mr Michaels at the bar. Threatened Mrs Michaels at the restaurant.’She pauses for a breath. ‘Fuck, Aoife, I’m scared for you. I’ve been worried sick.’
I close my eyes. It’s only what I expected, but hearing it confirmed isn’t helpful. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t want to put you in danger by calling you.’
‘He put a bounty on your head. Anyone who finds you is to bring you directly to his club, alive.’
‘Shit.’ I swallow back the bile rising in my throat, grateful I’ve barely left this heavenly sanctuary.
‘I’m so glad you’re okay.’ She sighs. ‘Where are you?’
‘Safe, that’s all I can tell you. I’m safe. It’s going to be okay,’ I tell my friend, sounding more confident than I feel. ‘I have a plan.’
‘Does it involve emigrating?’
‘Not exactly, but it will ensure my survival.’
‘Go on.’ She sounds dubious.
‘I’ve agreed to get married.’
‘Tohim? You’re going to go through with it?’ Horror hangs on her every word.
