Page 34 of The Irish Arrangement

Fuck that. Chasing her on the bed was one thing. Letting her think that she had power over me to make me come running after her was something I couldn’t abide by.

But she wasn’t off the hook. I planned to seek her out once more and demand to know what she was mumbling about.

Deal? What deal?

I had no grounds to trust her. Even if I knew her. Even if we weren’t strangers and unaware of all the details that made each other who we were, I had too rugged of a past to be able to give her the benefit of the doubt.

Erin lied to me and cheated on me. Her affair was bad enough. Carrying her lover’s baby was worse. All her lies and duplicity got her killed in the end. And that was an obstacle to my giving my father an heir.

Then Caitlin. She wasn’t any better. She had been my wife for a total of three months before she killed herself. During that time, she'd lied to my face and pretended that she was a woman capable of having this life with me. In the beginning, she’d shied away from me and my touch, claiming through tears that I was too rough with her. She'd manipulated me and convinced me that she was able to handle my brutality, though. I didn’t know how to be soft or delicate. I was a hard man, and I fucked accordingly. My dark soul only operated that way.

Caitlin told me that she was competent to be a Mob wife, but she wasn’t. She'd killed herself, too afraid to be honest about her mental health. I inquired about her health. Our private doctor asked about her wellbeing when he checked on her while tracking her fertility. When asked, she flat-out lied and gave no indication of a mental health issue. Had she been honest, I would have paid for the best help to get her the care she needed. But no.

Dishonesty was a similarity in the women I chose to be my bride.

If Cara was trying to be my third strike, if she had any plans to fuck me over, I had to learn about them now, not later.

Asking her about what deal she mentioned would have to wait.

Ian found me just after I’d dressed. The news he had to share wasn’t welcome.

At my scowl, he shook his head. “I know, I know. The timing is lousy.”

“I just got back from the city,” I told him.

“And I know you need to be here, near Cara.”

Not near her. In her.

“But the men are asking for you.”

I shook my head, sighing.

Our enemies always preferred to deal with me directly, and the Sullivan men knew better than to try to stand in my place. On one hand, I preferred this because I never minded being the one to kill our rivals and teach the idiots in the criminal world a lesson.

I thrived on violence. And I was good at delivering it.

But on the other hand, after the long week I'd had, I wanted a break.

So much for getting some fucking sleep.

I didn’t bother telling Cara goodbye. Conversations between us didn’t seem to go smoothly, and I didn’t think she needed to be told where I was. All I needed to know was that she would be waiting here for me while I saw through this newest episode of business in the city.

Over the next few days, I realized my wife was not only a presence at my home that I could return to.

She was also on my mind.

Every day and night that passed and I was kept in the city, my aggravation grew.

I still wanted to know what she was talking about with that deal. She made it sound like she’d only married me because of a deal. Our deal? I recalled shaking her hand after the claim that I’d let her go in six months. I wouldn’t. I’d never give her up. She would live and carry my baby.

Did she mean that she couldn’t take that many more months of me?

I imagined she might bore and tire of the isolation at the estate home, but I couldn’t trust her to know she wouldn’t run.

And at any rate, she showed me how much she wanted my company and my touch. So sexy and open, vulnerable and mine for the taking.

I couldn’t stop the memories of how damn good she’d felt. How sweet her tight cunt felt gloving my cock. How beautiful her cries sounded to my ears.

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