Page 91 of Redeem Me

My mind returns to the yacht. Jesus, anyone with a drone or a long lens could have photographed us together. It’s one thing telling Dermot I’m with his sister, and another thing for him to see it in high definition.

Guilt snakes into my stomach. I had five missed calls from him over the last week. I couldn’t bring myself to call him back. Couldn’t be sure my voice wouldn’t betray me. That I’ve been eating his kid sister like she’s my favourite dessert and wearing her like she’s my favourite fucking outfit.

Damon stops at the gate, glancing between Ivy and me in the rearview mirror. ‘Would you prefer if we kept driving for a while? Samuel can arrange for Mr Winters to return tomorrow if it’s easier.’

I flick my head round to meet Ivy’s gaze. ‘Are you ready?’

Dermot is pacing up and down the drive with a thunderous expression on his face.

She blows out a breath. ‘Fuck it. Let’s do this.’ A horrified look crinkles the corners of her eyes. She clamps her hand over her mouth, glancing at the kids. They’re still engrossed in their tablets, thankfully, it’s not the first time they’ve heard the F-bomb.

Damon drives up to the front of the house, parks next to Dermot’s BMW, and ushers Orla and Owen into the house where Samuel is waiting for them. The ginger furry beast bounds from the house and charges towards the kids. My breath catches for a second as I wait for her to knock themover, but for a creature that size, she’s surprisingly gentle with them, leaping around and licking their faces as they squeal out their delight.

If only Dermot would give us such a warm welcome. Judging from his pacing, he is furious.

I help Ivy out of the car while Damon covers my back, ready for anything.

‘There you are!’ Dermot shouts, glaring at Ivy.

‘What’s the problem?’ I step in front of her, sheltering her from her brother’s wrath.

‘I’ve been trying to call you all week. I was worried sick.’ His eyes sweep over her, like he’s looking for scratches or bruises. He’d have better luck finding them on my back. My woman has a habit of digging her claws into me when she’s close.

‘She was working,’ I tell him. ‘You don’t have to worry about her when she’s with me. I’d never let anything happen to her.’

‘You thought that about Isabella too,’ an invisible devil on my shoulder reminds me. I swat it away. Lightning doesn’t strike twice.

Declan and Jack O’Connor are behind bars. The other brothers fled the country. Their assets are still frozen, so they have no funds for retaliation. After Isabella’s death, I doubled security around here as a precautionary measure for the children. Ivy issafe with me.

Dermot’s shoulders visibly relax. ‘I know I shouldn’t worry about her when she’s with you, but you seem to have forgotten how a phone works, too,’ He looks at me pointedly for a long beat, but the anger has dissolved from his voice.

‘I’ve been snowed under with work,’ I tell him, motioning for him to go into the house. ‘So much bureaucracy and legal bullshit. Thankfully, I found a mayor who wasn’t averse to helping oil the wheels, for a price.’

‘Glad to hear it.’ Dermot wraps an arm over Ivy’s shoulders, walking her up the steps. The dog and kids rush in ahead of us. ‘How are you getting on? Did you enjoy Portugal? Is Caelon being good to you?’

‘He’s not being too bad.’ She twists her head and winks slyly at me. ‘Oh, Roxy, I’ve missed you!’ she coos, rubbing the dog as she passes her in the hallway.

‘Good, because I’d hate to have to fuck him up for not treating you right,’ Dermot grunts.

Liz is in the kitchen preparing dinner. The kids settle on the couch with their tablets and the dog rushes towards me, slobber foaming from her mouth. Gross.

‘Go away.’ I shoo her with my hands.

‘I thought you hated dogs.’ Dermot frowns as Roxy ignores my attempts to dismiss her. She’s as defiant as Ivy, but nowhere near as loveable.

I grab three beers from the fridge. ‘Let’s drink these on the patio,’ I suggest, determined to get Dermot as far away from my kids as possible in preparation for the beating he’s liable to give me before this evening is over.

Dermot sits on the outdoor sofa. Ivy sinks into the seat beside him, and I take the armchair opposite. I can’t trust myself not to accidentally touch her the way I’ve grown accustomed to doing.

‘How was Portugal?’ Dermot asks Ivy.

The damn dog pads out, sniffs the air, then pees on the patio. I shake my head at Ivy, who lets out a laugh and a shrug.

‘It was way more fun that I imagined.’ She sips from her beer bottle and as she tilts her head back to swallow, I catch a glimpse of a shadow on her neck. Another fucking hickey. One I put there last night.

Oh fuck. Her hair mostly hides it. My eyes snap to herwrist where she perpetually keeps a hair tie. I pray she doesn’t decide to use it.

‘Did you think any more about going back to college?’ Dermot cocks his head towards me. ‘Did you know Ivy’s thinking about studying for a degree,’ Dermot says, peeling the label from his beer bottle with his thumb nail.

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