Page 18 of Redemption

I nod. “Waiting for the rain to slow a bit before walking home.”

“Whiskey then?”

“You know me too well, Luigi.”

“Not well enough, Mira.”

I bite my lip and close my eyes. “Not happening.”

“It’s worth a shot.”

“And it’s never worked for you.” The man has been asking me out on a date every time we work together for the last three years.

He shrugs as he pours my preferred whiskey into a glass. “Maybe one day you will say yes.”

I sigh. “Maybe you should spend your time chasing after another woman.”

“I chase after plenty.”

I snort. “You are not winning your case here.”

He pours himself a shot and knocks his glass against mine. “I just worry about you and Aria. Don’t you think she needs a father—”

I hold up my hand, stopping him. “No. We are fine on our own.”

Luckily for me the two patrons at the bar wave Luigi over. I know what he was going to say. Just like Magda says, even Salvatore. I need to date. Find a good man. Someone that could be a father to Aria.

Some days I agree with them. But it’s mostly to get them off my back. She has a father. A good man. He just doesn’t know it. And I can’t see anyone except for him being her father.

Even when I thought he was dead, I didn’t want anyone to take on his role. But he isn’t dead. He is very much alive. I saw him in the flesh for the first time in ten years, five days ago. But he doesn’t know.

I look out the window as I slowly sip my whiskey. Watching the rain patter against the old window, the metal frame covered in patina.

I think back to meeting Kilian. That day he walked into the bar I worked at in Dublin. He was a cocky prick. But there was something about him. Something that made me crave his attention. And it wasn’t the fact I got him to buy me hundred-euro whiskey.

He was charming. In a way that most men weren’t that came into the pub. I had just met him but he was already protective of me. I liked the way he called me doll, even when I pretended I didn’t. He practically purred it and that sound went straight to my core.

Just thinking about him now is doing things to me. The way he acted when he broke into my house. And the way he acted when I finally gave him the time of day. They are two different men. But they are both a Kilian I know. A Kilian I used to love.

I wrap my sweater tighter around me. The temperature dropped significantly since I left for school this afternoon. Fall is soon going to turn to winter. I can almost feel the welcoming touch of snow on my skin.

I walk past the pub I work in, it’s a few blocks from Trinity and on my way home. A few people are outside smoking and laughing obnoxiously. The windows are beginning to steam up from the temperature difference outside to inside. I see the fireplace roaring and a handful of patrons sitting around it.

Then I notice him. I know his name is Kilian only from his credit card. We never actually introduced ourselves. Even with him coming into the bar the last four days I’ve been working. As much as I hate to admit it, I like having him there. He drives me wild when he calls me doll. And we argue back and forth the whole time. But I like it. It makes my nights go by. And his presence scares the boys my age away. I’ve seen him scowl at them whenever one lays a hand on my arm or tries to get my number. Kilian always gets my attention right away and finds a way to get me to lean over the bar as he whispers something in my ear. Usually something completely dominant and filthy, trying to break me into telling him I like a dominant man. But I won’t break. He then skims his finger along my jaw or down my arm and every young horny boy in that place stops flirting with me.

I wonder what it would be like to kiss him. Like really kiss him. Not that quick, hard, fast kiss from the first night. But one where we explore each other with our hands. Where his filthy tongue does the things to my mouth that he teases me with words. Maybe even let him do those things he whispers to me. Let him devour my body inch by inch. Feel him pulse inside of me.

I groan as I think about him, my fingers running across my lip as I find myself still standing outside the pub, staring at the man. I wonder if he went there for me tonight.

Before I know it, I am walking into the pub and sitting on the empty stool next to him. Thankful there was a seat. Standing next to him would be too obvious.

I order a drink without looking at him but feel his eyes on me. I try to hide my smile as I talk with the man next to me. A regular that I see weekly since I started. When Sean, the bartender, comes back with my drink he starts talking to me about I don’t even know what. Because Kilian’s eyes being on me has moved to his hand. It sits on my thigh, underneath my long sweater. He doesn’t move it, just leaves it there, with a random circle of his thumb every now and then.

If one touch from this man can cause me to space out, what the hell would happen if I let him kiss me, lick me, fuck me? I probably shouldn’t find out but every single nerve ending in my body is begging me to.

When Sean finally stops talking to me, I nod and turn toward the man that is making my insides turn to mush.

“What are you doing?” I whisper-yell at him.

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