Page 13 of Daring Wicked Love (Wicked Dade #2)

“He’s the very definition of an asshole. Seriously, look it up in the dictionary, I bet his big stupid face is printed beside the word.”

Vodka spewed from Callie’s lips as she choked back a laugh.

Passing her a napkin, I tried to soothe the lingering sparks of anger with my fourth shot of whiskey.

“The guy is clearly fucked up,” Callie said. “But maybe that’s what happens to you when you become a parent.”

I knocked back another shot of whiskey. “I wish I’d taken the broom and whacked him around the head with it.”

Callie tipped her head back with laughter. “As good as that would have felt, don’t you dare. He can’t fire you without a valid reason. Otherwise, he will be breaching his own contract; hitting him is a sure-fire reason for him to sack you.”

“Not if I quit first.”

“Orla,” Callie sighed. “You can’t quit, not now. I get the man is difficult, but you need this job. Maybe chalk it up to him having a bad day? I can’t imagine how scared he must be.”

Whiskey burned the back of my throat.

Maybe I was being overdramatic, after all, Callie was right. Frederic was scared. I could see it in his eyes as he watched Penelope walk down the stairs with her backpack. His whole body shook as the front door closed behind her, no matter how much he tried to hide it from me.

I physically felt the pain radiating off him.

But it didn’t lessen the sting of his words any less.

Where was the man who, without question, flew us down to New York? Who sat up and drank hot chocolate with me until the early hours of the morning?

I thought he was starting to trust me, starting to respect me — starting to like me.

Instead, he showed that I was nothing more than disposable to him, something he could rid himself of without hesitation.

And I refused to be treated in such a way.

“Think of the money.” Callie nudged my shoulder. “And the daughter. You seem to really care for her.”

“She’s amazing,” I said. “I never thought of myself as a kid person, but my gosh, Callie, she is perfect.”

“Fuck her dad then. He sounds like a complete tool anyway. Stay for the kid’s sake.”

I never wanted children. Somewhere along the way, I discovered I lacked that maternal instinct some women were born with.

Maybe it was because of my own childhood with my fucked-up dad, or maybe it was due to the long years with Niamh, putting her first and stepping into a mother-like role, only to have it all thrown back in my face.

Don’t get me wrong, I enjoyed being around children, I just never pictured having one myself.

Even though I’d only known Penelope for such a short period of time in her life, I already adored the girl more than I thought humanly imaginable.

I knew I was only her nanny, but I hoped I would always be her friend too.

The very thought of leaving her birthed a tsunami of unease in the depths of my stomach, threatening my last shot of whiskey to reappear.

Stay for her. Deal with Frederic’s bullshit for her.

“You’re right,” I said, slamming my shot glass down. “Fuck him.”

Callie grinned. “Girl, when will you learn that I am always right?”

“Apologies, oh-wise-one.”

“You’re forgiven. Now come and dance with me.”

Sinking another shot, I let her guide me from our booth to the dance floor. The music humming through the bar worked its magic to loosen the tension clinging to my muscles.

As cliché as it was, I loved coming to O’Malley’s Irish bar.

Maybe it was the sense of familiarity, the little taste of being back home without being there, the perfect amount of nostalgia without the haunting memories of my childhood.

Whatever the reason, it gave me a sense of peace.

Linking arms with Callie, we lost ourselves in the music, giggling as we attempted, poorly, to replicate the Irish dancers on the stage. It had been many a moon since my dancing lessons back home, but alcohol gave me the courage to try anyway.

My legs were going to detest me in the morning.

Callie disappeared to get us another round of drinks just as another song started to play. Not wanting to stop, I grabbed a guy standing nearby and dragged him onto the dance floor with me.

His confusion only lasted seconds before he placed his hands on my hips and pulled me in close to him.

He wasn’t unattractive; on the contrary, he was downright handsome.

Chestnut curled hair that most women would die for, deep green eyes, and a shadowed jawline that begged to be touched.

Yet as his hands maneuvered around my lower back, fingers stroking along my exposed spine from my backless dress, I felt nothing.

No desire.

No sudden rush to jump his bones, despite his hardening cock pushing into my lower stomach.

Instead, all I could imagine was Frederic’s hands on my hips, his fingers on my thighs that day in the swimming pool. The thought of him stroking my spine, tracing the insides of my legs, his teasing touch tracing the lines of my underwear, and discovering the wet patch forming…

My core ached, my thighs rubbing together as I rolled my body against the stranger.

He pulled me closer, his hands dipping close to the seam of my dress, fingertips breaths away from dipping into dangerous territory.

Part of me was tempted to let him. Maybe a good fuck would help clear my head.

“ Excusez-moi, I suggest you remove your hands if you want to keep them.”

Before my dance partner had a chance to respond, his body was removed abruptly from around me.

Fresh cologne, mixed with notes of mint, enveloped me, erasing the lingering scent of cheap vodka.

I knew that scent. My body, despite my mind screaming not to, physically reacted to it.

Finally looking up, I was met by a blue inferno staring down at me.

Everyone else in the bar vanished. My heart broke into a wild gallop that I wondered if he could hear it over the thrum of music.

God, he was such an ass. It wasn’t fair how attractive he was.

Or how my body burst into life with a single touch from him.

“That was rude,” I said. “I was having a lovely time dancing with him.”

His jaw flexed.

“He was cute, too. You’ve just ruined my chances of getting laid tonight.”

Frederic’s nostrils flared, my dress bunching together into his fists as he pulled me flush against him.

“Did you get tired of breaking glasses at home?” I didn’t move away. I blamed the whiskey. “Sorry to be the one to tell you, but I don’t think the bar will let you break any of theirs.”

He said nothing, though the corner of his lips twitched upward.

“If you’re here to threaten me with unemployment some more, I’d rather it wait until the morning,” I continued. “By that time, I should be adequately hungover enough not to listen to you.”

“Hank’s not working tonight,” he finally said. “He won’t be able to bring you back to the house.”

I frowned.

Of all the things he could have said, that’s what he came to say to me? Un-fucking-believable.

“I don’t need Hank.” Attempting to step out of his touch, I didn’t resist when he tightened his grip. “There’s a magical transport system called a cab. It takes people where they want to go for a fee.”

His tongue clicked against the roof of his mouth. “Are you always this much of a brat?”

Whiskey was my new enemy because it was obviously the reason why my core tightened, and my thighs clamped together at the way he called me a brat.

It had nothing to do with images of him bending me over a chair, his hands roaming over my ass and dipping under to tease my wet pussy.

Heat rushed between my legs at the thought of him sinking his fingers deeply into me and finger-fucking me in a dark corner of the bar until I was a dripping mess, all whilst calling me a brat .

I bet his cock would stretch me in all the right ways.

Like I said, whiskey was the devil.

I blinked the thoughts away, resting my hands on his chest. “How did you know I was here, by the way? You’re seriously not helping with the whole stalker thing.”

“You used your work credit card for the magic cab ride.”

“Oopsie,” I said falsely sweetly. “Well, thanks for letting me know about Hank. I’ll be sure to use my own credit card for the ride home.”

“What time will you be leaving?”

“Why?”

“It’s not exactly safe getting a cab by yourself late at night. Without Hank, I thought it best I give you a ride home.”

“I think I can manage just fine without you.”

After another weak attempt to break away, Frederic wrapped an arm around my waist and cemented our bodies together in time with a new song. With one hand on my naked spine, the other found the nape of my neck.

If he weren’t holding me upright, I’d have become a puddle on the ground.

My heart was practically trying to jump out of my chest as he tilted my head up to him.

His lips grazed the shell of my ear. “The real reason I came here wasn’t because of Hank.”

I was unable to move, unable to think, unable to do a freaking thing except focus on how good his breath felt on my skin.

“What I said back in the house, it wasn’t right. It wasn’t fair of me to lash out like that.”

Somehow, I managed to find the ability to nod.

“You didn’t deserve it,” he continued, his thumb rubbing along the nape of my neck. “I guess I came to say… I want to say…”

“You’re sorry?”

His throat bobbed.

“Say it,” I said with newfound confidence. “If you mean it, then say it out loud.”

His tongue rolled along his bottom lip.

It didn’t take a genius to figure out that Frederic was not the type of man who apologized easily.

Back in the apartment building, there was a time Frederic didn’t hold the elevator door open for me.

I knew fine rightly he was pressing the close-door button, but I managed to squeeze in just before it shut.

In the process of barely making it through the tight gap, I spilled my coffee all down my new cream jumper.

He didn’t apologize for that.

Nor did he apologize the time he stormed out the main doors and knocked his shoulder into Nick, who then tumbled into me, causing me to drop my latest canvas onto the rainy sidewalk.

And I was sure those were just the tip of the iceberg.

“You can’t, can you?”

“Orla…” My name rolling off his tongue sent shockwaves right down to the base of my feet.

I inhaled sharply as his palm pressed harder into my spine. “Say you’re sorry, or I don’t forgive you.”

He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For threatening to fire you. I shouldn’t have let my emotions get the best of me. I’m sorry you had to see me like that.”

Despite the liquid confidence fueling me, a seed of pity laced with guilt embedded itself in my chest. Everyone was allowed to be vulnerable and have their moments of weakness without fear of being ridiculed.

However, I didn’t need to be walking around on eggshells constantly, wondering if he was going to sack me because he was in a bad mood.

If this was ever going to work, we needed to find a healthy and functional balance.

“Do you forgive me?”

My job was first and foremost about looking after Penelope. Whatever haunted Frederic was not my responsibility, and the quicker I learned to distance myself from him, the better.

I swallowed against the dryness coating my mouth. “Buy me a drink and I will consider it.”

He rolled his eyes, yet a smile broke across his face, eclipsing all my other thoughts. “What’s your poison?”

“A Manhattan with an extra shot of whiskey.”

So much for keeping him at a distance.

Watching him vanish into the crowd, I feared that when it came to my boss, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to follow my own advice.