Page 16 of Daring Wicked Love (Wicked Dade #2)

Ha! Fat chance of that happening.

Clearly, my horoscope didn’t understand that distancing myself from the one man who brought chaos to those parts of my life meant quitting my job.

Being around Frederic was like sitting in the eye of a hurricane.

His whole life was a volatile mess. Between fighting to keep Penelope and whatever stress was going on at work, I feared he was one second from unleashing devastation on the world around us.

The man was a walking bag of stress, except for the days he spent at home.

Those were the days he seemed weightless, like the world wasn’t trying to crush him into dust.

I refused to dwell on or give life to the bizarre feelings that bloomed when he was around.

That was a thread I was too scared to pull at — we needed to keep the lines of our relationship strict and in focus.

He was my boss. I was his employee. Simple. Clear cut.

Even though those stupid butterflies in my chest refused to lose their wings whenever he was near. Every time I caught him looking at me when he thought I was busy, my nervous system burst into life.

On the days he was at work, I found myself counting down the minutes after five until he walked through the door just to see him.

His aftershave lingered in every room of the house when he wasn’t around. I was starting to grow accustomed to the aroma and miss it in the rooms where it didn’t exist.

I seriously considered stealing a bottle from his room and spraying it in my bedroom.

Not stalker behavior at all.

No amount of smutty cowboy romances and sleepless nights with my vibrator were able to stop me fantasizing about my boss.

Perhaps I needed to upgrade my old, tried-and-tested vibrator to one with a stronger buzz.

“That should be it up and running,” Gareth, the pool-maintenance man, said. “You’ll need to treat the water weekly, and make sure the filters are serviced at least bi-yearly. Otherwise, it’s going to revert back to a swamp again.”

I saluted. “Yes, sir.”

He chuckled, taking off his baseball cap. “I’ll leave you my card. Any issues, give me a call.”

“Perfect.” I smiled, sliding the business card into the back pocket of my shorts. “You’re a lifesaver, the little woman of the house is going to be so happy when she wakes up from her post-sugar-crash nap. It’s going to be a struggle to keep her out of it.”

“Got a youngster like that myself, can’t keep her out of the water. Only four years of age and already trying to swim without armbands.”

“I have no doubt Pen will be the same way.”

“What age is yours?”

She wasn’t mine, per se, but I saw little need to correct him. “Five,” I beamed.

Gareth ran a hand through his light brown hair.

“I hope this doesn’t come across too forward, but if you’re ever free for a cup of coffee…

Or dinner… I’d, I mean… It’s just you’re not wearing a wedding ring, so I…

” He trailed off, the tip of his nose turning red.

“Shit, I’m really bad at this, aren’t I? ”

Bless him.

I offered him a smile. “You’re not as bad as you think you are.”

“Talking to women has never been my strong suit.” He chuckled nervously. “My late wife used to tease me about the first time I tried to talk to her. A total disaster, but we got there.”

The man couldn’t have been much older than me, maybe three or so years? To have lost a wife, and have a young child left to raise by himself at barely thirty — my heart broke for him.

“Anyway, let’s pretend that embarrassing moment never happened,” he said, clearing his throat. “I’ll get out of your hair. Like I said, call me if you have any problems with the pool.”

“Hold on,” I called, stopping him from walking away. “Coffee sounds good.”

Grabbing a piece of sketch paper, I wrote down my number and handed it to him.

When his fingertips brushed the back of my hand, the breath didn’t whoosh from my lungs like it did with a certain French man, nor did my stomach coil tighter than a spring when he winked at me as he pocketed the piece of paper.

Gareth wasn’t unattractive. He was cute, in a boy-next-door sort of way.

Nothing compared to Frederic.

After he left, I checked on a sleeping Pen before making my way back to the pool. Abandoning my sandals on the way down, I was eager to dip my feet into the newly clean warm water and finish my latest painting, only to be interrupted by my phone ringing.

A withheld number lit up the screen.

The boy’s eager, I’ll give him that.

The butterflies didn’t take flight as I hovered my thumb over the accept button; the little traitors were probably too busy biding their time and waiting for Frederic to come home.

One coffee with the guy wouldn’t hurt, right? It was only coffee, I didn’t have to marry the man.

Plus, it might be nice to at least be friends with him — or maybe friends with certain fuckable benefits to take the edge off.

A quick, simple solution to stop myself fantasizing about my boss.

“You’re keen.” I chuckled lightly. “Usually, a guy waits at least twenty-four hours before calling a woman. Otherwise, he might come across as desperate.”

“Hello, Orla.”

Vomit scorched the back of my throat. That voice was the boogie man from my nightmares, the devil from my past, and the one voice I prayed never to hear again.

My stomach twisted violently. “How the fuck did you get this number?”

“Such language. I raised you better than that.”

“You didn’t raise me at all,” I seethed. “My foster families raised me. They took care of me. You are nothing more than a walking sperm donor.”

He hissed down the phone. “You’ve always been a hateful wee bitch.”

“Guilty as charged.”

“I need your help.”

I scoffed, my whole body physically shaking. “Unfortunately for you, Dad, I am all out of fucks to give for the day. So, let me make this very clear if you ever…”

“Stop.” His voice sliced through me. “You listen to me very carefully. I don’t have time to deal with your usual backtalk. So, shut your mouth and listen.”

I was transported straight back to being six years old, standing in my kitchen with the tears streaming down my cheeks as my father screamed at me. His face beetroot red, his verbal tirade leaving deeper marks than any belt would, all because I spilled a glass of milk.

‘Unwanted.’

‘Disgusting child.’

‘Good for nothing.’

‘Better off dead.’

The brutal echoes of his past words spun their webs through my mind, growing louder every second I remained on the phone with him.

Everyone in Donegal town knew Eamonn McShay as the well-loved, renowned, and respected barrister. But they had no idea what sort of monster he was, how he switched from a loving father in public to a sadistic bastard behind closed doors in the blink of an eye.

Only when the truth came out, when those poor women came forward to tell their truths, did the people of my hometown finally take notice of the devil living amongst them.

Fifteen years was his punishment, a slap in the face to his victims, and somehow, he had wrangled his way out sooner.

“Where’s your sister?”

I fought against the invisible hand gripping around my throat. “Excuse me?”

“Where’s Niamh?” he asked in a low voice. “The two of you thought you were clever changing your surnames, huh? Well, you should have tried harder; finding you wasn’t too difficult. Your sister, on the other hand, I want her number.”

“No.”

“Orla,” he warned. “She’s my daughter. After all the years of you poisoning her against me, it’s only fair I get to talk to her and put my story straight.”

Every part of my body screamed to do what I did best, to run away and hide.

Swallowing harshly, I fought against every single one of my instincts, because the truth was, I wasn’t the scared little girl anymore. I was a grown ass woman, a woman who had endured hell during her childhood and remained standing.

I survived years of verbal abuse.

I survived my sister hating me because I told her talking to the police was the right thing to do for his victims and just as important for us .

I survived taking the stand and supporting the victims in their truth.

I survived years of therapy.

I survived.

“You need to stay away from Niamh.” I fought back the sour taste of fear. “Let me be clear, don’t ever contact me again. If I ever hear from you again, I will contact the police and have a restraining order slapped on you faster than you can blink.”

I hung up and ran out into the back garden, where I dropped to my knees and emptied the contents of my stomach onto the grass.

They say children have a sixth sense when it comes to the important adults in their lives.

Penelope spent the whole afternoon making me laugh. She didn’t jump headfirst into the swimming pool after her nap like I thought. Instead, she insisted on putting on a show for me in the glass sunhouse.

And gee whizz, she went all out.

There was music and dancing. Hell, at one point, there was a full costume change for her rendition of Swan Lake, a show I was pretty sure she’d never seen before but knew it involved ballerinas.

Forever a participating audience, I was more than happy to join her on her makeshift stage and dance along with my very own tutu. She even let me wear her prized glittery pink one, a privilege reserved for me alone.

She chased away the darkness shrouding my mind, my father’s haunting words, and the warning messages I sent to Niamh, with every giggle and every smile.

If it was at all possible, I adored Penelope more by the second.

“Do you think my daddy will let me live here forever?” she asked as we took a much-needed break.

The question caught me off guard, but I schooled my expression. “Do you want to live here forever?”

“I think so.” The line between her brows deepened. “I still want to see Mama, though.”

“No one would try to stop you from seeing her. Your daddy wants you to spend time with her as well as him.”

“But how will I see Daddy if I move to New Zealand? I saw it on a map. If I live there, it’s too far away, he won’t be able to see me.”

Lowering to my knees before her, I tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. “There isn’t anywhere in this world that would be too far for your dad to come and see you, trust me.”

“But what if…” Her bottom lip trembled. “What if he forgets about me because I am too far away?”

My heart cracked in two.

I willed the tears to remain firmly within my eyes. “Impossible, Pen. No one would ever forget you, especially not your dad.”

“You’ll stay here too, right? You will stay here with him and make sure he doesn’t forget about me?”

I blinked, letting a tear escape as I wrapped my arms firmly around her. “As long as you need me, I’ll be right here.”

She buried her face into the crook of my neck as she crawled onto my lap.

I wasn’t sure how long we stayed that way, but I refused to let her go.

A knock on one of the glass panes made us both look. Standing outside was a man who looked like Frederic but was entirely wrong.

Same dark hair, same tall and lean build, and same facial bone structure that would give a marble statue a run for its money. It took a couple of blinks for the tears to clear from my eyes and for me to realize that he wasn’t as dangerously handsome as Frederic.

“Uncle Elliott!” Penelope exclaimed, scrambling out of my lap and charging straight outside into the man’s open arms. “I missed you.”

Uncle.

Ah, of course, one of Frederic’s brothers.

I didn’t know much about the Dade family, only what I could find on Google before starting to work for Frederic.

Everything online was about Fred and his younger brother Jaxon.

The two of them ran Dade Diamonds together, growing it into a multi-billion-dollar empire in a surprisingly short time.

In a Forbes article that I came across, after clicking on a mouth-watering photo of Frederic—that may or may not be saved on my laptop— there was mention that he had three brothers in total.

The youngest two were a mystery, as they stayed completely out of the family diamond business.

Hugging his niece, Elliott peered over his glasses at me. “Sorry to intrude on you like this.”

“No need to apologize. You’re one of Fred’s brothers, right?”

“Elliott,” he said, his lips pressing into a thin, somewhat smile. “Is Frederic around by any chance?”

“Not yet, but he should be home soon. He usually gets in about half five.”

“Mind if I wait around for him?”

I shook my head. “Not at all. Do you want a cuppa while you wait? It’s about that time of the day when I go into withdrawal from caffeine. Me and Pen call it my sugar o’clock time.”

A timid smile broke free. “Coffee sounds good.”

Watching him lift Penelope off the ground and carry her up the house while she grinned from ear to ear, the heaviness from before crept its way back into my chest.

Except this time, it wasn’t my own family that caused it. It was the thought of watching the family I was growing to cherish being ripped apart before my very eyes that weighed on my heart and threatened to fracture it.