Page 28 of Daring Wicked Love (Wicked Dade #2)

The memories I created in Nice would stay with me forever.

Including the ones with Frederic — they were not so secretly my favorite.

Frederic was a completely different man from the one who touched down in Nice.

He laughed. He smiled. He made jokes, though most of the time they were borderline ‘dad jokes’ that only made him chuckle.

The main difference was that he was unguarded.

He was happy.

Carefree.

And slowly wriggling his way into becoming a permanent resident in my heart.

Although we didn’t have any more sex during the rest of the holiday, something between us had definitely shifted.

A part of me knew it was wrong that we crossed the line, but sweet lord, when Frederic fucked me it felt better than anything I’d ever experienced before.

All other sexual encounters were nothing compared to him.

How the hell was I supposed to go back to plain old boring sex with guys like missionary-position-Jerry? Frederic had created an all-new, mind-blowing, and toe-curling standard.

My poor vibrator was never going to be able to compete with his devilish tongue and talented fingers.

I didn’t dare try and talk to him about it again, not after that weak pathetic attempt that resulted in me happily sucking his cock.

I guess part of me was worried that if I tried to talk to him, we’d be forced to reset the boundaries in our relationship sooner than I desired.

If I even wanted them reset at all.

It didn’t matter how much I wanted him, physically and in many other ways. I was no fool. I knew Frederic would never allow himself to have true feelings for me. The man guarded his heart like a lion guarding its pride.

And there was no worse feeling in the world than loving someone who didn’t want you back.

Sitting on the flight back to Ontario, I flipped open my sketchpad and finalized the final touches to the piece I had planned to submit to Nirvana Gallery, all the while weakly ignoring Frederic sitting opposite me. Penelope sat perched on his knee as he read aloud to her.

I told myself not to look, not to get sucked into the ovary-quaking image before me, but my fickle heart was having difficulty listening to my brain lately.

Something I blamed on a handsome older French man.

“My sister used to love that book,” I said after he finished a chapter. “When we were really young, we used to build a fort in our bedroom, and I’d read that to her. Not to brag, but my Tumnus voice is legendary.”

His lips curved into a soft smile. “Are you trying to insinuate that it’s better than mine?”

I shrugged with a smirk. “You know what they say, practice makes perfect. Don’t worry with a loooot of practice, you’ll get to my standard one day.”

“There you go again with that mouth of yours.”

“You love it.”

Love.

Oh, shitting shit . The word was out before I could stop myself.

Thankfully, Frederic paid it no heed as he adjusted Penelope to rest her head on his shoulder as her eyes drooped. “Do you get to speak to your sister in Ireland much?”

The shading pencil in my hand stilled, my whole body tensing in an instant as his question threw me off guard.

“Not as often as I wished.” Shifting my focus onto the paper on my lap, I willed myself to relax. “The time zones don’t help, and we don’t really…” I squirmed in my seat, the previous conversation I had with Niamh replaying in my mind. “Our relationship isn’t the best right now.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he said. “Were the two of you close growing up?”

“Yes and no. Before we went into foster care, our father went out of his way to ensure we didn’t develop a sisterly bond.” A wedge lodged itself uncomfortably in my throat. “But I’m her big sister, you know? So I did everything I could to be there for her.”

Frederic remained silent.

By the stars, it had been a long time since I talked about my childhood with anyone who wasn’t my therapist, and even then, I struggled to reveal everything to them.

It’s why art therapy was easier. No talking, just physically expressing my emotions on a canvas.

Look, I wasn’t ashamed of my past, but it wasn’t a time in my life that brought me any joy or happiness.

I simply didn’t want to talk about my past or breathe life into those memories because I didn’t want people to look at me differently.

I didn’t want their pity.

I wanted them to know the version of Orla I fought tooth and nail to become.

But with Frederic, it was different. For the first time in my twenty-seven years, I didn’t fear showing someone every part of me.

“When we moved into foster care, Niamh was still so young and didn’t understand why we were suddenly moving out of our home and into strangers’ houses.

She needed someone to hate, someone to blame,” I said slowly.

“I felt like it was my duty as her big sister to absorb her pain and be the person she needed to blame.”

Warmth enveloped my hand. Frederic’s large hand encased my own, his thumb brushing my knuckles as he shifted forward in his seat until our knees touched.

“It’s on my bucket list to go back one day, but I left Ireland because I wanted a fresh start.

The place was full of darkness and pain, and the second I saved up enough money, I applied for a visa and took the first flight I could away from there,” I continued.

“Niamh stayed behind, and although I tried to push a relationship on her, she still blames me. She only ever contacted me when she needed money. It’s why I took the nanny job, because I needed the money to pay for her university bills. ”

“Orla…”

I shook my head, cutting him off. “I’m fine, seriously. Before we left for Nice, I told her that I wasn’t going to give her any more money. I hate myself for doing that to her, for cutting her off.”

He interlocked his fingers with mine. “Sibling relationships are hard, trust me, I understand that more than you know. But you deserve the same respect you give your sister in return.”

“I know, and I know cutting her off financially was always on the cards. I guess I was just hoping that after all was said and done, after all the hurt and pain we caused each other, she’d still want to be in my life. We’re sisters, we’re blood, that has to count for something, right?”

A deep line creased his brow.

“My foster families still write now and again, and I adore each and every one of them for being there in a shitty time of my life. If it wasn’t for Grainne in particular, I know I wouldn’t be where I am today.

I owe her a lifetime of gratitude for not giving up on me,” I exhaled unsteadily.

“But Niamh is all the blood family I have left.”

“Can I ask about your father?”

Battery acid scorched the back of my throat. “I used to picture him as this demon, this boogey man who terrorized my entire childhood. Now? I realize he is just a sick, pathetic excuse for a man. A man who preyed on the weak and vulnerable for his own pleasure.”

Everything about Frederic turned arctic cold. “Did he hurt you?”

“Physically? No. Emotional abuse was more his forte at home. He made his disgust and lack of love for me known on a daily basis.” I swallowed the burning sensation. “When the truth came out about those women he hurt, I testified in court and told everyone exactly the type of worthless man he is.”

The corner of his eye twitched. “What was his sentence?”

“Fifteen years, not much in the grand scheme of things, but at least it exposed him as the monster he truly is.”

“For you to have gone through all that… I am in awe of you, Orla,” Frederic said. “Not only are you the most beautiful woman, inside and out, that I’ve had the fortune to know, but you are also the strongest.”

Despite the acid dripping down my throat, it did nothing to scorch the wings of the butterflies swooping in my stomach.

I saw little reason to inform Frederic about my father’s current release from jail.

Frederic had enough on his plate with court and work, I didn’t want to add the burden of myself onto his plate.

My father was my problem to solve and mine alone.

He didn’t need to worry about me on top of everything else — after all, I’d never truly be his to worry about.

“Wakey, wakey!” Penelope pressed her soft, crayon-smudged thumb into my nose. “We’ve landed and the car is waiting outside for us.”

“I’m up,” I yawned. “What time is it?”

“Not sure,” Penelope skipped toward the exit, “but Daddy said we are going to go and get pancakes with lots of syrup for breakfast.”

The creak in my neck was an unfriendly reminder not to fall asleep upright.

Stretching my arms, a blanket tumbled from my body onto the ground. A blanket that I most definitely did not have before conking out cold.

My pulse jumped at the faint echo of someone wrapping the blanket around me, and a lingering touch stroking the length of my jaw.

Smiling to myself, I unbuckled and followed Penelope out of the private plane onto solid ground.

Another flight that I didn’t perish in a fiery ball completed.

Blinking against the brightness of the morning sun, I followed Penelope toward the town car where Frederic stood beaming at the two of us.

His smile stopped my freaking heart mid-beat.

It was so hopeful and full of joy that I was blinded to the surroundings around us.

“ Bonjour, mon lutin, ” Frederic said after bundling Penelope into the car and closing the door before I got a chance to get in. “We have a few things to do today, but I thought we’d get breakfast first.”

“What sort of things?”

A twinkle in his eye captured my attention, and if it were at all possible, his smile grew tenfold. “I’ll tell you after we’ve eaten our body weight in pancakes.”

I could get used to those kinds of smiles.

I narrowed my eyes. “Why are you so chipper this morning?”

“The DNA results came back. The email landed in my inbox just when we touched down.”

The very breath in my lungs seized.

“Penelope is one hundred percent undoubtedly mine. My lawyer is already informing the judge and hopefully passing a motion to end this once and for all.”

I didn’t think about it as I threw my arms around him.

“That’s amazing, Fred!” I grinned. “Not that I thought for a second it would come back any other way, but still, I am so happy for you.”

His arms wrapped around me tightly as he lifted me off the ground and buried his face into the crook of my neck.

Not giving a single shit about the aircrew who were probably watching us, or the town-car driver also nearby, my legs wrapped around his waist.

I inhaled the welcoming scent of his aftershave.

“It’s nearly over,” I breathed into his neck. “One more push and all this will be done and dusted, and you won’t have to fight anymore.”

“One more push,” he repeated. “One more and then I’ll have everything I need in my life. We’ll be a family.”

I knew he meant him and Penelope.

My brain knew it, my gut knew it, but my stubborn heart had a funny way of overruling every other part of me recently.

It was my heart that painted the picture of the three of us together.

Me, Frederic, and Pen — a happy, perfect little family in a home that my soul so desperately called out for.

It was my heart that longed for Frederic’s, for him to let down his guard and to realize that he deserved to be loved by someone who saw the real him.

Someone who could endure his spikes and see the beauty hiding beneath his iceberg.

Someone like me.

Shit.

Shitting shit. I’m seriously falling hard for my boss.

He finally and slowly set me back down on the ground, though his hands remained on my hips. “None of this would have been possible without you. You’ve captured Penelope’s heart, and I am entirely grateful for that.”

But what about his heart?

I blinked twice, my smile painfully plastered into place. “Truthfully, she’s captured mine. You’ve got one hell of a kid on your hands.”

“I thought we could spend the day together… The three of us,” he said. “Get some breakfast, see the city, stop by Nirvana Gallery… ”

My head whipped around; the realization that we were, in fact, not back in Ontario, but instead standing in a private hangar that looked awfully familiar, slammed into me like a ton of bricks. “Are we in New York?”

“You might want to remove those keen observational skills from your resume.”

When I flipped him off, he threw his head back with a laugh.

It was becoming my favorite sound.

Okay, maybe second favorite, because the way he said my name like it was designed only for him made my cheeks flush uncontrollably every-goddamn-time.

Frederic reached for the strand of my hair caught in the breeze and tucked it behind my ear. His fingers traced the shell of my ear. Goosebumps kissed my flesh. “I thought you might want to personally hand-deliver your piece for submission.”

I nodded like some brain-dead zombie. “I’d like that a lot.”

Letting him guide me into the car, my mind kicked back into action and attempted to fight against my fluttering heartbeat.

Because Frederic may not have realized it, but it wasn’t just his daughter who had undoubtedly captured my heart.