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CONOR
“Okay, hit me with it.”
She stared down at her decaf coffee. “There isn’t that much to hit you with.”
“Lies,” I rumbled, but I saw the despondency in her expression and the slight slump to her shoulders.
The day hadn’t started how I’d imagined. Not only because she’d still been there when I’d woken up and it hadn’t been a dream, but also because it had been five PM when we’d finally dragged our asses off the couch.
She’d headed to her shower, I’d gone to mine, then we’d met up in her suite because it had a bigger living area.
By the time I’d finished showering—and checking my products for oranges of which there was zero citrus scent in any of them—two types of coffee, croissants, some preserves, and a spread of ham and cheese had arrived at her suite.
One cheese and ham croissant in and I was grilling her about BDSec.
“I should have known you had something to do with that hacktivist group when they started calling themselves Pussy Patrol.”
Her nose crinkled. “It was a ‘fuck you’ to the patriarchy.”
“No,” I drawled. “I’d never have guessed.”
She squinted at me. “Why do you even care?”
“Because if I’d been a Pauk or had been with Anonymous, wouldn’t you have wanted to know?”
“No,” she grumbled.
“Lies again! No coffee for you.” I made to snatch her mug but she literally hissed at me and held it between her tits. Amused, I rasped, “I knew you were part cat.”
“Better than being part dog.” She sniffed.
“Meaning?”
“Meaning you are.”
“How did you figure that out?”
“You’re loyal and you obey orders.”
“You were a soldier.”
“Yeah, and when I stopped obeying, they tossed me in Club Pervert because I’m a cat.”
“What kind of cat?”
She smirked. “Siamese.”
“Does that mean you yowl if I tug on your tail?”
Her eyes flared. “Um, no.”
I almost started snickering, but I saw I’d shocked her.
Damn, she was edgy. And I loved it. There was no relaxing around her when she was in a mood, which was clearly our current issue.
“What dog am I?”
“Maybe an Australian Shepherd.”
Shoving a hand through my hair, I chuckled. “Random.”
“Nah. I grew up with one. They’re the best. Smartest breed around, hear anything, keep a watch on everything, playful, pretty… What about that isn’t you?”
I pondered the description. “I think I’ll take that. Also, you thought about it,” I teased. “I’m touched.”
She glowered at her coffee. “Katina asked me once.”
“Katina did. Right.”
“She did! She’s at that age where she asks stupid shit. We’re almost past that point.” She crossed her fingers. “I preferred it when she wanted to know why Link and Lily ‘slept’ so much?—”
“Because they were in bed all the time?” I shot her a mocking wink. “That’s what Old Men and Old Ladies do?”
She scrunched up her nose at my play on words. “I’m honest but I’m not that honest. I wasn’t going to tell her that they were fucking like rabbits. It was easier to say they’re very sleepy.” Her gaze drifted to my temple. “The bruise is better.”
“Almost gone. Spent the night in the hospital for that one. As for the other, I was out for the count for almost a whole day.”
“Wow, Maverick really decked you, huh?”
Deciding not to incite more ire for Temper Black after hearing a soliloquy about that already this evening, I merely grumbled, “He did.”
“I’m kind of glad. I know she’s in safe hands.”
“Yeah, so safe that she managed to run away from them!”
Star shrugged. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m furious and I’ll make him regret the day his mother gave birth to him, but she’s a smart kid. You can’t keep her somewhere she doesn’t want to stay. She needed to talk to you, so she made it happen, and look, you didn’t let her down, did you?”
Well, there was no arguing with that. “I guess I didn’t.”
Returning the mug to the table, she started dosing a croissant with jam. I watched her move the pastry to her mouth, trying not to be enchanted by the sight of her licking her lips when some of the preserve collected at the corner, definitely trying not to groan when she sighed with appreciation.
“You still haven’t told me about BDSec,” I complained because it was either that or kiss her, and I didn’t think she was ready for that.
Yet.
Please, fuck, let there be an expiration date on when I couldn’t press my mouth to hers?—
“I started it with two other hackers after I got away from the Sparrows. I needed to find someone, and they helped me.”
“ They helped you ?”
“With the amount of time I was out of action, I was slow,” she admitted. “I needed some help getting back into the swing of things. You know how quickly our world moves, and if you’re slow, you lose.”
“Who did you need to find?”
“A man helped me when I was in Lebanon. He almost got killed for his troubles.” She shoved more of the croissant between her lips. “You probably know him. His name’s Hunter Lachlan.”
“The Camorran Don. Met him at his niece’s christening.”
Her brows rose. “Niece?”
“He’s married to Aurora Valentini now.”
A smile danced on her lips. “So, the old bastard made it happen.”
“Who’s the old bastard?”
She wafted a hand. “It doesn’t matter. I’m glad for Hunter though. He’s been pining for Aurora since they were kids. What did you talk about with him?”
“You, of course. I wanted to know if he’d heard from you.”
Her nose crinkled. “I burned that bridge.”
“Why?”
“To save him.”
I shook my head. “You’re the most complicated woman alive, Lodestar.”
“Do you know you call me Lodestar when you’re being pissy with me?”
“You answer to both, don’t you?”
“I do.”
“So what’s the problem then?”
“Nothing. I’m just onto you, that’s all.”
I rolled my eyes. “Okay, so Lachlan was the reason you needed help back then.”
“I had to know if he survived. It… I used to think about that time and it would give me nightmares.” She cleared her throat and tossed the croissant back on the table.
“You don’t have to tell me what happened.”
“I don’t think I could,” she said rawly, her gaze low. “Minerva and Ovianar are the other leaders of BDSec.”
The memory had to be bad if she was getting back on track. “Not sure I’ve heard of Ovianar,” I admitted.
“That’s exactly how she likes it,” she mocked.
“Minerva—didn’t she hack the Senate’s power grid when they were going to vote to let oil companies drill in Alaska?”
“She did. Didn’t stop them from letting that law pass though.” Her brow puckered. “How can Kuznetsov sit there, so high and mighty, when all this shit is happening in our society and he could help but doesn’t?”
“Maybe they’re not as powerful as they want us to think. We only have it on their word that they are.”
She shook her head. “No. I know they’re powerful. It’s why I targeted them in the first place. But I guess there’s power and there’s power. ”
Because I didn’t want to think about her seducing Kuznetsov, I changed the subject. “Aren’t you friendly with Minerva and Ovianar anymore?”
“What makes you ask that?”
“You seem sad when you talk about them.”
“We couldn’t agree on how to take the group forward. I dumped BDSec on their laps and we haven’t really spoken since.”
“Do you think we’ll need their help?”
“Don’t know. We’ll need Dead To Me though.”
A knock sounded at the door. Before she could, I headed over to it, pulled it open, asking, “Yes?” before I saw that it was Edgar.
“Good evening, sir. I have Madam Sullivan’s personal effects.”
Star jerked up at the news—she was wearing the robe from the bathroom.
That wasn’t distracting.
At all.
Neither was the fact that she’d slept beside me with only my tee and a pair of panties on.
Dead. I was so fucking dead.
“Where did you get all this?” Star cried as Edgar appeared with a few other servers, each loaded down with bags.
Edgar cleared his throat. “I’m not certain if Mr. Kuznetsov would appreciate it if I answered that question, ma’am.”
“Meaning he raided your Airbnb or hotel room,” I drawled, tone cynical even as my heart seemed to twang in my chest as I watched her eyes light up when she uncovered her case and found her phone tucked neatly in one of the pockets.
Edgar shot me a disapproving look, which was fucking hilarious seeing as he didn’t know me and I didn’t know him, but I hid my smile and just watched as the staff faded into the woodwork as they had a habit of doing around here.
I’d think they were half-ghost or they were just terrified of being caught lingering by?—
“Stop thinking about Downton Abbey .”
Peeved, I folded my arms across my chest. “Who said I was thinking about Downton Abbey ?”
“I can guarantee it,” was her smug retort as the staff bustled around in her bedroom, swiftly unpacking her two mid-sized cases. “You were thinking about Mr. Carson?—”
With a sniff, I countered, “ Actually, I was thinking about Mrs. Hughes.”
Her grin was mostly hidden by the cascade of hair that fell over her face as she ducked around, plugging her computer and cellphone in to charge, apparently uncaring that people were touching her stuff.
Although, with her past, maybe she’d grown up being cared for like that.
Da hadn’t believed in any of that bullshit. Ma had run our home and we’d had to keep our rooms neat; the only deference to his status was that he had maids come in and keep everything tidy every other day.
Even then, he hadn’t liked having people rummaging around his stuff.
The memory made my lips curve. Especially when I thought back to the time he’d accused one of the maids of stealing his underwear when it was Eoghan who had taken to using them as flags for the fortress he’d built in our backyard…
What the hell he thought a maid would want with his boxers, I didn’t know.
“Do you need anything, sir?”
Torn from the past, I turned to Dubrovnik’s version of Mr. Carson and requested, “More coffee if possible.”
“Of course, sir. Mr. Kuznetsov had to leave unexpectedly but he asked me to extend the invitation to treat this house as your own.” Then, his attention aimed at Star, he stated, “In his words, this is a family retreat.”
Star snorted but didn’t reply.
When Edgar’s shoulders hunched at the non-verbal rebuke, I slapped him on the back. “Don’t take it personally. She’s just grouchy.”
Though he nodded, his gaze was plaintive as he continued gazing at Star. “What time will you be requiring dinner, sir?”
I shrugged. “If Kuznetsov’s not here, then we’re not tied down to formal dining hours?”
“That is correct, sir.”
“We’ll ring if we’re hungry. That okay?”
“Of course, sir. If not I, then Grimaud, the footman, will gladly attend to you.”
“Great.”
Once he’d left, Star peered at me. “You’re totally getting a boner for all this servant shit, aren’t you?”
“You can’t deny that it’s cool.”
“It’s cool if you’re not a servant.”
“You’re used to it.”
“I’m Gerry Sullivan’s daughter,” she said with a laugh. “Do you think he picked his dirty towels off the floor or cleaned his own toilet?”
My nose crinkled at the imagery. Never meet your heroes, I thought before tacking on, Or their daughters.
With the last of the staff having disappeared, I asked, “Do you think they were trained by British royals?”
“Yeah. I can just imagine the royal family getting down and dirty with the staff and teaching them how to deal with guests who beat the shit out of security guards.”
“You know I meant the royal household .” My lips quirked up. “But that would totally be worthy of a Netflix show.”
“If they wanted an audience of one. You .”
Delighted with her argumentativeness, I sighed.
“What?” she demanded, mid-click of her mouse, clearly seeing that I was studying her and unafraid to call me out on it.
“Nothing. Just…” I smirked. “You haven’t changed.”
“I’ll get dressed after I set my computer up. Fuck knows what he did to it to track my?—”
“I wasn’t talking about clothes, Lodestar,” I grouched. “I meant you . You haven’t changed.”
She frowned. “Why would I have?”
“People change when you meet them in real life. Plus, there’s some stuff you just can’t predict.”
“Like the fact you smell of oranges?”
“I checked every toiletry I brought with me and there isn’t a single citrus top note in any of them.”
“You smell of oranges.”
I rolled my eyes.
“I’m glad. I like oranges,” she grumbled. “But I know what you mean. You could have smelled of oud and then I’d have had to go puke.”
“Oud isn’t that bad,” I retorted, thinking about an aftershave I really loved that used oud in its composition.
“It is. It’s horrible. It makes me sneeze.”
There went the two-thousand-dollar-an-ounce bottle into the trash.
I huffed on my way over to her, but I was careful not to block her in place or to trap her between myself and the table. She grew tense at my proximity yet allowed me to gently collect her hair into a soft ponytail.
As I moved closer to her, she turned more and more rigid, but when I pressed my nose to her nape, a soft sigh drifted from her lips.
“What are you doing?“
“Finding out what you smell of,” I whispered.
“You slept with me.”
“Technically, you slept with me , and my nose was too far away.”
She snorted, which I took as silent assent for my ministrations to continue, then shivered when I ran the tip of my nose along the line of her neck. I pressed a kiss to the top vertebra of her spine, enjoying the soft, surprised breath she released, then let my forehead rest against the back of her head.
“What do I smell of?” she whispered as my free hand moved to her stomach where I spread my fingers wide to hold her in place.
I closed my eyes.
Mine.
But I didn’t have a death wish.
“Cinnamon.”
It wasn’t a total lie.
The spicy notes were there, making my senses burn in response.
I breathed her in, trying to make myself register that she was actually here. That I could?—
Translating thought and desire into action, I reached for her with my other hand and let my finger run down the side of her throat. At first, her tension amped up again, but then she released a shuddery breath that I felt in my bones.
“If you taste of it too, I’m fucked.”
“I doubt I taste like a cinnamon roll, unless I eat one first,” she rasped.
“I could ask Edgar to make us some. The guy seems to enjoy doing stuff for us.”
I felt her soft chuckle as if it came from my own chest. “I’m not sure if he ‘enjoys’ it. It’s his job, Conor.”
“Hmm. Better than killing people for a living. It can’t all be bad. Want a cinnamon roll?”
She paused. Gave it far more thought than junk food—aka Mother Nature’s treasure—required, then she whispered, “Yeah.”
This time, I let my tongue trace down the central line of her nape. “I’ll tell him when he brings coffee.”
A broken, keening sound escaped her that went straight to my dick. “G-Great,” she stuttered, watching her hands flatten on either side of her laptop, the fingers spreading wide. “I-I guess I should get changed.”
I was more than okay with her staying in her current outfit, but I didn’t say that, just stepped back, knowing that she needed the space. Well aware that I’d taken this further than I’d intended.
Giving her room to breathe, I asked, “We’ll hash out a game plan once you’ve changed?”
“Yeah,” she agreed shakily. “Sounds good to me.”
As she stepped away, her gaze lingered on mine for a handful of seconds.
Neither of us were ingenues. Nor were we virgins. But we both knew what it felt like to have our consent stripped away from us—maybe that was why we were dancing around each other?
When you found a hundred-carat diamond in the earth, after all, you didn’t excavate it with a mallet from Lowes.
Some things took time.
Some things were worth waiting for.
Some things required cultivation.
It was as if she read my mind because she graced me with a soft nod before heading off to the bedroom.
When the door closed behind her, I cracked my knuckles, trying to get myself under some semblance of control.
Nothing about the last twenty-four hours had gone according to plan; nothing had gone down how I’d imagined it. She was here with me, though, and that was all that mattered.
Only if we were together could we bring the world to its knees, and for Star Sullivan, I’d do more than that—I’d bring civilization itself to a halt if that was what she needed to be liberated from the burden of her past.
Table of Contents
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