Page 46 of Savage Promises (Quinlan Empire #2)

His hot cum fills me as he pumps through his climax. It’s so slick and messy. After a final grunt, he pulls out and lays across my back.

I feel his heart pounding in his chest. We’re so hot, I think we might melt the porcelain sink.

“God...” Shane snaps up and takes a handkerchief from his pocket. “Warm water, please.”

I let go of the vanity, where I’m sure my fingerprints are indented, and turn on the hot faucet.

Shane saturates the handkerchief and leans forward, kissing my cheek. “I’ll clean you, baby.”

His hand disappears behind me as he brushes my hole with a warm, wet cloth. “That was so fucking good.”

“It was.” I turn my head, wanting his mouth.

I need something intimate to close out this very filthy act, especially right in the middle of a dinner meeting with a guest who’s still sitting at our table waiting for us to return.

After cleaning me gently, Shane washes his hands.

“Come here,” he says with a wide grin, watching me in the mirror.

I lean in and he teases me with a mind-blowing kiss.

“Let’s get back out there before your guest orders a second bottle of that single malt,” I say to lighten the mood .

“I’ll take it off his next invoice.” Shane presses one more kiss to my forehead.

We walk back inside the private dining room hand in hand, my heart rate still in a free fall. But my soul is as happy as ever.

My phone vibrates in my clutch.

Naturally, something will fuck up my chi.

Hoping it’s just my assistant manager, I casually glance at it. Shane respects my commitment to the club. Respects my responsibility as a boss.

Seeing a phone number in the Astoria Prep exchange twists my stomach with unease. A call about Neve? This late?

“Excuse me,” I whisper and quickly do an about-face for the door.

“So dedicated, your wife,” Tom purrs as I pass him.

“Look at my wife’s ass again, and I’ll gouge your eyes out,” Shane says, his ring of laughter laced with venom.

Outside the private dining room, I answer, “Hello?”

“This is Margaret Daley.” Neve’s new female coach has never called me before, and her reaching out this late makes my blood run cold.

Neve had said the team turned against her. What happened that the coach had to get involved?

“Coach, is everything all right?” I pray it’s something simple.

“Neve broke her arm during practice tonight,” the coach says blankly and with little emotion. “We’re at Harbor Hospital.”

Hearing hospital my spine goes weak. Shit.

“Is she okay?” I lean against the wall, dreading what this means for my perfect night.

“She’s being prepped for surgery.”

“Surgery?” I choke out. “God, it’s that serious of a break?”

“I’d rather the doctors explain it,” she says. “I tried calling your brother first at Neve’s request.”

I stuff away the stinging rejection. “I suppose you didn’t get hold of him?”

“No. I left a few messages and sent texts, but I didn’t get a response.”

So, that bastard is getting his dick sucked. And my father is probably three sheets to the wind somewhere. He’d end up yelling at her even if he did show up.

As usual, taking care of Neve falls on me. Always me .

“She needs a family member here immediately,” the coach stresses, probably exhausted from a long day that she didn’t think would end in the ER. “The hospital admin is asking questions about her insurance that I can’t answer. I gave them a card from her wallet, but there’s an issue.”

Insurance? She got hurt on school property. During a school event. Surely, they are responsible? Like a workman’s comp thing. But I can’t argue that while my sister is in pain.

“I’ll be right there.” I end the call and want to bang my head against the wall.

I return to the dining room and Shane immediately clocks my expression. He stands up and pulls me off to the side. “Everything all right?”

I get how a mob boss’s possession of his wife can be over the top.

Shane doesn’t just tolerate my commitments, he celebrates my dedication to running a successful club.

My power turns him on. But Shane has no love for my sister and although he hides his resentment when I try to help her, I know it bothers him.

Neve betrayed him, made him look like a fool, and he can’t get past it for some reason.

Even if Neve’s choices played perfectly into his game to make me his wife instead.

Shane’s bitterness toward her lingers between us. To leave our dinner because Neve is in trouble will be a slap in the face.

“There’s a problem at the club,” I lie and it immediately feels wrong, but there’s no backing out now. “I need to take care of it. Mara sounds shaken up.”

Shane sits back in his chair, hand tightening around his wine glass. “I’ll skip the dessert and go with you.”

“No. It’s a female thing. Better it’s just me.” I force a smile to lessen the concern by sounding light about it.

It’s not the first time I’ve had to rush to the club to deal with an issue.

I lean in and whisper, “ This is important. Stay. I can handle my club.”

“Okay, Lennox, but let me call your guard.” He takes out his phone.

Fuck... Dorian. He’ll rat me out for sure.

“I’ll take a cab right outside. And I’ll have one of the bouncers bring me home.” I grab my clutch and pressing a quick kiss to his cheek, I say, “I’ll be fine.”

The weight of Shane’s suspicious gaze crawls up my spine. I don’t look back, don’t let it drown me in guilt. With my coat across my shoulders and my heels clicking against the ancient oak floors, every echo broadcasts my lie.

I hop into one of the taxis waiting in front of the restaurant and press a one-hundred-dollar bill to the glass, demanding we race to Harbor Hospital.

The motivated driver flies down narrow cobblestone side streets that I never even heard of.

He even takes a back-alley route I wouldn’t walk through in broad daylight.

But we get there in twenty minutes, earning his tip.

After arguing with the ER receptionist, I’m given a pass into the bays beyond the double doors where the smell of antiseptic and the cries of other patients in agony greet me.

I find Neve, her pale face scrunched in pain.

A nurse is taking her vitals, and the new volleyball coach, a ragged-looking woman in her forties, stands awkwardly at the foot of the bed.

“I’m here!” I say, rushing to Neve’s side.

She whimpers, clutching her arm. “About time.”

“What happened?” I ask, ignoring her tone.

“That bitch Rachel tripped me.”

“Now, Neve. You know it was an accident,” the coach singsongs.

Sounds like they want to avoid a lawsuit.

“I told you the team hates me,” Neve bites out.

With the coach looking stressed, I turn to her and say, “Thank you for staying with her, Coach. I got this.”

“Good luck, Neve.” She turns to walk away but stops when I clear my throat.

“Just so you’re prepared... This happened on school property. I will be calling my lawyer.”

Her shoulders stiffen, but she just nods and keeps walking. I hate that I’m jealous of how she gets to leave all this behind her, and my shift has just begun. And with Neve’s ungrateful attitude, it’s going to be a long night.

“How did the girl trip you?” I ask, fixing the blanket to keep her warm.

“I didn’t do anything, Lennox. I swear.”

“Okay, sweetheart,” I murmur, smoothing her hair back. My heart aches to see her like this, a far cry from the confident athlete she used to be.

I turn to the nurse. “Why hasn’t she been taken to surgery yet? She’s in pain!”

The nurse shifts uncomfortably. “We’re arranging for a transfer.”

“A transfer?” My voice rises to a biting pitch.

“I’ll let the admin in charge talk to you.” The nurse rushes off.

They’re overworked and underpaid, so I stifle any more bitterness toward her .

A moment later, an administrator in a cheap pants suit steps in. “Are you Neve’s guardian?”

“She’s eighteen.” I cross my arms.

“Neve is still in high school and requires a guardian.”

“I’m her sister. I was told my father couldn’t be reached.” I exhale. “So, I’m here. Talk to me. Why is she not being treated? The coach told me she was being prepped for surgery.”

The admin shoves her hands into polyester pockets. “Ms. Donnelly...”

“ Mrs. Quinlan ,” I correct her with a touch of hope that she recognizes the name and understands who she’s dealing with.

“Mrs. Quinlan, your sister is uninsured. Without coverage or a significant down payment, we can’t proceed. We’re moving her to City Hospital. They’ll reevaluate her and—”

“City Hospital?” I cry out.

I can’t believe my father knocked Neve off his insurance policy when she turned eighteen. He probably figured it would be up to Shane to pick up the coverage. Rage simmers in my veins at how irresponsible he’s been, but there’s little good that will do me right now.

“Ouch, Lennox,” my sister whines in pain. “It hurts.”

“You’re not moving my sister. I’ll take care of the bill.” Even as I say it, I wonder what I’m doing.

The money I received as a payout for Club Echelon is in a new account, and I recall something about a thirty-day hold to lock in a good interest rate. The other account Shane set up for me is for Luxe’s operating expenses.

“It will take time to draw up a full cash estimate,” she says, and more demurely adds, “We can’t guarantee that once we open her up there won’t be additional charges—”

“Just fix her,” I snap .

The sleek black credit card Shane gave me months ago shines in my wallet. I swore I’d never use it unless absolutely necessary. I guess I’ve reached that place.

I hesitate for half a second, then hand it over, figuring I can cover this with my Echelon payout as soon as the hold is lifted. By the time Shane sees the charge, it will be paid off.

Forgiveness vs. Permission.

“Take this. Charge whatever you need. Just get my sister into surgery right now . Here. She’s not going to City Hospital. In fact, I want your best orthopedic surgeon. She’s an athlete being scouted by USC and needs the best care.”

Every forceful word is a silent apology for the hell Neve has been through. I’m still angry at what she did to Shane, but she was used by my father and manipulated by an older man.

The administrator takes my card. “The nurse will be back with prep instructions.” She hurries away, her shoulders up around her ears.

“You didn’t have to be a bitch about it,” Neve huffs, her face red with pain.

Sighing, I sit down next to my sister and ignore the tantrum. “Your volleyball career is not over. You’re going to be fine,” I whisper, brushing a tear from her cheek.

She swipes it herself, pushing my hand away.

Lord, give me strength.

I sit back and all I can think about is how many hours I can stay away from Shane before he hunts me down. He tracks my whereabouts through my phone, which I’ve turned off. And if he checks my Luxe cameras and the bugs I know he planted, he’ll see I never showed up.

I hope he trusts me and doesn’t bother checking. I breathe a sigh of relief when a team comes to bring Neve to the OR. As I follow her gurney, I pray Shane got called away tonight and won’t be home until dawn.