LIAM
Just before I’m about to finish my last whiskey and head up to my own room, my cell phone starts to buzz. I pick it up, certain that if anyone is calling me at this time of night, it can’t be good.
It’s Niall, which after our last conversation, makes me even more certain that’s the case. Particularly after the first words out of his mouth.
“You should come back to Boston.”
“Hello to you, too.” I frown, leaning back in the booth. “You know I’m not going to do that.”
“Graham O’Sullivan has heard some rumors swirling around. Rumors that you and a couple of Viktor’s men went in search of a woman—a womannotnamed Saoirse O’Sullivan.”
“And did you do your best to assure him those rumors were exactly that?”
Niall lets out a sigh on the other end of the line as it crackles from half a world away. “You know I did, Liam. I’d lie to the devil himself if it kept your balls out of a vise. But O’Sullivan is no fool. And he’s already aware of how you’ve dragged your feet regarding his daughter. If he’s given a reason as to why you might be doing that, he’s hardly going to dismiss it out of hand.”
“It’s your job to get him to dismiss it,” I say tightly. “You’re my right hand, Niall. Your job is to handle these things while I’m gone, sohandlethem.”
“I’m doing all I can, Liam.” Niall’s voice is terser than usual. “It’s a right shitshow here, and all because you’re not here to keep these men in line.”
“They weren’t in line when I was there. You were at the last meeting. They’re itching for a reason to replace me.”
“And you’re giving them one.” Niall lets out another exasperated breath. “Come back to Boston, Liam. Let Levin and the priest look for the girl if you’re so worried. But for fuck’s sake, come back here and do your duty.” He pauses, a heavy silence lingering over the line. “Or else I’m not so sure what you’ll have left to come back to.”
“I’ll take it under advisement.”
“I know what that means.” Niall grunts, the line crackling again. “I’ll call you if I hear more.”
“Do that. I’ll check in soon.”
I hang up before Niall can say anything more, every muscle in my body feeling wound tight. I’d expected difficulties to arise while I was gone, of course, but not so soon.
For a brief moment, I’m forced to consider the possibility of going back to Boston. I could leave a message for Levin and Max, take a commercial flight back and leave them the jet. I have no doubt, Levin, at the very least, would continue on to Greece and stay in contact with me. I could do what Niall is clearly asking of me and set things right back home.
I don’t even have to have a hand in planning the wedding to Saoirse. All I have to do is show up on the appointed day. And as for Ana, once Levin has located her, I can use some of the considerable wealth my father left me to set her up comfortably. She’ll be safe, protected, all the things that I said I wanted.
But she won’t bemine.It’s all I can think as I pay my tab and head to the elevator up to my room. I won’t have been the one to find her, save her, and bring her home. I want to find her, to look into her eyes and tell her that she’s safe, that no one will ever hurt her again.
I’d said earlier that I love her. The words linger in my head as I slide the key into my door, the sounds from Levin’s room down the hall carrying. From what I hear, they’re having a grand time, and I can hardly begrudge him that. But the feeling of bitterness lingers.
I hadn’t asked for the position I’d been given. It was never meant to be mine, and now it feels like a noose around my neck, tightening and slowly killing me. What I want is as far away as ever, with only a name leading us to the next point, the next clue. And after that? I have no way of knowing if I’ll find her in time. What she’ll be like when I do—ifI do.
I could go home. Marry Saoirse, like I’m supposed to.It would be so easy. It’s all waiting for me, neatly planned out, the contracts signed, the arrangements already being made, a ring on her finger.
Saoirse is a good girl. A beautiful, sweet girl, the perfect wife for a man like me in every way except one—that she’s not the woman I want. She’s not the woman I dream of at night, not the one who makes me hard and aching, desperate to touch her again.
I’ve never fantasized about Saoirse, never felt as if I’d burn the world down just to hold her in my arms.
Fuck.I run my hand through my hair, my body tense and restless. I strip down to my boxers, the whiskey leaving me pleasantly fuzzy around the edges, but just the thought of Ana is enough to have me half-aroused. I can feel the throb between my legs, the rush of blood as my cock starts to stiffen. I groan as I adjust myself, sliding onto the bed with my fingers lingering on the thickening length of my shaft.
Think of Saoirse.I force myself to summon her face as I run my fingers down my cock, feeling myself swell and harden under my touch. I take my shaft between thumb and forefinger, jerking it in a few quick, fast movements until it lurches against my palm. I wrap my hand fully around it, groaning with pleasure as my hips tilt upwards.
I try to think of her, glowing and radiant in the emerald dress, and what it would be like to undress her, to peel the satin away and reveal the slender curves of her body. I try to think of the kiss she almost gave me on the balcony and carry it through to its logical conclusion, to the warm press of her mouth against mine and her breasts against my chest, her arms slipping around my neck as she moans my name.
If anything, my erection falters, the desire receding as I groan with frustration. Iwantto desire her, if only because it would make my life so much fucking easier. But what gets me hard, what makes me feel as if I’m going mad with lust, is the thought of Ana.
Fuck. Ana.I think of her delicate face, her soft blue eyes, the way her lips parted when she laughed at something I’d said in the garden, and I’m suddenly rock hard, my cock throbbing in my fist as I tilt my head back with a moan of pleasure.
God, I want her. I want to give her things she’s never imagined, to touch and caress and lick her until she cries out my name, to make her beg for more, and then beg me to stop because she’s had enough. I want to take away every terrible thing that’s ever happened to her, to be her lover and her savior, to wipe it all clean and replace it all with more pleasure than she’s ever dreamed of.