Chapter Two
CONNOR
When I walk into the kitchen searching for coffee, I am confronted with the mouthwatering sight of perhaps the world’s most perfectly shaped arse. It’s clad in tight jeans, sticking out of my fridge. Is it my birthday?
Leaning my shoulder against the doorjamb, I shove my hands into my pockets and drink in the sight. I think this might be my new housekeeper. Remind me to buy Paddy the world’s best bottle of whiskey. The lad has truly come through for me.
When he said he had found me the perfect solution to the problem of my mammy’s leaving these shores, I scoffed at him. Apparently, one of Lauren’s little friends was down on her luck.
She needed a place to live and a job to pay her keep. Paddy thought the perfect solution would be for her to move into my mammy’s old space on the second floor and be my housekeeper.
I wasn’t sold on the idea of having a strange lass in my house on the sole reference of her being Lauren’s friend and needing a helping hand, but I’m quickly reassessing my former stance.
I’ve had cleaners come in since my mammy left for Ireland and a life without organized crime in it. Plus, my dry cleaning place presses my shirts, and I paid the cleaners extra to keep my fridge stocked.
Something about having a single stranger in my house appealed to me. Now I know the stranger has a backside like this; it’s even more appealing.
She finally straightens, turning around, and her cornflower blue eyes widen in shock when they land on me. The lass jumps, pressing her hands to her heart as she squeals. I’m surprised she hasn’t fainted dead away. She looks like she’d collapse if someone said boo to her.
Recovering quickly, her eyes boldly roam all over me, so I return the favor. The rest of her matches her mouthwatering arse. Long, silky dark blonde hair is pulled back loosely into a ponytail, and her face wouldn’t be out of place in a fashion magazine selling skincare products.
She’s drowning in an oversized woolen sweater, but if her arse and legs are anything to go by, she’s hiding a banging body.
The lass’s eyes move back to mine, and she stammers out her name. Andie Halpern. When I introduce myself, she shivers, and I frown. I’m not sure what that’s all about.
“P-Paddy gave me the keys when he brought me here.”
I nod again. That’s what I asked him to do. I was taking a delivery at the club –Mellie might order the liquor for the bars, but only I pick what gets served in my domain, so I couldn’t be here when the lass arrived.
“Did he give ye a tour, lass?” I ask, biting the inside of my cheek almost immediately.
I’ve gone and fucking turned on my Irish accent. It happens almost automatically when I’m confronted with a pretty face, and this lass is one of the prettiest. I can’t help but turn on the charm.
It’s seen me through life rather well so far, but I probably shouldn’t be trying to charm my housekeeper.
“He did.” Andie offers me a small smile. At least she’s stopped stammering. Maybe the charm offensive was the right move. “You have a lovely home.”
I smirk at her. That’s what everyone says. Seamus’s wife, Tiggy, is always in raptures when she’s here.
“Thank ye, lass. Can’t say I’ve much to take credit for. My mammy’s responsible for the décor. I only picked out the top floor.”
Her eyes dart around the room like she’s expecting someone else to pop out from behind the furniture.
“Oh, I see. Is your mother here?”
“No. She left for Ireland three weeks ago.” I shrug, fighting a wince as I remember her tears, threats, and guilt-tripping.
Jesus fuck. She claimed I was breaking her heart by not leaving with her. The woman was crazy if she ever thought that was happening. I’m thirty years old. I’m not about to leave my home because my mammy wants a sea change.
Plus, even if Sean Fitzpatrick had allowed it, his son Seamus would never have been so understanding. And since I’m in Seamus’s crew, I do what he says. For the most part. He’s also my cousin, so I get away with more than the others.
“She used to keep your house for you?”
I shrug and nod. A small, mischievous smirk tugs at the corners of her mouth.
“That explains the wallpaper,” she quips. I blink at her in surprise. The lass is joking with me. All her shock at my surprising her seems to have disappeared.
I suppose she is from Dot, and she agreed to come and live with a mobster. No matter what she looks like, I was never going to end up with a shrinking violet sharing my space. Lauren is a bit the same. Looks like she’d faint dead away at the first sign of a fright but can look Paddy dead in the eye and tell him she loves him when he’s covered in blood after a hit.