Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 72895 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 364(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72895 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 364(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
“I do,” I assured him. Cillian wasn’t a man prone to bouts of sentimentality or emotions. He showed his appreciation in other ways.
“Good, because I’m about to ask you for the mother of all favors. It’s gonna hurt you like hell. Rip your heart out day after day, and I’m sorry for that, but it has to be you. It can only be you.”
“What is it, Cillian?”
“Sadie,” he whispered before he began to choke.
I found the cup of water beside the bed and held it close for him. I didn’t stare, and I didn’t offer any sympathetic looks because I knew he hated this helplessness, this weakness.
“Thank you.” He took another sip and fell back against the pillows. “Sadie is the future of the Ashby Organization. Sadie, not Colm. She’s going to need protection from my boy, from my business associates, from the whole fucking world. She’s going to need you, Thomas. You are exactly the man she needs, whether she knows it or not.” His green eyes bore into mine, his hand gripping mine as if I alone could keep him from meeting his maker.
I didn’t know if Cillian meant I was the man she needed, and I couldn’t let myself think it, so I nodded and told him I would honor the request. “She will always be protected, Cillian. I promise.”
Hours later, Cillian Ashby was dead, and Sadie was my new charge to protect and advise, to guide and save whenever needed.
And she’d never know it was me who killed Colm Ashby.
I’d been at her side for years, cleaning up her messes, loving her from afar, dressing her, advising her. Always the silent arm of protection she needed, whether she wanted it or not.
A knock sounded on the door, and I knew it would be Sadie. These days, she knew I existed, but it was a toss-up from one day to the next whether she thought it was a good thing or not.
I shook myself free of the past, of losing the third parent in my short life, and went to the door. “What can I do for you, Sadie?”
Her smile was wobbly, as it always was when she was drunk, and she always seemed to be drunk these days. “You know exactly what I want, Thomas.”
I did. She wanted to fuck. When Sadie was drunk or sad, or worse, drunk and sad, all she wanted was a good fuck. Most nights. I was up for it. How could I not be when she still held my heart? But tonight, I wasn’t in the mood. “You’re in no condition to fuck.”
She smiled again and pushed at my chest so she could step inside my room. “Maybe not, but I’m in the perfect condition to be fucked.”
She sauntered over to the king-size bed that filled my bedroom, kicked off her heels, and fell back.
“I know you want to fuck me, Thomas.” She opened her legs, showing off black lace panties with those fucking garter belts she knew drove me wild.
“I always want to fuck you, Sadie.” My hands slid up her thighs, and I let both thumbs rub her pussy through the lace. Her hips bucked up into my touch.
“And fuck me good, Thomas. Give me what we both want. Put your cock in me.”
Not tonight. She was too fucking drunk to enjoy it, which meant it wasn’t worth the effort. “You want this cock?”
She nodded and flashed a sleepy smile, hips gyrating as I rubbed slow circles around her pussy through her panties.
“You know I do.” Her hips moved faster, and her breathing quickened, but even her arousal was no match for the booze.
“Yes,” she whispered, and seconds later, she was asleep.
I pulled back and adjusted the erection in my pants before I picked her up and carried her to her room, where I undressed her and put her to bed.
And I always would.
For however long she needed me.
CHAPTER NINE
Sadie
“Sweet Jesus, how much did I drink last night?” I stepped into the dining room with a growl. “Close those fucking blinds, would you.” Someone, Thomas, or maybe one of the housekeepers, rushed to do as I asked, and I kept my eyes closed until darkness settled over my eyelids.
“Thank you.”
“Feeling that bottle of Velvet Fire?”
I glared at Thomas’s amused tone, and he chuckled.
“Guess so. Here’s a Bloody Mary to help.” He shoved the ice-cold drink in my hand and guided me to the dining table. “Hungry?”
“No,” I snapped.
“Perfect. There’s scrambled eggs, buttery toast, and that awful Canadian bacon you like.” Thomas was the only one I allowed to ignore my wishes because I knew he, more than anyone, only wanted what was best for me, probably because it was also best for him.
I took a sip of the Bloody Mary, glad he made it extra spicy because I needed something to kick this hangover’s ass. I’d talk to Virgil and see if the distillery could distill out some of whatever the fuck was giving me this killer hangover. I was reaching, but I felt like hell.