I arrived at church with five minutes to spare. My parents had ingrained a respect of the church and its servants into me, and though I didn’t overly like Gulliver, old habits died hard. After a hard day at the docks, I rushed back home to take a quick shower and dress in a suit and jacket, minus the tie.
Aislinn stepped out of her uncle’s apartment and froze when she spotted me waiting in front of the church doors. “You’re here.”
I cocked an eyebrow. “I was asked to come as part of this bond, if I’m not mistaken.”
Flustered, she nodded and smoothed down her dress. It was a soft lavender dress with buttons down the entire front and a wide belt around her slim waist. She wore white pumps with a modest heel. She looked like a good Catholic Irish lass, and a phone call home this morning had revealed that was exactly what she was. One of our men over there had met with Patrick for an intense talk about Aislinn and even though she’d reeked of innocence despite the compromising situation at the Doom Loop, his words confirmed a suspicion I hadn’t dared entertain. This would make our wedding night endeavors all the more entertaining.
I held out my arm. “Let’s go in.”
She hesitated briefly before accepting my arm in a barely there touch.
I stifled a smirk as I led her into church. Gulliver was in the front, preparing everything for the evening service. He turned and folded his hands in front of his stomach as he waited for us to head toward him.
“In less than two weeks, someone else will lead you down this aisle toward me.”
Aislinn’s fingers on my arm flexed. “I don’t know who could do it.”
“We’ll figure it out.”
“Lorcan, Aislinn, I’m glad you could make it. I always insist on such a conversation before I marry a couple. It gives me a chance to see their sincerity.”
He paused.
My desire for Aislinn was sincere, and so was my interest in her. But we all knew he wouldn’t bear witness to our true love today, though the Catholic Church didn’t necessarily require love, only devotion.
I could feel Aislinn’s impatience roll off of her in waves. She didn’t want any of this, which made me want it all the more.
We followed Gulliver into a book-stacked office off to the side. He took a seat in a wide armchair, and we had to sit across from him on a narrow sofa. I made sure our legs were touching, relishing in Aislinn’s very small shudder and the goose bumps spreading along her skin.
“What do you expect from marriage?” Gulliver asked after almost ten minutes of a monologue regarding the formalities of our union.
Was he serious?
I hadn’t come here to share personal details. “Ladies first,” I said.
“I expect honesty, faithfulness, trust …” Aislinn trailed off.
I hadn’t expected her to answer at all, but definitely not honestly.
When it became obvious that she wouldn’t continue, Gulliver turned to me.
“I agree.”
Gulliver knew better than to push me and Aislinn made a face as if she didn’t believe a word out of my mouth.
Gulliver took his bible and began to read a few passages that referenced marriage and its importance. “Why don’t you attend my evening service? That way our community could see you two together. It would send an important message.”
Aislinn shifted on the sofa, hesitation filling her eyes.
“That’s a good idea, Gulliver,” I said, taking Aislinn’s hand and bringing it up to my lips to plant a kiss against her knuckles.
Her answering smile was stiff.
The news about the wedding had spread like wildfire, not only among my men but also in the community, and soon it would be widely known in the underworld too.
Aislinn wanted to find a place in the church early to avoid too much attention, but that was the last thing I had in mind.
“We’ll wait for our grand entrance,” I told her and held her hand to keep her in place. We had only three minutes to spare when I finally tugged Aislinn through the side entrance of the church. The hushed murmurs died down and then picked up with even more fervor. I led Aislinn to the second row, where I usually sat and greeted a couple of my men. Most of them only attended Sunday service, but a few needed more godly support to deal with our daily business.
I sank down and Aislinn had no choice but to sit right beside me as I was still holding her hand. The only other person in our row was an elderly lady, but she sat at the other end. Usually people stayed away from my bench, not because I didn’t allow people to sit near me.
The congregation fell silent as Gulliver began his service. Aislinn tried to free her hand from my hold but instead I put our linked hands on her lap as I watched Gulliver’s sermon with rapt attention.
Eventually she gave up and focused on her uncle’s words. When I was sure she was completely distracted, I slid two fingers into a gap between her dress buttons. She stiffened when my fingertips brushed her mound, sliding lower until a sharp intake of breath from Aislinn told me I’d found the spot I was looking for. Aislinn tried to shove my hand away but I thwarted her attempt, stifling a grin when her nails dug into my skin. I increased the pressure on her sweet button. Aislinn put her second hand on top of mine as well, glancing around nervously. No one could see where my two fingers were. Besides, people were too focused on Gulliver anyway. She tried crossing her legs but wedged my fingers against her pussy, increasing the pressure even more. She leaned closer. “What are you doing?”
“Isn’t that obvious? I’m trying to make you sing hallelujah.”
Aislinn sent me a scathing look then turned back to the front, straightening her back. I could see the stubborn glint in her eyes and determined set of her mouth. She was trying to fight it—me—and the havoc I was wreaking in her body. Soon, her panties became wet to the touch, and her fighting was for naught. I increased the pressure, moved my fingers despite their confinement against her nub. Her teeth sank into her lower lip and a flush spread over her throat and neckline. Her nails dug even deeper into my hand, and then I felt the slightest spasms of her pussy against my fingers as she exhaled a shuddery breath. Her eyes remained focused on the front of the church, her expression a mask of interest. To the rest of the congregation, it looked as if Aislinn was obediently listening to Gulliver’s sermon, but I knew her mind was far away as she fought to hide her release. I stilled my fingers, smirking at the wetness that gathered against them.
I kept my fingers against her pussy, basking in my triumph and enjoying her heat and lust. Aislinn ignored me completely. She still thought she could win this game. She thought she could stay in control in our marriage, maybe even use me to her advantage to find her sister, but I had ten years and many fucked-up mind games on her.
Aislinn
I couldn’t believe what Lorcan just did. I’d hoped to avoid spending too much time with him before our wedding day, and secretly I wished that I’d miraculously find Imogen before then so we could run away before I had to say “I do”.
My cheeks were flaming, and so was my entire body. I was acutely aware of how my panties were stuck to my still pulsating flesh. Lorcan had barely moved his fingers, but the pressure and the situation had enhanced his slight touch. I’d just come in the middle of church, in the middle of service. I felt a little sick and guilty thinking about it. If it hadn’t drawn too much attention to me, to us, I would have left the church right now. I wanted to be as far away from Lorcan as possible.
His fingers were still pressed against my pussy, and I was still tingling. Still swollen. Still on the verge of another release. I didn’t understand my body, how it could succumb so easily to Lorcan’s rough charm. I knew without a doubt that my body would have clammed up if Patrick had tried anything in public with me.
Lorcan finally slid his fingers out of my dress when we had to get up. I would have breathed a sigh of relief if a new worry hadn’t entered my mind: what if my thin linen dress showed traces of what we’d done? I’d die of mortification if the people behind us saw a wet spot. Maybe they’d think I’d peed my own pants, which I’d honestly prefer to the truth.
Lorcan and I stood and stepped out of our pew. Soon people gathered around to congratulate us to our upcoming wedding. I kept up my smile. This was for Imogen. It wasn’t the end of my story. It was only a short blip in my life plan.
Lorcan’s body became tense and my interest was piqued, when a thin man with carrot orange hair came over to us. “Congrats to the Devaney clan on this promising bond. And congrats to you Miss Killeen. I’m Desmond.”
My eyebrows climbed up my face. His tone suggested a familiarity that wasn’t there, as if he knew more about me and my family than I did.
“My wife won’t need to know you on a first-name basis. Shouldn’t you seek moral guidance at your police station?” Lorcan asked sharply.
“Sometimes I like to return to my roots.” He nodded a farewell before he left.
“Traitor.”
“Snitch.”
I glanced around curiously at the people who’d muttered curses among themselves.
“He was part of the Irish community before he became a police officer?”
“Indeed.” Lorcan fixed me with a hard look. “Your search for your sister won’t take you to the police, Aislinn. If you want information, you’ll ask me, nobody else. Am I making myself clear?”
The threat was unmistakable, and I had to admit, I was scared of Lorcan. During our sexual encounter, I almost forgot who he was. But now, as I stared into his ruthless, cold eyes, it was crystal clear the kind of man he was. He cupped my neck, which might have looked loving from an outsider’s point of view, but his grip was too tight, not yet painful but with the promise that it could be. “Am I making myself clear, Aislinn?”
“Yes,” I gritted out. “No police.”
He nodded once then released me. Gulliver stepped out in that moment, and Lorcan glanced down at his watch. “I have business at the docks.” Gulliver nodded.
Lorcan turned to me. “I’ll give Seamus’ wife your number. She’ll help you go wedding dress shopping.” He leaned down and pressed a chaste kiss against my cheek. Goose bumps erupted all over my body. “For now, I bid you farewell, sweet Aislinn.”
He stepped back and turned his broad back to me. I watched him leave, my hands balling to fists.
“Everything alright?” Gulliver asked hesitantly as if he wasn’t sure he really wanted to know the answer.
“Fine.” What if the police knew more about Imogen? Mum had called from Ireland and reported her missing. They hadn’t been overly concerned. Apparently, they thought Imogen was just enjoying her freedom in the big city.
Six days before the wedding, Lorcan sent me wedding dress shopping with Seamus’ wife, a short, curvy girl a couple of years my senior with a boisterous laugh, wild honey-colored locks and big brown eyes. She greeted me with a tight hug which caught me by surprise considering this was the first time we’d met. “Hey, Aislinn, I’m so excited to help you pick your dress.”
Despite being Irish, I had to listen carefully to understand her thick accent that revealed she came from somewhere around Donegal. I’d mostly given up on my accent since I’d started working at the bar, or at the very least learned to tone it down enough so tourists found it entertaining but could still understand me. She definitely had hit me with the full force of her accent, so I let my own accent come through. “I wish it weren’t for my wedding to a Devaney,” I said with a smile.
She clucked her tongue. “You said yes, lass.”
“Do you think Lorcan would have accepted my answer if it was no?”
She gave a small shrug. “Seamus always talks highly of Lorcan, and what I’ve seen of him so far hasn’t been unpleasant.”
“I suppose he didn’t beat someone to death with an iron chain in front of you, then.”
Maeve shook her head, her lips pressing together, but apart from that she didn’t give a reaction. Maybe Seamus shared the gruesome details of clan business with her. I didn’t dare ask if they’d married for love. I didn’t want to rip open possible wounds.
“I hope I didn’t reveal too much. You know what Seamus does, right?”
She laughed. “I do. Hard not to. I’ve lost count of the times he came home covered in blood or injured. Had I known I would have taken a few medical courses.”
I tried to imagine what my life with Lorcan would be like? So far my mind refused to think farther than our wedding day. I couldn’t for the life of me imagine being Lorcan’s nurse when he returned home with injuries. I couldn’t imagine sharing a life, apartment, or bed with Lorcan. Period. I would be dragged into Lorcan’s darkness, no doubt, but I would try my hardest not to let it change me.
“Shall we?” Maeve motioned at her watch. I followed her down the street, looking behind my back to see if someone was following us. “Are we being watched?”
Maeve looked over her shoulder then frowned at me. “Seamus doesn’t watch my every step. Maybe Lorcan thinks you need to be watched so you don’t run. Will you run?”
“No. I’m here for a reason.”
She nodded, curiosity reflecting in her kind eyes, but she didn’t prod. Maybe she could see in my face that I didn’t want to talk about it right now. She linked our arms. “Even if you’re not excited for your wedding, that doesn’t mean you can’t be excited about the dress. I couldn’t go dress shopping with my younger sister last year when she married, so I need to live vicariously through you, Aislinn.”
Despite the cheeriness in her voice, I could hear a subtle note of sadness.
“Did you come to New York for Seamus?”
“Yes. When he asked for my hand, I knew I’d have to move to America. Seamus won’t return to Ireland as long as Lorcan is in New York.”
“Here it is,” Maeve said as we arrived in front of a small store with a shop window with frosted glass so you couldn’t see inside.
A faded sign above the door read: “Talulla’s Sewing and laundry Service”.
I cocked an eyebrow. I didn’t have high expectations, but this wasn’t what I’d imagined when I thought about wedding dress shopping.
Maeve patted my arm. “Trust me, Talulla is a magician with a sewing machine and especially an embroidery needle.”
Maeve opened the door for me. A tiny bell over the door announced our arrival. When I stepped inside, the scent of detergent hit me. The shop was small and the walls behind the counter were covered with laundry waiting to be picked up.
Nobody was inside.
“Tal!” Maeve roared, making me jump. She was short but apparently her ample chest could resonate. “Tal!”
I had to stifle a snicker. It was the first time in days that I felt like laughing. Maeve slanted a look at me with a sheepish smile. “I had to watch my four younger siblings. That’s where I learned to shout.”
The row of trousers draped over clothes hangers parted right in the middle of the counter and a tall woman, probably only a couple of years older than me, with black hair and brown eyes slipped out. She was what we called Black Irish because of her dark hair.
“Why are you causing such a ruckus?” She gave Maeve a disapproving look before her eyes settled on me. Her expression remained stoic.
“I’m here with an important customer.”
“All customers are equally important,” Talulla corrected, and I immediately liked her despite her rough charm. I hadn’t expected to find so many Irish women my age in New York, but the Irish community in this part of the city was tight-knit and reminded me of home, which diminished my homesickness a tiny bit.
“Oh shut up,” Maeve said, grabbing my arm and dragging me behind the counter. “I doubt that’s what you said when you measured Lorcan for his suit yesterday.”
“Lorcan was here?”
“Of course,” Talulla said with a hint of pride. “Follow me.”
She shoved the trousers aside, revealing a narrow door. When we stepped into the room behind it, I couldn’t help but smile. This looked more like a place where I could see myself buying a wedding dress. Shelves stacked with rolls of fabric lined the walls on the left and right. A table with a sewing machine was squeezed into a corner in the back, and another table with sketches was pushed against the wall right beside it. In the center of the room a low podium and a tall mirror waited for whomever needed to be fitted.
“I have four basic wedding dress designs which can be adapted to your liking and will be fitted to your frame. Take a loo. They’re over there.” I followed her pointer finger toward a rack with four white dresses.
“Don’t forget you need to be able to dance,” Maeve added. “I made the mistake of choosing a heavy fabric, which made climbing on the tables really arduous.”
“We’re dancing on tables?” I asked. I’d never been invited to a wedding, and the few wedding celebrations I witnessed at the Merchant’s Arch had been far from boisterous.
“Eventually, yes. At the last wedding, the bridegroom fell off the table and broke his elbow.”
I exchanged a look with Talulla, who shrugged. “I have a couple of lighter fabrics. If you intend to get wild, then I wouldn’t pick a long train.”
Nodding, I began looking at the dresses. Though this wasn’t a wedding that meant anything to me, I was suddenly overcome with sadness that neither Mum nor Imogen were here.
Maeve touched my shoulder. “You’re sad your mother’s not here?”
“How do you know?”
“I would be.”
“It’s okay. She’s safer in Dublin, and she doesn’t approve of this marriage anyway.” That was a huge understatement. I was fairly sure the only thing stopping Mum from flying over and dragging me away from the altar was her lack of money and her reluctance to leave Finn alone.
I pulled out a silky A-line dress with long bell-sleeves and a deep V neckline. It was embroidered in white, but I had something else in mind. “Can you embroider the sleeves, neckline and hem with Irish flowers and clover leaves?”
Talulla’s eyes lit up. “Of course. I’ll have to work night and day to get it done in time.”
“Oh, I didn’t mean to cause you extra work.”
“Nonsense,” she said with a smile. “This is your special day, and I like the idea. It’ll be beautiful. Don’t worry, it’ll be done in time. Now slip that dress on so I can take your measurements and get working. I have a reputation to uphold.”
After an hour, Maeve and I left the shop for lunch. Talulla had been too busy to join us. “Do you want Irish food?”
Usually, I would have chosen to eat local food but right this moment, I felt a little lost and homesick and needed the comfort of a familiar meal. “Are there any good Irish restaurants around here?”
Maeve shrugged. “There are a few decent places, but none of them are outstanding. I’d offer to cook for you, but my skills aren’t outstanding either. I think Seamus only eats it because he loves me.”
“Don’t worry. It’s fine. I’ve lived in Dublin all my life. There are many places that have horrible Irish food for tourists, so I’ve seen it all.”
Maeve led us into a pub which offered a variety of Irish food. We settled at a rustic wooden table that was slightly sticky in places. “Two Guinness,” Maeve called when the owner didn’t come out from behind the bar quick enough. I grinned. She was my type of girl. I couldn’t help but wonder how she’d gotten involved with someone like Seamus.
The owner set two glasses of Guinness down in front of us with a bit too much force, spilling some of the liquid. That explained why my sleeve was stuck to the table. It wasn’t because he was rude either. His hands were shaking. He put down two menus in front of us then returned to the bar.
“Does he know we’re involved with the mob?” It was strange that I had to include myself in this now.
Maeve raised her glass and took a long sip then nodded. “Of course. This is a small community. Gossip spreads fast. Why?”
“Because he was shaking so much.”
Maeve burst out laughing. “Old Donáll has Parkinson’s. He’s not terrified of us.”
I flushed and took a sip from my Guinness. “How do people in the community feel about the Five-Leaf Clover gang?”
“They respect them. Many think they’re protecting our values and making sure the Chinese don’t take over our area. A bit of fear’s involved too. But everyone knows what to do not to get in trouble, so it’s all fine.”
“Do you know Desmond?”
“He’s police, which means he’s trouble, Aislinn. Stay away from him. You should try to gain Lorcan’s trust if you want to make the marriage work.”
I didn’t want to make this marriage work, and the only reason why I’d consider gaining Lorcan’s trust was to find out details about Imogen. I wasn’t sure if he really knew anything, but Lorcan had men in the Doom Loop and Imogen was a striking Irish girl. I was sure someone had mentioned something to him.
“I came to New York to find my sister, not to stay, and then Lorcan crossed my path.”
“I hope you find her soon. Lorcan is a resourceful man. He can help you.”
I was sure he could help me if that was what he wanted and what served his interests. But what if Lorcan was somehow involved? He was part of the underworld where Imogen disappeared.
Gaining Lorcan’s trust might bring me closer to Imogen but maybe Desmond could be an option too. I just had to be stealthy about it.
