I was frustrated over Lorcan’s lack of urgency. He didn’t mind waiting for a week, however I did. But approaching Russian gangsters myself seemed like a very bad idea.
I took a long walk through Central Park as had become a habit in my short time in New York to clear my head.
A twig broke behind me when I meandered up the narrow pathway through a thick area of trees in the park. I glanced around but couldn’t see anyone. I picked up my pace when suddenly a hand clamped over my mouth and I was pulled off the pathway. I struggled, disoriented, until I was turned and looked up into Desmond’s face. He wasn’t in a police uniform.
“I always wear civilian clothes. Makes certain investigations easier.” He lowered his hand. “Don’t scream.”
“I won’t,” I said, still breathless from fear.
“We don’t have long. Your husband has his spies everywhere, and I don’t need a target on my head nor do you.”
“Aren’t you on their target list because of what you do?”
“I haven’t led any investigations against Five-Leaf Clover yet.”
I narrowed my eyes. “What do you want from me?”
“Let’s cut to the chase. We both know you don’t love Lorcan. This marriage is a joke. The only reason why you don’t run far away from your husband is your sister.”
My eyes widened. “My mother called the police. They didn’t know anything.”
Desmond laugh, his eyes searching our surroundings. He barely looked at me, always busy making sure nobody was close. “If you really want to find your sister, Lorcan won’t be the one to help you.”
“Why?”
“Because he’s involved.”
I froze. “How do you know? Lorcan told me something very different.”
“Is it really a surprise to you that he won’t admit to being involved in your sister’s disappearance? He’s slowing down your investigations, isn’t he?”
I didn’t say anything.
“Your sister needed money when she came here, and like any cunning woman, she went looking for it in a man. Lorcan has lots of money and little patience.”
“No one from the community saw them together.”
Desmond chuckled again. “Your sister tried to trick your husband, and he didn’t like that one bit.”
“Why are you telling me this? If you know Lorcan hurt my sister, then why aren’t you arresting him?”
“Because my bosses want the Five-Leaf Clover on a silver platter. They don’t care about one morally grey girl.”
I gritted my teeth. “You want me to gather information? To be your mole?”
“I don’t know how much information you can even gather, or if any of it will be useful, but if you don’t want to end up like your sister and you want a slim chance of maybe still finding her alive, then you should help me however you can.”
I stepped back, closer to the pathway. “I can’t just trust your word. I need proof that Lorcan met Imogen, that he’s involved.”
Desmond gave me a tight smile. “If you can wait that long. I have all the time in the world.”
I turned and ran. I didn’t like Desmond. He was creepy and strange but he was police and Lorcan was a criminal. One of them was lying, but I wasn’t sure how to find out who.
Despite my initial frustration over the week-long wait for more information, the days passed in a flash. I was busy organizing and booking Finn’s flight, talking on the phone with one of the men who would accompany him to make sure they knew about Finn’s needs, and cooking for the potluck. I avoided the park and tried not to overthink Desmond’s words. I had a bad feeling about him. He’d seemed too pushy and needy, as if he would do anything to make progress, even lie.
I didn’t trust Lorcan nor Desmond.
I was at an impasse, at least until Lorcan’s meeting with Sergej or until Desmond decided to show me proof. I really hoped the latter wouldn’t be the case, because it would just be bad for Imogen, it would be bad for me, bad for Finn and even Mum. What a mess.
Lorcan looked amused when he carried two baskets filled with food into the small kitchenette in a side room of the church.
“You’re trying to win them over with delicious food. Very clever.” He pulled me against him and kissed me. Of course, an elderly lady from the community came into the room at that moment. My cheeks blasted with heat and I mumbled an apology, but she just winked at Lorcan.
“You’re the devil,” I whispered in his direction when we left.
The look he gave me sent my head into overdrive with worry. He was up to something.
Walking into church with Lorcan at my side, as husband and wife, I felt a brief flash of shame. This was a bond we’d made before God, but it was nothing but a lie. Lorcan touched my lower back, urging me onward, and I realized I’d stopped right after the threshold, unwilling to parade our sham of a marriage before everyone’s eyes.
But Lorcan wanted us to be seen and so we headed to the very front and sat down. The whispers and curious glances followed us the whole way.
Seamus and his wife soon took their seats beside us.
Gulliver sent me an appreciative nod. He seemed to be the person who was the happiest about the bond, except for Lorcan. My husband definitely found great satisfaction, physically and mentally, in having me tied to him.
I listened halfheartedly to Gulliver’s drivel and was glad when Mass was over. In the past, I’d loved these moments of self-reflection, but now I felt like a fraud.
“Time to confess our sins,” Lorcan murmured in my ear.
I rolled my eyes. “Absolution of your sins doesn’t work if you intend to keep sinning. There’s no free ticket out of sin, even if you have a priest on your payroll.”
Lorcan shrugged. “One day I might stop sinning. Until then weekly confession will have to even my balance.”
“I’m sure that’s not how it works,” I repeated. Lorcan held my hand tightly as he led me toward the confessional box. Uncle Gulliver was still busy chatting with a group of elderly ladies. We were the first people to arrive at the confessional. People obviously knew that it was Lorcan’s turn first, and they didn’t want to be near when he revealed his sins. I had to admit I’d rarely confessed in the past, not because I had never sinned but because I’d never felt comfortable talking about it.
“It looks as if my uncle’s still busy. Maybe you should consider skipping confession today.” I wanted to get out of church as fast as possible. The potluck would be easier to handle. People would chat about food and not sinnings.
Lorcan grinned, as usual enjoying my discomfort. “I’m afraid I can’t do that. We both have sins to confess.”
He pulled me into the confessional box with him then pressed his lips to my ear. “You used me to acquire information, sweet Aislinn. Use our marriage as a device to get what you want. You don’t honor the holy bond of matrimony.”
Used him? He fucked me every night like an animal! And we both enjoyed it. He certainly wasn’t suffering. And I never even wanted this marriage.
As if he could read my thoughts, he chuckled low in my ear. “An outburst of rage is a sin too.”
“You’re talking to me about outbursts of rage?” I whispered indignantly. “I don’t go around beating people with steel chains.”
“It’s therapeutic. Maybe you should give it a try.”
His dry humor almost made me laugh despite the horrible truth of his words.
“This week, I talked to a few old Russian friends about your sister …”
My eyes widened. Why hadn’t he said anything before? “What did you find out?”
I momentarily forgot that he was one of my main suspects when it came to my sister’s disappearance, mainly for lack of other leads and because Desmond had planted the seed of doubt in my mind.
“Quid pro quo, sweet Aislinn.” He sucked my earlobe into his mouth then bit down lightly, his palm cupping my breast and squeezing. “First you suck my cock then you get the answers you desire.”
“I won’t do that in church!”
“Pity. I’m sure you can gather the information by yourself.” He made a move as if to leave the confessional.
I grabbed his arm. “No.”
Lorcan locked the booth once more and smirked down at me. “You want information, and I want to spill my come down your throat right here, right now.”
I closed my eyes briefly, trying to forget where we were. This could be a dressing room or some sort of other booth.
“Are you praying?”
I opened my eyes and got down on my knees before I could change my mind. In the dim light, I could see Lorcan removing his huge member from the confines of his fine dress pants. My mouth almost watered at the sight. What was wrong with me? I’d never been like this. Guilt reared its head. We were in a church, and I was hungry for Lorcan’s dick.
“Suck my cock,” he ordered.
I gave him a disbelieving look. “Aren’t you feeling the slightest bit guilty? We’re in church.”
“And I’m sure spilling my cum down your sweet throat will make me sing hallelujah. Now suck me.”
I leaned forward and took him into my mouth. He smelled of soap as if he’d cleaned himself right before Mass because he knew I’d have his cock in my mouth right after. I circled his tip and sucked on it while my hand cupped his balls.
“Deeper.”
Lorcan cupped the back of my head and slowly worked his shaft into my mouth until I choked and coughed. I was starting to get into it, and Lorcan too, judging by his low breathing. He halted, allowing me to find a slow rhythm with him so deep in my mouth.
“Good, Aislinn. This is so fucking good.”
I hummed, my core clenching at his praise.
Steps sounded and a door creaked…the door to the booth on the other side of the confessional.
I tensed and pulled away, but Lorcan bent down. “If you stop before I tell you to, I won’t give you the information.”
“This is blasphemous,” I muttered.
“You really think God doesn’t have bigger problems than two people getting it on in a man-made confessional?”
“I’m here to listen to your sins,” Gulliver said.
I shook my head, my lips stilling on Lorcan’s tip.
“Oh, Father, I have sinned,” Lorcan droned as he gripped my head and slid his tip into my mouth. The saltiness of his arousal bloomed on my tongue.
He raked his fingers through my hair, nudging me forward, beckoning me to take even more of him into my mouth. His tip pressed against the back of my throat, and I fought my gag reflex from fear of making a sound. My eyes watered as he took my mouth with deep, slow thrusts.
“Son, I’m here to take your confession,” Uncle Gulliver said.
I closed my eyes as Lorcan’s cock stroked along my tongue and pressed against the back of my throat.
“I threw someone into the Hudson a couple of days ago, with a rock attached to his feet.”
My eyes shot open and locked on Lorcan. He, too, was watching me, a smirk playing on his face as he took my mouth while confessing gruesome crimes. He kept talking, revealing more horrors in a calm, unapologetic voice, and I kept sucking him. To my horror, I soon became uncomfortably damp between my legs. Despite his horrendous words, my body responded to Lorcan, as always.
Maybe I was as monstrous as my husband.
“Oh, Father,” Lorcan said, sounding tormented but the vibration in his voice wasn’t from restrained emotion. His balls pulsated under my fingers, and then he spilled into me. I had trouble swallowing with his cock buried so deeply in my mouth. Lorcan pulled out a bit only to establish a slower rhythm of pumping into me, still shaking from the intensity of his orgasm. I didn’t shy away, kept sucking him. By now, my arousal trickled out of me and so were the tears. I couldn’t believe what I was doing, what it was doing to me.
I’d waited for marriage to have sex—albeit not intentionally, but I’d given it up for all the wrong reasons to the wrong man. And worst of all, I enjoyed it. Lorcan stilled, his eyes closed and his chest heaving. When his eyes opened again, they held the same hunger as before, and my body exploded with bone-deep need.
“I need time to think about my sins. Give me a moment,” Lorcan drawled, not even hesitating to lie to a priest. I wasn’t sure why this even still surprised me.
“Of course, son.”
I almost rolled my eyes at Gulliver’s benevolent tone, when he usually always bowed to Lorcan’s every command.
Lorcan stroked my hair as if I were a good kitty cat. I sat back and let his cock slide out of my mouth. I wiped my mouth in disgust, furious at my husband, at my body, at the situation Imogen put me in. I shoved to my feet, righted my clothes and my hair, and left the confessional before Lorcan could force me to do more. But what could possibly be worse than what we had already done? Maybe he’d fuck me right on the altar?
The elderly ladies gave me curious looks when I fled the confessional. I was just glad that Gulliver hadn’t seen me, though one of the old ladies would probably mention something to him.
I needed time to think, even if my own thoughts often frightened me nowadays. I had to come to terms with what was happening, had to figure out a way to stop it. Lorcan was twisting me into someone I hardly recognized. Had this wanton girl always been part of me? Had she lay dormant, waiting for a sinner to awaken her. I choked on a laugh. I was going crazy.
I hurried down into the crypt and kneeled on the cold floor behind a stone sarcophagus. I could still taste Lorcan, still feel him. I closed my eyes. Maybe he was trying to show me how easily I was lured to sin. Maybe he hoped I’d feel better about his sinful ways. But having sex in church and drowning someone in a river were entirely different levels of sin.
Right?
I wasn’t sure what Gulliver’s answer would be to that. He’d probably be more horrified by my confession than Lorcan’s. Soon, the distant murmurs of the congregation faded away. They’d probably moved out to the courtyard where the potluck would take place. I got up, my legs stiff from the cold and I dared to return to the nave.
It was empty except for an old man leaving the confessional. Not sure why and what I could confess, but I headed for the booth and went inside.
“I’m here to collect your sins,” Uncle Gulliver said.
I’d always been honest in the confessional box, never omitted my sins. Until today. I couldn’t tell my uncle that Lorcan had fucked my mouth during his confession, that I’d eagerly sucked him off and gotten off on it. That my panties were still soaked with my lust, that just thinking about it made me cringe with shame and quiver with lust.
“I married a murderer,” I said instead of all the sins I should have confessed.
There was a pause. Gulliver must have recognized my voice, and my confession probably was a pretty obvious clue too. “Love isn’t a sin, and marriage is a holy bond, child.”
“Even if love and marriage are both a lie.”
“Marriage can’t be a lie if it’s agreed upon before God, and love sometimes takes years to build.”
Love. There would never be love between Lorcan and me. Lust. Oh, yes. Plenty of lust. But wasn’t lust a sin too?
“Marriage isn’t easy. It’s not supposed to be. It’s about sacrifice. God tests us that way too. Don’t fail.”
I shook my head. Was this really about God wanting this marriage? Or Gulliver being worried about getting in trouble with Lorcan? I considered telling him about talking to Desmond. But that wasn’t a sin. Or was it because I was doing it behind Lorcan’s back? Because it might lead to me betraying my own husband? I wasn’t sure what the rules were in this case. I supposed Gulliver would amend them to fit Lorcan’s desires.
“Lorcan’s been looking for you. You shouldn’t cause your husband worry.”
Gulliver’s words tore me from my thoughts. He seemed eager to get me out of the confessional box. Maybe he was worried what secrets I might reveal. “Of course not,” I said. “Thank you for listening to my sins.”
I got up, not waiting for another word from Gulliver.
Seamus was waiting in front of the booth when I left and he escorted me outside toward the courtyard where someone had already placed my food on the table. Lorcan stood beside it and was chatting with a group of men who were digging into my cottage pie. I went over to them with a forced smile. Soon, more people hovered in front of my table, eating my food and praising it. Nobody seemed to have noticed the embarrassing episode in the confessional box. Lorcan, of course, kept giving me barely veiled hungry looks that made my neck flush with heat and my blood pulse with rage.
“You should open a restaurant, my dear,” one of the older ladies said.
“She should,” Lorcan agreed.
“It’s actually always been my dream to open up an Irish restaurant with classics but also modern interpretations.”
I flushed when Lorcan regarded me curiously. I always felt silly when I talked about it.
“The Plough Pub needs a new owner. We need good food from home in our community. The last cottage pie I ate was a disgrace,” another older woman said.
“We’ll see what we can do,” Lorcan said.
I wondered if he was being serious. Would he really help me open a restaurant?
And what the hell was I thinking?
I considered working with the police, betraying my husband, and running from him as soon as possible. I didn’t have a future in New York. Definitely not as a restaurant owner through Lorcan’s charity.
I was glad when the potluck was over. My brain needed a break from all the possibilities.
Once we were in Lorcan’s car and on our way home, I relaxed slightly, but my reprieve was short lived. “You ran before I was done with you.”
I gave him a confused look, unable to follow his train of thought.
“In the confessional.” His smirk got my blood pumping again, but not in arousal for once.
“You made me suck your dick in front of my uncle!”
“He didn’t see it, didn’t even realize what was happening, Aislinn.”
“But I know what I did. How am I supposed to face him?”
“With a little practice, you’ll get used to sinning.”
I crossed my arms and looked out of the window.
“Is your pussy still wet?”
I sank my teeth into my lower lip, scoffing. “I’m not going to fuck you now. I’m mad at you.”
“Angry fucking is the best fucking.”
Lorcan and I didn’t have a relationship in the traditional sense. We fucked like animals. I wished I could pretend I didn’t enjoy it, but my body was aflame with pure lust the second I saw my brutal husband. Despite my words in the car, we ended up in bed.
I hated myself a little for this. At the same time, I felt a sick satisfaction when I thought about Patrick, who was probably getting less action than me.
“If you really want to open a restaurant, I’ll support you. I think it’ll do you good to have a purpose and to get out of the house for other reasons than to snoop around. And once you’ve found your sister and realize she doesn’t need saving, it’ll be something else to keep you busy.
I turned on my side. Lorcan was already facing me, and it brought us very close. I flushed at the sudden proximity. While we’d already seen each other naked several times, and it rarely embarrassed me anymore, these intimate moments that weren’t of a sexual nature felt foreign. Lorcan and I were strangers.
“Why do you care? Wouldn’t you prefer if I spend the day at home, cleaning and cooking, and waiting for you.”
Lorcan gently tapped my forehead. “What’s in there needs a challenge, something to keep busy or you’ll just get in trouble, sweet Aislinn.”
I huffed. “I wasn’t prone to trouble before you came into my life.”
“I wasn’t the one who auctioned himself off in the Cunt Yard.”
“Won’t you ever stop reminding me?”
“I don’t think so.”
He chuckled and I couldn’t help but laugh a little too. “I want you to have your own life. I have the clan, and it keeps me very busy. You should have something too.”
“Soon, Finn will be here. I won’t have time to work in a restaurant all day, much less to build a concept, a menu, and everything else that’s involved in creating a successful business.”
“True. But if you decide to keep him here, he’ll be in daycare or kindergarten eventually. That’ll give you time, and no one will mind if you have him in the restaurant. You’ll have staff. You’ll be the boss. No one’s going to tell you when to work.”
Was Lorcan really considering having Finn live with us indefinitely? I had a feeling when Lorcan imagined having a son, it was someone to follow in his footsteps, someone who didn’t have a stutter or spasms. Maybe he liked the general concept of a child under his roof but I was sure he’d soon grow tired of the responsibility.
“Sure, but it’ll be my restaurant, my responsibility. I can’t just show up a couple of hours per day. I want to cook and be around.” I sighed.
The fact I was even discussing this seemed surreal, but it also made me ridiculously giddy. A restaurant had always been a very distant dream. With Lorcan by my side, it was a possibility, but I didn’t want to use Lorcan’s power and money.
I shook my head. “Maybe one day. Not yet. Not until I’ve found a routine here with Finn and I know what happened to Imogen.”
“You don’t want to rely on me,” Lorcan mused with a hint of bitterness.
“I want to reach my goals alone.”
“That’s not how marriage works. Maybe one day you’ll allow yourself to really consider this a marriage.”
I didn’t say anything. Lorcan always pretended like his heart was in this marriage, but I didn’t believe that. Maybe, as with children, he liked the general idea and had an idealized image of marriage in his head from what he witnessed with his parents. “Our marriage is based on blackmail.”
“Doesn’t mean it can’t develop in the right direction.”
“I still don’t even understand why you wanted to marry me in the first place. I’m sure you had many opportunities to marry an Irish girl.”
Lorcan traced a finger along my arm and hip. “I liked you the first moment I saw you.”
“So it was solely physical.”
“Sex is important, attraction too, but there was more. I liked the modest small town girl vibe you gave off with that hint off sass. I knew you were the kind of lass who’d drink a Guinness with me after a hearty meal, who wasn’t unfamiliar with hard work.”
I laughed indignantly. “I’m from Dublin.”
“Yes, but deep down you aren’t a big city girl. You like the quiet corner, the dark alleys. You like the next-door pub and familiar faces.”
“You could see all that from one look at me in church?”
“A few more looks to be honest, but yes. I’m good at reading people, but I have a feeling you still hold on to a few secrets.”
“Doesn’t everyone? Don’t you?”
“We all do. Some to protect others, some to protect us.”
