Dinner with Daddy

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SIGGY SHADE

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 Contents

Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Epilogue

About the Author

Also by Siggy Shade

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Copyright © 2023 by Siggy Shade

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No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means,
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 Content Warnings

This book contains graphic sexual content and elements that may be
triggering to readers. Please review the list of content warnings to make
sure you’re comfortable with reading this book before you continue:
Age gap
Assassination
Breeding kink
Cheating
Death threats
Domestic violence (threat)
Narcissism
Pregnancy

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 Chapter One

I didn’t know Connor was a two-timing asshole until the evidence

slapped me in the face.
Our relationship isn’t perfect—he works too hard and I have two jobs,
but he has never shown any interest in other women. It was his idea for us
to save for marriage and a baby.
Right now, all I can do is grab his door frame and scream. It’s a high-
pitched guttural howl as the knife of betrayal slices through my heart.
Connor is the first to rise from beneath the white sheets, his blond hair
tousled, his lips swollen and red. I can already tell from how the silk
puddles around his hips that he’s naked.
The redhead beside him rolls to the end of the mattress, lands in a
crouch, and dives beneath the bed. She emerges seconds later, still naked
but now holding a revolver.
My stomach plummets to the marble floor. I stagger back, my heart
leaping to my throat. “Fuck!”
It’s Lyra, Connor’s stepmother. More importantly, she’s advancing
toward me with the gun. The older woman’s eyes are crazed, her irises a
tiny ring of gray around blown pupils.
Adrenaline kicks me up the ass, shifting me from fight to flight. My
palms rise to the ceiling, and I blurt, “Don’t shoot!”
 I should have taken on that extra shift at the hospital. Should have
stopped at the cafeteria for fish and chips. How has wanting to surprise my
boyfriend deteriorated to being held at gunpoint by his stepmother?
“Please,” I rasp and back toward into the hallway. “Put down the gun.”
She hisses through her teeth, looking more murderous than Medusa with
her mane of red curls.
“Lyra, don’t,” Connor says from the bed.
“We could dispose of her real quick,” Lyra says. “That way, she won’t
tell your father.”
“No, no, no, no,” I say. “I won’t say a word.”
Connor launches himself on the older woman and tackles her to the
floor.
I pivot, not bothering to watch the scuffle, and sprint down the hallway.
For once in our eighteen-month relationship, I wish Connor lived in a tiny
apartment with fire exits and not in his father’s oversized mansion.
My Crocs squeak on the marble floor as I reach the grand staircase of
iron railings. I regret my choice of footwear because right now, I need
running shoes. Lyra could break free of Connor at any moment and shoot
me in the back.
I always knew there was something off about that woman. She married
Connor’s dad, knowing he was one of the most powerful players within the
Irish mob. Men like that don’t marry just anyone.
The blast of a gunshot has me stumbling down the stairs like hell just
opened up and its hounds are snapping at my feet. Connor bellows, making
the fine hairs on the back of my head stand on end.
Terror quickens my steps. Did he just get shot? Do I even give a shit?
Maybe—but he’s the only thing standing between his murderous
stepmother and certain death.
“Brianna,” Connor yells.
 I reach the bottom of the stairs, stumble to my feet, and sprint across the
downstairs hallway. Blood roars between my ears and sweat stings my eyes.
I shove aside my mounting panic and fumble for my car keys.
My fingers close around the cold metal, and I reach for the door handle.
Nearly there.
A heavy body slams into my shoulder, pushing me into the wood with a
shuddering thud. Shockwave of pain explode down one side of my body,
and all the breath leaves my lungs in a scream.
Connor grabs me by the shoulders, spins me around, and shoves me
back against the door. The base of my head hits the oak surface, filling my
vision with stars.
He glares down at me, his eyes arctic. “Where do you think you’re
going?”
The force of his cold rage freezes me to the spot. I’m trapped in his icy
stare. My lips part and I’m about to speak but a set of footsteps echo across
the hallway.
Lyra descends the stairs, wearing an ivory silk kimono with sleeves that
barely conceal her gun. Cold dread plunges my stomach to the marble floor.
Part of me hoped that she got shot, but I’ve run out of luck.
I’m so dead.
“Let me go,” I stutter.
“Not until you listen to what I have to say,” he growls.
Tears prick the backs of my eyes. I’m not delusional or weak, but this
situation is so fucked. It should be me who’s furious—not him.
Frustration and rage mingle with my terror, making me swallow back a
surge of nausea. I’ve faced down loan sharks, debt collectors, and all
manner of bailiffs. Some came with court orders, others just got vicious.
But they were all doing their jobs.
This is the first time anyone has betrayed me and then followed up with
gunshots and violence.
 “Connor,” I whisper, my voice breathy. “Tell Lyra not to shoot. I won’t
say a word to your dad.”
His eyes sharpen, his gaze assessing me for the truth.
“Let’s end her,” Lyra says. “There’s enough time to clean up the mess
before Bard returns.”
Panic spikes through my heart and steals my breath. I jerk in Connor’s
grasp. “No!”
Connor tilts his head. “It’s in Brianna’s best interest to keep this secret,
otherwise who’s going to pay off her family’s debts?”
The air grows tense. So thick that I have to force breaths in and out of
my lungs. As the silence continues to stretch, my gaze bounces from Lyra to
my treacherous ex. I can’t believe he’s so rational, but I also can’t believe
he’s a cheat. Up until now, he was so focused on building our future.
Connor never showed any interest in other women apart from me.
However, I have to admit that he has a point. My salary barely covers
our living expenses, let alone Dad’s casino bills, but I’ll be damned if I let
Connor talk like he’s doing me a favor.
Connor acts like he wants to keep me alive, but I’ve seen him at his
most determined. This isn’t it. He needs to understand that I’m not
disposable. He’s the one who needs me more than I need him.
Without my connections and skills, Connor couldn’t operate his
underground fight club. I don’t just administer first aid but ferry serious
casualties to the hospital so he doesn’t get caught by the police.
“Do you have a medic lined up for Saturday night?” I ask.
Connor’s face drops, and all traces of the icy bastard melt as his mouth
goes slack. Finally, he’s shaken. I try not to feel bitter that his precious fight
club means more to him than my life.
He turns to Lyra and barks, “Put down the gun.”
Lyra’s nostrils flare and she purses her lips into a tight line. Without a
word of protest, she slips the pistol into her kimono pocket. Nothing in that
woman’s glare says she wants me to leave the mansion alive.
When Connor turns back to meet my gaze, his eyes are shining with
remorse. “Brianna, oh my god, I’m so sorry.” The words tumble from his
lips. “I don’t know what just came over me, but you ran and I got scared.
This is so fucked up. Why did you run?”
He continues this jumble of words, alternating between apologizing and
blaming me for not staying to hear him out. My ears ring, and pressure
builds in my chest like a teakettle until I’m bursting to yell at him to be
quiet.
Everything about this man screams deception. His touch burns my skin
like hot knives, and his words infuse my wounds with salt. I pull at my
arms, trying to loosen his grip, but he’s too strong. Behind us, Lyra’s hand
twitches toward the gun in her kimono pocket.
“We did this for you,” Connor says, his voice breaking.
I flinch. “What?”
“Dad won’t let me propose until I can afford to keep a wife. I know how
much you want us to start a family.”
My jaw tightens. Not anymore. At least not with him.
“Lyra’s helping me take over the business,” he says. “This time next
week, I’ll be in charge of the money laundering operations and free to give
you the life you want.”
Bullshit.
I should nod, smile, murmur some words of approval—say whatever it
takes for him to release my wrists so I can leave, but nothing he says makes
sense.
Connor’s dad never showed us a hint of disapproval. He’s a hundred
times more present than mine and even hosts family dinners. There’s no
reason why Connor would want to steal from Mr. Dearg other than ambition
and greed.
“Why are you sleeping with her?” I flick my head toward Lyra.
 He shakes his head. “It meant nothing. It was just a one-off to seal the
deal.”
My gaze slides to his stepmother, whose eyes narrow. The crazy bitch
still wants me dead.
Any other time, I would call bullshit, but there’s no relationship to
salvage. I could never love a cheater, let alone a violent one who gaslights. I
want to spit in his face, but Lyra might fill mine with bullets.
If I don’t get out of here this instant, I’ll never leave this place alive.
“Oh, okay.” I lick my lips, wondering if Connor has the skills to
organize a heist. “What are you planning?”
“We’re staging the assassination for Dad’s birthday dinner on Friday.”
My stomach drops.
Murder?
“How?” I rasp.
“Don’t answer that,” Lyra snaps.
Connor kisses me on the nose, his grip loosening. “Once he’s out of the
way, I’ll propose, and we’ll be together. I’ll even give you that baby.”
Drawing back, I force my lips into what I hope is a convincing smile.
“A-alright,” I murmur. “I should go. Leave you two to finalize your
plans.”
Connor gives me a tight hug, and it takes every ounce of willpower not
to stiffen. I hold my features in a neutral mask until he opens the front door,
letting in a gust of fresh air.
Stepping out on trembling legs, I back toward my car. My hurt and
outrage and betrayal can wait. I need to make my escape before Lyra
decides to use her gun.

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 Chapter Two

M inutes later, I’m speeding down the driveway with my gaze fixed on
the rearview mirror. It’s dark, and all I can see of the mansion are the lights
shining from its tall windows. Lyra could be positioned behind any one of
them with a sniper rifle.
The only thing keeping me from falling apart is the hope that Connor
won’t find another medic at such short notice. Fuck. I can’t believe he could
cheat after all that talk about our future. Then threaten me and act like it
didn’t happen?
Tears prick my eyes, but I blink them back. I won’t cry over him. Not
until I’m safe and behind closed doors. An intrusive thought floats to the
forefront of my consciousness like a turd. If Connor and Lyra change their
minds, they know exactly where to find me.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I pinch the bridge of my nose. “I need some
kind of witness protection.”
My car hits something solid.
I jerk forward, my head hitting the airbag, and inhale a mouthful of
dust.
Before I can choke or cough or gasp, Rough hands haul me out of my
seat and slam me against the side of the car. Pain explodes across my back.
I drop my head forward and groan.
 Not a-fucking gain.
Somewhere through the haze of agony, a deep voice snarls, “That’s
Brianna Murphy. Let her go!”
The hands release me in an instant, making me stumble into a pair of
strong arms.
“Are you alright?” asks the same voice, except it’s as soft as a breeze.
“I-I-I think so.” Words tumble from my lips. “But I can’t see.”
“Let me take a look.” His large, warm hand cups the side of my face.
Blinking over and over, I try to see through the dust. The man holding
me yells at someone to fetch a first aid kit, and moments later, he brushes a
wet wipe over my eyes.
The cool moisture is a balm on my skin, and the tightness in my chest
loosens under his gentle touch. I release my tension in an outward breath.
“Is that better?” He dabs the wipe over my temples.
I open my eyes, my gaze focusing on blue irises the exact shade of
Connor’s.
It’s his dad, Mr. Dearg.
Behind him stands a quartet of men in suits. I can only guess from their
sheer bulk that they’re bodyguards… or cage fighters.
My heart skips a beat. I’m not sure if it’s because the man standing
before me is so handsome or because he’s surrounded by thugs. But how on
earth could Lyra cheat on such perfection?
He gazes down at me, his brow furrowed with what looks like genuine
concern when he really should be worried about his own plight.
Shit.
What the fuck am I going to do? If I tell him Connor is sleeping with his
wife and planning his demise—
Fuck Connor.
I don’t owe that cheating asshole. Nor do I owe that murderous bitch.
Crashing into Mr. Dearg is an opportunity that might well save my life.
 Or is it?
I barely know the man, but he’s always been warm and kind during
family dinners. I know he’s powerful. Anyone who launders money for the
Irish Mob has to have more resources to protect me than Connor… I think?
“Brianna,” he asks again. “Are you alright?”
“I…” Fuck. There’s no way I can afford to phrase this wrong. “I just
found Connor in bed with your wife.”
His features harden, losing every trace of tenderness. “Explain.”
A cold shiver runs down my spine, and I clench my teeth. My words
tumble over each other as I tell him how Connor buzzed me in through the
door and tried to gaslight me into believing he was cheating on me for my
own good.
I don’t even get to the part about the gun before Mr. Dearg snaps,
“Liam.”
One of the bodyguards steps forward, a huge bruiser with a nose that’s
broken in at least three places.
Mr. Dearg’s eyes remain fixed on mine when he says, “Take a look at
the security feed. Where are my wife and son?”
Silence descends across the darkened driveway, only broken by the
pounding of my heart. As the large man moves out of my periphery, I force
deep breaths in and out of my nostrils.
Please let the cameras pick up Connor and Lyra’s betrayal. It’s the only
way I might get his dad on my side.
“Cameras are down,” the other man mutters.
“Check the backup system,” Mr. Dearg snarls.
The next few minutes are gut-wrenching, and I send a silent plea for
Liam to hurry. I want to dip my head, to look away, but I’m caught in Mr.
Dearg’s gaze. Headlights illuminate his wavy brown hair, turning their ends
an alluring shade of copper.
 Shit. I should be forming my escape plan, not fawning over his
elegance.
“Take a look at this, boss.” The large man walks back into view, holding
a smartphone.
Mr. Dearg’s eyes finally leave mine.
It’s too early to collapse with relief.
I hold my breath as he glares into Liam’s screen, his lips forming a tight
line. Is the backup system capturing their infidelity? It’s only when he
releases his grip around my back that I finally exhale.
Mr. Dearg turns to the men on his left and right. “Patrick, Liam, you’re
with me.”
I grab his arm. “Don’t go there. Connor and Lyra are already plotting
against you, and she has a gun.”
He glares down at me, his eyes blazing.
My voice trembles as I repeat Connor’s plan to usurp his father, but
before I get to the part about the birthday party, my mouth clamps shut.
Self-preservation kicks me in the gut, telling me to listen to my survival
instincts.
Mr. Dearg’s blood is running hot right now. If I tell him everything,
he’ll forget about the threat on my life. He’ll rush off to deal with Lyra,
leaving me exposed to Connor’s revenge.
A wall of huge men surrounds me where I’m quaking, their features
etched with fury. Even Mr. Dearg’s features harden.
“There’s more,” I rasp, “But before I give you any more details, you
need to give me protection.”
Liam, the huge bruiser from before, rushes toward me, but Mr. Dearg
raises a hand. He glares at me, his nostrils flaring. “You have ten seconds to
make your case.”
“Lyra wanted to kill me and dispose of my body,” I blurt. “The only
reason she didn’t was because Connor said I’d keep their secret. They know
where I work and know where I live. Now that I’ve told you nearly
everything—”
“There’s an out-of-town safe house,” he says, sounding more like the
man who wiped my eyes. “When I take you there, you’ll tell me the rest.”
Liam clears his throat. “Sir, don’t forget tonight’s dinner with the
Dagda.”
A knot forms in my stomach. Declan Dagda is a legend. The old man
single-handedly executed all the major players in the Irish mob to become
its leader. I don’t know the ins and outs of the organization, but Mr. Dearg
must be really high up if he’s dining with someone so powerful.
“Fine,” Mr. Dearg growls as though dinner with Declan Dagda is a
chore. “Call the restaurant and tell them I’m bringing a guest.”

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 Chapter Three

B efore I can process Mr. Dearg’s words, he wraps an arm around my

waist and steers me toward his limousine. The driver opens the back seat,
revealing the kind of cream interior I’ve only seen on Instagram.
Realization delivers me a flying kick to the gut, flaring up my fight or
flight. “I’m going to see the Dagda?”
I turn just in time to see him nod.
Shit.
“What about my car?” I hook a thumb over my shoulder. “Don’t we
need to swap insurance details?”
“Let my boys take care of the wreckage.” He ushers me into the
vehicle’s back seat. “You’ve just become an important witness in a mafia
conspiracy.”
Dread pulls my heart into my stomach, making me suppress a moan. I
thought I was in trouble before—this is far worse.
“And then you’ll take me to the safe house?” I ask.
“Don’t worry.” He lowers himself into the seat beside me, sitting so
close that our thighs brush together. “It’s in everybody’s best interest to
keep you alive.”
I bite down on my bottom lip, force myself to stay calm, and focus on
the part where he wants to save my hide.
 Mr. Dearg pulls out his phone and demands to speak to the manager of a
place called Mirabilis Mansions. The limo reverses down the driveway, and
I slide down the seat, tuning out the rest of his conversation, my mind still
whirring at Connor’s out-of-character behavior.
Or did I just ignore the red flags?
Connor has a temper, but he always worked out his anger at the fight
club, never on me. He has access to gorgeous women, yet his eyes never
strayed. Until now, he was always devoted to me.
I rub my temples.
What if what he said about Lyra was true? That they only had sex to
seal the deal? It doesn’t matter. Cheating is still cheating, and I wouldn’t
take him back after those sinister threats. If I hadn’t agreed to keep quiet
about the plan to assassinate his father, he would stand back and let Lyra
murder me with that gun.
As the limo navigates the roads, I turn my attention to the tinted
windows above a mahogany bar laden with crystal glasses. There’s even a
metallic coffee machine. This looks more like a lounge than a mode of
transport.
My gaze wanders to Connor’s father. He wears a three-piece indigo-
blue suit, but nothing about the way he’s dressed says he works at an office.
He’s far too edgy. Maybe it’s the way the fabric molds around his muscular
physique or the fact that he’s not wearing a tie.
The top three buttons of his shirt lie undone, revealing a muscular neck
and a thick line of ink just below his collarbones. Is that the beginning of a
Celtic tattoo?
Fuck. He’s so unbearably handsome. Sometimes, looking at him is like
staring into the sun. Everything about him is mesmerizing, untouchable, and
could burn a girl like me to crisp. He’s the type of man women avoid for
fear of losing their minds.
Not that I ever considered starting anything with Connor’s dad.
 “See something you like?” Mr. Dearg’s deep voice breaks me out of my
musings.
I flinch, my cheeks flaring with heat, and every nerve ending on my
skin crackling with sparks. Is he flirting? Why on earth am I ogling him like
he’s my last supper? Snatching my gaze away, I fumble through my pockets
for my phone.
He chuckles, sounding unusually chipper for a man whose wife and son
want him dead.
Before I know it, we’re parked outside Sans Égal. It’s the most
exclusive boutique in our suburb and is rumored to get the latest fashions
before they arrive in London. I wouldn’t know when I’m earning the salary
of a healthcare assistant and everything I earn from the fight club goes
straight to paying off our debts.
My throat dries. This can’t be right. No right-minded mobster takes a
girl shopping after she crashes into his limo.
“Mr. Dearg—”
“Bard.”
“What are we doing here?” I rasp as Liam, the huge bodyguard from
before, opens the door.
“The restaurant has a dress code, and it isn’t hospital scrubs.”
My brows pinch together. “But I can’t afford to shop at a place like
this.”
“I have money,” he drawls.
Plucking up the courage, I meet Bard’s eyes. They’re not the same
shade of sky blue as Connor’s as I’d thought but are infused with tiny flecks
of gold that radiate warmth. Warmth that melts away another layer of
tension.
I still can’t understand why Connor would want to assassinate his dad.
Mine is a constant source of angst who disappears for months at a time,
leaving us to face the consequences of his actions.
 Connor’s stupid plan reminds me of how he and my dad have several
traits in common. While both can be charming, outgoing, and fun, they’re
also impatient and always searching for a shortcut or hack to success.
Bard steps out of the limo and offers me his hand. “Well?”
My jaw tightens. I have no qualms about dropping Connor in the shit,
even with someone as powerful as the Dagda. “Let’s go.”
Our fingers brush as I let him help me out, and my skin lights up with
sparks of sensation. I gulp. This has never happened before—not even with
Connor.
We step inside the Sans Égal boutique, a room of exposed brick walls,
zebra-print sofas, and mannequins in evening gowns. Before I can ask
where they keep the clothes, a six-foot-tall blonde steps out from a door at
the back, clad in a black velvet catsuit that makes my hospital scrubs look
like rags.
“Imogen, take care of Brianna.” He places a hand on the small of my
back, ushering me toward the other woman. “We have dinner reservations
in fifty minutes.”
“Of course, sir.”
Imogen leads me into a cream-colored room with a dressing table and
mirrors at one end and rails and shelves on the wall laden with clothes and
accessories.
As soon as the door closes, she whirls on me, her eyes flashing. “He’s
expecting me to work miracles.” She waves her hands up and down my
uniform, her fingers flinching with disdain. “What are you? A nurse?”
Cringing, I drop my gaze to the wooden floor and try not to squirm. Of
all the things Imogen could have attacked, she had to hone in on my broken
dream. All I’ve ever wanted was to work in medicine, but thanks to our
mountains of high-interest debt, I can’t afford to take a nursing degree.
“Healthcare support worker,” I mumble, my shoulders rising to my ears.
“We change the bedpans, do the bed baths, take blood pressure…”
 My voice trails off, and I give myself a mental slap. This isn’t the
hospital, where I’m at the bottom of the hierarchy. It’s not my fault that I
haven’t yet had the chance to finish my qualifications. I force myself to
meet her gaze.
Imogen rolls her eyes. “How am I supposed to make you presentable in
less than an hour? You’re going to need a full change of underwear, clothes,
shoes, accessories, hair, makeup, and a mani-pedi. And fix your posture.”
I gulp. She isn’t wrong.
“It isn’t exactly a date.” I wave a hand in the direction of the rails. “Just
put me in a dress and a pair of pumps.”
Imogen laughs, the sound bitter. “Men like Riobard Dearg don’t just
bring girls here for nothing. If you’re going to be on his arm, I’ll have to
transform you from a frump to something half fuckable.”
Her words hit like a slap. I want to snap back with a retort, tell her to get
fucked, and walk out with my head high, but my mind conjures up the
memory of Lyra advancing on me with her gun.
Shit. I need Bard’s help if I’m going to live through the rest of the week.
Besides, if I can survive Lyra then I won’t be cowed by a mean girl.
I clap my hands, making her flinch. “Are you going to get me ready or
waste all evening whining?”
Imogen purses her lips and sweeps her gaze up and down my form. I
pull back my shoulders and try not to shrink.
“Go on, then.” She points at a door between the rails. “Get undressed,
and I’ll see what I can do.”

Half an hour later, I’m cringing in front of a mirror, feeling naked in a flesh-
colored dress with a neckline that shows too much side boob. The fabric
clings to my every curve, and each time I move, light glimmers on the
sequins.
I barely recognize myself. Imogen has dressed me for the red carpet, not
for a fancy restaurant. The dress costs a year’s salary, and I’m sure the
shoes are equally as pricey since they’re studded with crystals and pearls.
“This makes me look nude.” I run my fingers along the baubles that
make up the plunging neckline.
Imogen slaps my hand. “Do you know those sequins were hand-sewn
by Alexander Galliano himself?”
Frowning, I turn around and grimace at the feathers lining the hem.
“Don’t you have something longer?”
“You look perfect.” Imogen turns me back to the mirror and applies a
coat of pink lip gloss. “With you in that dress and those fuck-me pumps,
he’s going to cum in his pants.”
The visual has my cheeks flaming and heat gathering low in my belly. I
shake it off, only for the sensation to spread across my chest. Even if I were
attracted to Bard, there’s no way he would give me a second glance.
Thank goodness I’m wearing makeup.
After spritzing my face with fixing spray, she walks me out to the shop.
“Finished with fifteen minutes to spare,” she says.
Bard glances up from his phone, his features falling slack.
I shuffle on my feet, wondering if he’ll complain that I’m overdone. His
gaze meanders down my body with an intensity that makes my skin tingle.
When he finally reaches my face, his eyes are blazing.
Sweat breaks out across my palms. Connor never regarded me so
thoroughly, not even when I was naked. Bard looks at me like I’m
something he wants to devour.
“Isn’t the dress too short?” I squeak.
When the corner of his mouth lifts into a half-smile, my gaze darts to
Imogen, who rocks forward on the balls of her feet with an I-told-you-so
smirk.
Bard crosses the room and places both hands on my shoulder,
detonating my nerves with sparks of pleasure. He gently turns me to the
full-length mirror and positions himself at my back.
“This dress is far too short,” he murmurs into my ear, his breath
warming my skin. “And the way you look in it would cause a riot.”
I’m about to suggest something less revealing when he wraps an arm
around my waist and pulls me into his larger body. My heart flutters, and
my breath turns shallow. Something hard presses into my back, but it’s far
too metallic and high up on his body to be an erection.
“But don’t worry about other men clamoring for a taste of you. I have a
gun.”

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 Chapter Four

I spend the short journey to the restaurant ruminating through Bard’s

offer to protect me with his gun, not knowing if he was flirting, joking, or
poking fun.
The way he looked at me in the boutique wasn’t protective, neither was
the way he stood behind me in the mirror. For that brief moment, I felt
desired, but that could have been my imagination.
When Bard helps me out of the limousine, the touch of his hand makes
my skin tingle. I gaze up at him through my lashes, but all the warmth has
gone, leaving behind a stoic mask. It’s as though he’s preparing for battle.
My muscles stiffen, and I draw my elbows into my sides, my senses on
alert.
Three bodyguards surround us from behind, while Liam takes the lead.
My fingers tremble at the prospect of speaking to Bard’s boss. I curl them
into fists and walk closer to Bard.
Even from the outside, Le Cellier looks to be a vast restaurant with
white walls and gray marble floors. Oversized glass pendants hang down
from a vaulted ceiling, creating ambient light. It’s the kind of place where
girls like me would work, not dine.
We walk to the establishment’s double doors, and the breeze brushes
over my bare arms and legs, making me feel vulnerable and exposed. The
women inside wear cocktail dresses like expensive armor, yet my outfit is
little more than a second skin.
Bard places a hand on the small of my back, the heat of his fingers
seeping through my dress’s thin fabric. Is his touch protective or
possessive? It’s hard to tell when I can’t read his expression. Even harder to
tell when his touch sends a surge of heat between my legs.
Squeezing my thighs together, I suppress a moan, forgetting all thoughts
of being inappropriately dressed. I shouldn’t be getting excited. Not at the
prospect of dinner.
A receptionist opens the door, recognizing Bard in an instant, and walks
us around the edge of the vast space.
The clink and chatter dies down to barely a hum, and everyone sitting at
the tables turns to stare, making my skin twitch. This restaurant is likely
connected to the mob. They’re probably wondering what Bard is doing here
with another woman.
“Do you see all those people?” he murmurs into my ear.
I gulp. “Friends of yours? They’re all looking.”
The corner of his mouth lifts. “Every eye in this restaurant is on you.
You’re breathtaking, and my son is a bloody idiot.”
Bard gazes at me with an intensity that makes my knees tremble. I can
barely muster up the courage to ask what he means. When his gaze drops to
my lips, I say anything to change the subject.
“Your wife moves like she’s had some combat training. Is she also
connected?”
“Lyra was born into the Greek mafia,” he murmurs, his breath sending
tingles across my skin. “Our marriage was arranged as part of a peace
treaty.”
Oh.
“What about Connor’s mother?” I ask.
 “A long-forgotten one-night stand from when I was fifteen.” His voice
lowers with regret. “I never knew of my son’s existence until seven years
ago, when he turned eighteen and tracked me down.”
I reach the bottom of the stairs, my brows pinching. Connor never once
hinted that he hated his father, but what do I know? He also never hinted
that he wanted to fuck his stepmother.
Bard opens a heavy wooden door, revealing a private dining room,
where six suited men look up from a round table. From their similar
features to Bard’s, I can already tell they’re members of his family, and
from their scowls, it looks like this gathering is for insiders only.
“What the fuck, Bard?” asks a giant with a beard and an eye patch. “Are
we bringing bitches to family meetings, now?”
I shrink into Bard’s side, trying not to cringe, but he gives my waist a
reassuring squeeze.
“Gentlemen, may I present Miss Brianna Murphy,” Bard says, ignoring
the first guy’s outburst. “She just caught Lyra and my son plotting my
assassination.”
Every gaze narrows in on me, making my heart skip.
I’m more of a behind-the-scenes person, both at work, in the fight club,
and even in relationships. My nerves can’t handle this level of attention, and
my pulse throbs under the scrutiny of such powerful men. Bard’s presence
is the only thing keeping me from shriveling.
“It’s true,” I say. “Connor and Lyra want to take over Bard’s business.”
With a snort, the one-eyed man leans back in his seat. “Send her back as
a spy,” he says. “Better still, use her as bait.”
“Brianna is under my protection,” Bard says through clenched teeth.
“As is the rest of her family.”
What? I force my features into a blank mask.
The other man rises from his seat, his muscles bulging beneath his navy
blue suit. “No little chit has ever sat at the Dagda’s table—”
 “Keep talking like that about Miss Murphy, and you’ll lose your last
remaining eye,” Bard snarls, his voice low.
“Lugh, sit down,” says a sharp voice that makes the man drop down into
his seat. It belongs to a man in his late sixties with salt-and-pepper hair and
Bard’s rugged features.
A breath catches in my throat. Is this Declan Dagda? Who else could
subdue that giant with a few words?
“Miss Murphy,” the older man says. “Take a seat and tell us why you
think Lyra wants to kill my son.”
Wait—Connor never told me they were so closely related.
A man in a burgundy suit with similar features to Bard scoots down the
table to free up two adjacent places. Bard pulls out my chair like a
gentleman. I slip into my seat and hold back a burst of panic.
My throat dries, my skin breaks out in a sweat, and my hands tremble so
much that Bard holds them beneath the table.
“Take your time,” he murmurs.
Both his words and touch melts away a layer of anxiety, and I tune out
the stares of the other men. With a deep breath, I answer. My words tumble
over each other as I tell them exactly what Connor revealed during his
rambling explanation.
Throughout my story, the Dagda peppers me with questions, as does the
man in burgundy sitting on my left, who I learn is called Angus.
I don’t remember the rest of the names. Bard’s fingers interlacing with
mine are far too distracting. His thumb brushes over my knuckles with
rhythmic strokes that I feel between my legs. It takes every ounce of effort
to focus on the conversation.
“That’s what you get for taking in that bastard spawn,” Lugh snarls.
Some of the other men sitting around the table nod, but nobody
comments. I gulp, wondering if they’re right. My dad is the most
irresponsible parent ever and an even worse husband. Mum and I are
always clearing up his messes, but we would never want him dead.
“How can we be sure you don’t reveal anything you’ve learned today to
your boyfriend?” asks the Dagda.
“Connor is my ex,” I say. “If he knows I’ve spoken to you, I’m dead.”
Bard squeezes my hand. “I’ve already reserved Brianna a suite in
Mirabilis Mansions. She’ll stay there until I’ve dealt with this threat.”
Lugh lets out a bellowing laugh and slaps his palm on the table. “You’re
stealing your son’s girlfriend?”
Heat flares across my cheeks, and I squirm in my seat. Is that giant
reading my thoughts?
“Get your mind out of the gutter,” Bard says. “We all know it’s the most
secure safe house within a fifty-mile radius.”
Some of the others smirk, and the Dagda’s gaze turns assessing, even
appreciative. I wonder if that’s because he’s thinking the same as Lugh.
With a nod, he summons a waiter, who brings a tray of drinks.
The other men turn back to their conversations, and I lean into Bard’s
side and whisper, “What’s Mirabilis Mansions?”
He releases my hand to take two glasses from the waiter, leaving my
skin yearning for his touch.
“It’s an apartment complex where some of these bastards keep their
mistresses away from murderous wives. Only a select few may gain entry.
You’ll be perfectly safe from Lyra.”
Unfolding the napkin with trembling fingers, I force my features into a
smile. I’m not naive, but I’m also not going to presume that a rich,
handsome, older man wants me as his mistress. Not when he can get more
glamorous women who aren’t associated with his son.
A red-haired waitress approaches the table with the first course of what
looks to be a set menu. It’s a cheese soufflé that melts in my mouth, served
with a crisp chardonnay. I can’t even fully appreciate the flavors because
I’m stuffed full of paranoia.
Bard watches me eat, his blue eyes twinkling. “Feeling better?”
I bring the wineglass to my lips. “This food almost makes up for nearly
getting shot.”
His deep laughter settles my nerves, and the men around the table
resume their conversations and relax. It’s an exaggeration. Lyra only
brandished the gun, I’d already reached the stairs by the time I heard the
gunshot. But making him smile fills my heart with warmth.
The red-haired waitress returns with the next course. It’s salmon with
julienned vegetables with a bright orange mash. I’m too busy glaring at the
woman to appreciate the food.
She hovers over Bard’s shoulder, casting him a coy smile. “Can I get
you anything else, sir?”
My eyes narrow. Is she flirting with Bard because she overheard the
conversation and knows he’s about to become single?
“That will be all, thank you.” Bard waves her away.
The waitress hangs around as though waiting for another verbal
dismissal. My lips tighten, and it takes every effort not to grind my teeth.
What is it with these artificial redheads, pushing themselves onto other
people’s men? First Lyra, now her.
I shift on my seat, my thigh brushing against his.
Bard stiffens, and my stomach lurches with an eruption of butterflies.
My heart pounds hard enough to rattle my sequins. I hadn’t meant to touch
his thigh.
“Mr. Dearg,” the waitress says, her voice insistent. “Are you sure there’s
nothing I can—”
“Leave,” Bard snarls.
Her posture deflates, and she draws back, but not before casting me a
glower. When Angus calls her over, her features brighten.
 Bard takes my hand again and intertwines our fingers. “Don’t worry
about her,” he murmurs, his warm breath fanning my ear and the depth of
his voice settling making my skin sizzle. “I promised to take care of you.
Tonight, I’m yours.”
I choke on air.
What?
Tonight, I’m yours.
The words echo through my skull.
Heat rises to my cheeks, but it’s nothing compared to what’s happening
between my legs. My mind is making double entendres where they don’t
exist, and I’m in danger of throwing myself at Bard or something equally as
inappropriate.
As if on autopilot, I rise from my seat and place my napkin on the table.
The conversation pauses, and the men’s stares make my nerves sizzle.
Bard gazes up at me with a frown. “Brianna, are you alright?”
“Bathroom,” I mumble.
Mustering up every ounce of confidence from the ether, I walk on
trembling legs across the private dining room.
Tonight, I’m yours.
That could mean anything from my attention is yours to… I shake off
that thought and dismiss it as wishful thinking. Bard wasn’t flirting. He’s
Connor’s father, for fuck’s sake. And the man couldn’t be interested in
women. He just discovered his wife is a cheating bitch who’s plotting his
death.
By the time I enter the bathroom, my pulse pounds so hard that every
nerve ending vibrates. I have never in my twenty-one years of life felt so
alive… or so visible.
With the chandeliers spreading beams of light in all directions, I barely
recognize the glamorous woman reflected in the bathroom mirror. My
cheeks are flushed, and my lips are redder than they were earlier. The eye
makeup Imogen applied has brought out the silver in my irises. Hell, I
almost look like an Instagram model.
I run the cold tap, soak my fingers in the water, and splash droplets onto
my skin. But I’m still too hot.
How am I still standing and not self-combusting? I’ve just had dinner
with the innermost circle of the Irish Mob. According to that huge guy,
Lugh, I’m the only woman who has ever sat on that table. Why am I not a
pile of ash?
The answer is simple.
Bard.
He told Lugh to stand down and announced to the others that I was
under his protection. He could have handed me over to one of his
bodyguards to deposit me into Mirabilis Mansions, but he brought me to
meet his family. He wanted me at his side.
Is this his way of shielding me from whatever’s going to happen to
Connor?
Bard will probably have him sent away. I can’t imagine someone as nice
as him ordering a hit on his own child, even if their relationship has only
lasted seven years.
I place cool fingers over my temple and fill my lungs with air. There’s
no reason to be afraid any more—I have Bard.
Tonight, I’m yours.
Now, the words are a balm on my frazzled nerves, and I release my
tension with an outward breath. Thank goodness I crashed into Bard’s
limousine tonight. Thank goodness I decided to tell him everything. Thank
goodness I won’t have to face Connor.
Thank goodness for Bard.
Without him, I’d be a wreck.
I walk to the exit, pull open the door, and bump into a wall of muscle.
 Staggering back, I’m about to fall on my ass when a strong arm wraps
around my waist.
It’s Bard.
He stares down at me with an intensity in his blue eyes that makes my
heart lurch. I can’t tell if he wants to devour me or destroy me.
My mind burns through a dozen explanations, ranging from the Dagda
telling him to dispose of me to Bard getting swayed by that waitress.
There’s nothing gentle or fatherly in the set of his jaw or the heaving of his
chest.
Oh shit. Don’t tell me he’s already changed his mind about helping?
The thud of my heart is so deafening, I raise a hand to my chest to muffle
the sound.
His gaze drops to my lips the way it did when we entered the restaurant.
The heat in his eyes reminds me of the way he touched me in the boutique.
My pulse quickens until it fills my ears with a dull roar.
“Bard,” I rasp, trying to stop my voice from wavering. “Is something
wrong—”
His mouth descends on mine before I can finish.
The first touch of his lips is like striking a match that sets my libido
aflame. He wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me into his hard body.
My eyes flutter shut, and my back arches.
Bard’s lips are firm, demanding, and all-consuming. My nostrils fill
with the mingled scents of sandalwood and whiskey, and I melt into the
kiss.
I part my lips, and his tongue sweeps into my mouth, tasting, exploring,
claiming. It’s like there’s a hunger in him that only I can satisfy, and there’s
a part of me that wants to be consumed.
We stand so close that every hard contour of his body is pressed against
mine, including a long, thick erection that I want to palm. Fuck, I can
imagine running my tongue down a veiny shaft before circling its bulbous
tip. I want to wrap my lips around that cock and make him moan.
This is cheating, a little voice whispers somewhere on the edge of my
consciousness. It’s drowned out by the pulse echoing between my ears and
the moisture between my legs.
My blood roars, its temperature rising to a fever pitch. Each beat of my
heart sends reverberations straight to my clit. Even the air crackles with
sparks that detonate across my skin.
Bard is igniting a furnace in my core that could burn me to cinders. I
need to stop now before I lose my head. Now, before I lose control.
Tonight, I’m yours.
The words take on a different meaning—a one-night stand that will
leave me with a chasm of loneliness and regret. Common sense slaps me
upside the head. I can’t get involved with my ex-boyfriend’s father.
Placing both hands on his pecs, I draw away, but it does nothing to
extinguish the fire. Bard looms over me, his larger body forming a cage
between my body and the door. His heart beats faster against my palm as
though breaking this kiss hurts.
“What are you doing?” I ask, my voice breathy.
“I couldn’t help myself. I had to kiss you.”
“Why?”
“I saw how you were looking at me earlier, and then how you were with
that waitress and thought—”
My breath stills as I wait for him to complete the sentence.
“Bard?”
Bard blinks, seeming to return to his senses. “I thought maybe you felt
the same way.”
It takes a second for his words to sink in, but they still don’t register. I
run my tongue along my bottom lip, and Bard’s eyes track the movement
before returning to meet my gaze.
 Standing in his presence is like flying too close to the sun, and I’m
afraid of getting burned. Lowering my lashes, I dip my head, loosening a
lock of hair. “B-Bard. I don’t understand.”
“I want to take care of you.” He smooths the strand off my face and
tucks it behind my ear. “I want to tend to your needs.”
My pussy clenches at that last word and the furnace in my core screams
that I should say yes, damn the consequences, and lose myself in a night of
pleasure.
Why can’t I be reckless? Why can’t I be the one who takes what they
want and doesn’t think of tomorrow? If Bard makes love the way he kisses,
he could make me forget about Lyra and Connor’s betrayal.
But in the morning, he’ll be gone, and I’ll be alone.
I need to protect my heart.
My life has been saddled with disappointment. My adrenaline still runs
high and I can’t trust myself to think straight. The last thing I need
tomorrow morning is yet another rejection.
“Bard,” I murmur. “I don’t do one-night stands.”
“Look at me,” he growls.
My gaze snaps up to meet his.
“I’m not looking for anything temporary, either. What I want is you.”
His sincerity sears into my soul. He means every word… But that’s the
problem. Connor, Dad, and every other man in my life knows what to say
whether they want friendship or a fuck or forgiveness. They’re all so
generous with words and affection but never generous where it really
counts.
“Why me?” I ask. “Are you using me to get revenge?”
“Never,” he rasps. “My marriage with Lyra is all business. I never loved
her but I wanted you the first moment I saw you.”
Shallow breaths caress the tops of my lungs, and I sway on my feet.
That can’t be true. He’s never once flirted or even acted like he was
interested.
“Are you talking about the time Connor brought me to your place for
dinner?” I ask.
“In the hospital, that time my son got slashed across the face with a
bottle,” Bard says, his smile bitter.
My jaw drops, and I slump back against the wall. Sure, I met Connor at
work. He was belligerent, drunk, and needed a bed bath. That day was so
memorable that I can picture everything that happened. Security had to
clear out his entourage of fighters, and some idiot ran off with a trolley full
of meds. But I would have remembered seeing someone as powerful and
handsome as Bard.
As though reading my mind, Bard continues. “I saw you on the other
side of the ward, tending to another patient. You were a refreshing change
from the types I meet in my line of work, and I planned on asking you for a
date.”
Heat rises to my cheeks, spreads down my neck, and across my chest. I
even feel the blush on my nipples. Bard had been single back then. It was
before he’d married Lyra.
“You noticed me?” I whisper.
“You were all I could think about for days.” He shakes his head, his
smile wistful. “I should have made my move earlier. By the time I told
Connor I was going to ask you for a date, he mentioned that you’d already
kissed.”
My jaw drops. “That didn’t happen.”
Bard squeezes his eyes shut, his lips tightening into a thin line. “Then he
must have been determined to have you.”
I can read between the lines. Bard is too polite to say that Connor only
pursued me because his father had expressed an interest. It’s also the reason
why Connor slept with Lyra—because of her connection with Bard.
Connor’s hatred of Bard runs deeper than I could ever imagine.
 He sighs. “I suspected he was bullshitting but after not being there for
his first eighteen years, I couldn’t deny him the love of a good woman.”
“But weren’t you engaged to Lyra?”
He cups my cheek. “Our family was in marriage talks, but nothing was
concrete. You’re the only woman who could tempt me into jeopardizing our
alliance with the Greeks.”
Every butterfly in my stomach flutters around my heart, bringing with
them ripples of tension. I wish Bard hadn’t taken Connor so seriously. Men
propose to hospital staff all the time when they’re hopped up on drugs.
Sometimes they think we’re interested in them when we’re just being
professional.
Shit. It’s happening again. Sweet words that coax the part of me that
yearns for love. Sweet words that make me feel special, wanted, unique.
Sweet words that drown out the red flags.
I can’t jump from Connor to his father and end up with the same type of
man.
“What if I say no to a relationship?” I ask.
Pain flashes in Bard’s eyes, but he smooths his features into a stoic
mask. “I stand by everything I said.” His words are gruff. “You still have
my protection.”
I try to exhale my relief, but it does nothing to loosen the tension
building in my chest. Dread pushes down on my lungs, accompanied by a
sense of loss. Connor persuaded me for weeks until I gave him a chance. I
can’t understand why Bard would give up so easily unless he truly thought I
was just a fling.
What the hell? I give myself a mental slap. Why am I disappointed that
a man is keeping his word and not pushing for more than I’m prepared to
give?
“Come on,” he says, his voice filled with warmth. “Today had to be
exhausting. Let me take you somewhere safe.”
OceanofPDF.com
 Chapter Five

T he walk to the limo is silent, partially because everyone was

watching us at the restaurant but mostly because my mind is twisting into
complicated knots.
I just rejected a handsome, rich protector, and I think I made a mistake.
The vehicle waiting for us outside is different from the first, but the
huge men standing around the car are the same. Bard helps me into the
cream leather interior and takes the seat next to mine.
“Where are your family?” he asks, his voice pulling me out of my
ruminations.
“Pardon?”
He reaches into his inside pocket and pulls out a phone. “I can’t take
you to a safe house and leave your loved ones exposed. Lesson one of
hiding a witness.”
Because if Connor and Lyra change their mind and try to get to me at
home, they could easily hold Mum hostage.
“Right.” I exhale a nervous laugh. “My mum’s gone to Australia for
work. She’s an air hostess.”
“And your father?”
I shake my head. “He’s out of town.”
 The limo pulls out, and Bard slips his phone back into his pocket. I hold
my breath, hoping he doesn’t ask for Dad’s whereabouts because I have
absolutely no idea.
Dad is a gambler, a grifter, and a gentleman thief. He goes from place to
place enjoying a glamorous life until he returns to us when his luck runs
bad. I try not to shudder at the trouble Dad will bring the next time he
comes home.
“If Connor didn’t ask you out at the hospital, then how did a nice girl
like you get entangled with my son?” he asks.
I huff a laugh. “He made me an offer I couldn’t refuse.”
Bard gazes at me, his eyes dancing. “You don’t strike me as someone
who could be easily swayed.”
“I got to know him better after he gave me a job at his fight club.” I
raise a shoulder.
Bard’s gaze sweeps up and down my form. “You worked for him as a
medic?”
A laugh bubbles up to my chest. The way he asks suggests that I might
be one of his underground fighters. I can’t throw shade, let alone a punch.
“I have first aid certifications and have read all the nursing textbooks.”
“Why would you accept such a role when you could be climbing the
ranks at the hospital?” he asks, his brows tightening into a frown.
Bands of bitterness wrap around my chest and circle my throat like a
garrote. The backs of my eyes grow hot with a festering resentment that
mounts each time I think about my career. Because of Dad, I had to put my
life on hold.
Dipping my head, I inhale a deep breath and repress the rancor.
“Getting a degree in nursing means adding student loans to our debts,” I
reply, my words halting. “My mum and I were struggling, and Connor
offered to pay me enough to cover the interest payments. I’m trying to save
toward university. Then after that, a baby.”
 Bard doesn’t speak for several heartbeats, and I wither under his gaze. I
can’t tell if he’s judging me for patching up illegal fighters, for sticking
around to help Mum clean up Dad’s messes, or for not living up to my
potential. Probably all three.
“What kind of debts?” he asks.
“You name it,” I mutter. “My dad racked up payday loans, parking
fines, credit cards, and casino markers. Even when he uses a fake ID, they
usually track him down to us.”
Bard’s eyes harden.
My shoulders rise to my ears. He probably thinks I’m some sort of
sucker. I took on that second job at the fight club to save Mum from a side
gig of trafficking drugs.
Bard’s gaze penetrates mine, demanding answers. I can already imagine
the questions. Why am I so loyal when those around me are so fickle? Why
would I make sacrifices for a father who can’t control his impulses?
I gulp, wondering how to explain that debt collectors don’t listen to
reason. The pressure of his gaze is so intense that I can’t help but form
words. “We tried to get him help, but some doctors don’t recognize
compulsive gambling as a condition—”
“What’s his name?” Bard growls.
“Jack Murphy, why?”
“We keep records of every client who interacts with our businesses.” He
pulls out his phone and taps into a series of screens. After a few seconds, he
brings up a photo of dad. “Is that him?”
A knot forms in my stomach. Out of habit, my lips prepare a denial, but
I clap a hand over my mouth. Bard said more than once he would protect
me. Me and my family.
I bite down on the inside of my cheek, trying to chew away my last
reservations. If I’m going to survive the week, I need to trust Bard.
“Y-yes,” I whisper. “That’s my dad.”
 “Did you know he owes our combined organizations over two hundred
thousand pounds?”
“Th-that much?” I rasp.
Either Mum had underestimated it by half or Dad has been busy these
past few months, racking up more debts.
Fuck. How many side gigs does a girl need to keep up with Dad’s
whirlwind of self-destruction?
I’m about to ask Bard about what will happen to Connor’s fight club,
when he adds, “From this moment, your father is barred from our betting
shops and casinos. I’ve sent out an order to confine him to one of our hotels
until this business with Connor and Lyra is over.”
“Thank you,” I say with a sigh.
“And I’ve sent a message to our credit controllers to write off his debts.
I’ll cover whatever he owes the other organizations.”
My mind goes blank for the few seconds it takes for his words to
register, and I flick my gaze from Bard’s eyes to his phone. He didn’t just
erase our burden with a few taps of those manicured fingers.
That’s impossible.
Men don’t fix problems. They say the right words, make promises they
can’t keep, or blindside you with shitstorms. They sure as hell don’t lift the
weight off your shoulders without demanding something in return.
“What did you just say?” I whisper.
Bard puts the phone to one side and looks me full in the face. His warm
blue eyes hold mine captive. Anticipation squeezes my chest, and I can
barely breathe.
“I told you, Brianna, you’re under my protection. Nobody can get to
you through your family—”
I lurch forward before he can complete his sentence and kiss him on the
lips. No man has ever backed up his promises with action, let alone cash. At
least not enough to make a difference. Without the debts, Mum and I can
finally be free.
Bard stiffens, his lips unmoving.
I draw back. “What’s wrong? Earlier, you wanted—”
“Did you think I cleared your father’s balance for sex?” he growls, his
nostrils flaring.
“No,” I blurt.
Bard’s features return to that impenetrable mask. “Then why did you
kiss me now and not earlier?”
My throat tightens, and my face grows hot. I rub the back of my neck.
“Because…”
Most men get offended at rejection, but not Bard. Bard backed away
when I said no, and didn’t even attempt to push for more. It never occurred
to me that he’d be annoyed if I changed my mind.
Why?
I’m so wrapped up in my own drama to realize his situation is just as
bad as mine. His wife isn’t just a cheat—she’s a gold digger conspiring with
his son to murder him and steal his business. It’s no wonder Bard is
skeptical. He probably thinks I’m also an opportunist.
“I didn’t kiss you because of the money,” I say. “You’re the whole
package.”
“Elaborate.”
I lean back in the leather seat and tug on one of my curls.
“Most gorgeous guys are either full of trouble or full of shit. With those
types, there’s always a catch. Like, maybe you’re a compulsive liar or were
being nice for ulterior motives.”
His eyes narrow. “And?”
“I was wrong. You’re genuine, with a good heart. You helped me when I
hit your car, and you brought me to the Dagda’s table so nobody would
mess with me to get back at Connor. You back up whatever you say with
actions. I’ve never met anyone so honorable.”
Bard’s mask remains in place for a few heartbeats before his eyes
soften.
“You think I’m gorgeous?” he asks, his voice full of warmth.
“Is that all you heard?”
He pulls me onto his lap. “I’ll take that kiss now.”
“You had your chance.” I place a hand on his chest, my pussy tightening
at the rapid thrum of his heart. “Now, the moment is gone—”
He silences me with a kiss.

OceanofPDF.com
 Chapter Six

B ard’s velvety lips caress mine with a tenderness that ignites the
flames of my desire. Everything about this kiss is unhurried, and he’s
savoring me as much as I’m savoring him. His large hand cups my cheek,
holding me in place as his fingers twine through my hair. This feels like the
main event and not something he needs to rush past to get sex.
I’ve never been with a man who enjoys kissing. Guys my age spend less
effort on locking lips and more on groping. They get rough and overheated,
wanting to tear off a girl’s knickers before they’ve even gotten her warmed
up.
Bard takes his time, as though committing my lips to memory. His arms
encircle my waist, and I melt against his prominent pecs and biceps. He’s so
bulky compared to Connor, who’s tall and wiry with the physique of a
lightweight boxer. Bard, on the other hand, has the build of a heavyweight.
His tongue traces my bottom lip, sending tingles across my skin. He
gives it a playful nip before pulling it between his teeth.
Warmth surges to my core. I squeeze my thighs together and swallow
back a whimper. Who would have thought a man could make kissing such a
sensual art form?
It’s hard to believe that he’s even related to Connor. The only thing they
have in common is their eyes.
 His tongue parts my lips and twines around mine with a slow caress that
makes my toes curl. All thoughts of Connor drift to the back of my mind as
I lose myself in the kiss. Bard tastes of martini and mint and smells of
masculinity and musk, but he feels like heaven.
He explores my mouth with his tongue, each delicious stroke making
my pussy tighten. My clit swells and wetness seeps between my folds. Until
now, I never knew kissing could be so intoxicating. Bard’s mouth is a drug,
and I’m already addicted.
My palm slides over his silk shirt and down the contours of his chest,
making him groan. His heartbeat is stronger and faster than I ever expected
from a man who’s always so controlled.
I trace a finger over his chest and graze his right nipple. It pebbles, and
his cock swells against my hip. A low hiss escapes his lips and the sound
reverberates in my clit.
“Behave yourself,” he growls into the kiss, his fingers closing around
my wrist with a gentle grip.
“Don’t want to,” I murmur.
Leaving his nipple, I let my other hand wander down his abs, which
tighten against my fingertips. Fuck. Everywhere I touch this man is hard,
and I can’t wait to explore.
I wriggle closer, my ass brushing against his hardening erection. With a
groan, Bart grabs my hips and holds me still.
“Brianna,” he says, his voice so deep that I feel it between my legs.
“Keep moving like that and I won’t be able to control what happens next.”
“That’s the point.” I sink my teeth into his bottom lip and grind against
his cock.
It’s long and thick—far bigger than Connor’s. Bigger than the dildo I
used to finish myself off with whenever my ex failed to make me cum.
Bard’s breath quickens, his fingers digging into my hips. He pulls back
from the kiss and glares down at me, his eyes darkening.
 “You’re playing with fire,” he says, his tone full of menace. Heat
radiates from his body, the tension between us palpable.
My heart skips as the more cautious part of my psyche heeds his
warning, but what did being sensible ever do for me? I’m sick of being the
one Mum calls when debt collectors come to the door threatening violence,
and sick of cleaning up after Dad. Hell, I’m sick of covering up for
Connor’s illegal fight club with its broken bodies and broken lives.
I slide my hands on Bard’s shoulders and look him in the eye. “Just for
once, I want to dance in the flames and get burned.”
“What do you want, Brianna?” he asks, his voice rough.
“I want to feel something,” I whisper against his lips.
Bard hesitates, his features tightening, as though he’s fighting for
control. Maybe he’s starting to feel guilty because I was in a relationship
with his son.
“I want you,” I add.
His nostrils flare, and he drops his gaze to my lips. “You don’t know
what you’re starting.”
“But I know exactly what I want.” I slide my hand between our bodies
and reach for his cock, but he grabs my wrist again and eases me off his lap
and onto the limousine’s leather seat.
I’m no longer cocooned in the warmth of his body and instantly feel the
chill. My stomach plummets. I drop my gaze, trying not to flinch at the
sting of his rejection. This isn’t the first time someone from his family has
made me feel unwanted. I should be used to men blowing hot and cold, but
it still hurts.
Bard grips my chin and tilts up my head, so I’m forced to meet his eyes.
“You’re in the worst trouble of your life and have turned to me for
help,” he says through panting breaths. “I will not take advantage.”
Bard lets the sentence hang, but from the way his pupils are dilated and
his irises are a tiny ring around huge pools of black, I can guess what he’s
leaving unsaid. Bard finds me physically attractive, but that’s not enough.
My throat tightens.
Of course, it isn’t.
The man’s been single most of his life, save for an arranged marriage to
secure an alliance with the Greek mafia. I don’t get why he’s trying to back
out after everything he said, unless he’s indirectly warning me that I’m only
good for a one-night stand.
“Maybe I’m tired of being the nice girl,” I say from between clenched
teeth. “Maybe I’m tired of being a doormat. Maybe for once in my life, I
want to feel good and not care about the consequences.”
Bard glares down at me, his chest heaving with rapid breaths. He’s
holding back. I’m not naive enough to think that he’s always this gentle and
kind. There’s no room at the Dagda’s table for anyone who isn’t ruthless.
But I don’t just want his gentlemanly exterior. I want to play with his inner
demon.
I lick my lips, unable to withstand the intensity of his gaze.
His eyes track my tongue’s movement with a hunger that makes the fine
hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. A flock of butterflies takes flight
in my stomach, frantic to be freed. Bard’s presence expands until it takes up
the entire limo. I’m caught in the gaze of a predator, and I’m aching for him
to pounce.
“Are you sure about this, Brianna?” he rasps.
I part my thighs, letting my short dress ride up to my hips. “Why don’t
you feel for yourself.”

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 Chapter Seven

B ard gazes down at my exposed thighs, his lips parting. My heartbeat

kicks up a notch, and I try not to squirm.
I’ve never made the first move on a man before—not even during my
relationship with Connor. Men have never been a priority, not when my life
is one disaster after another.
When he doesn’t make a move, I steel my jaw and lean backward in my
seat. The dress shifts a little higher, exposing my lacy thong.
Bard sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth. “This is your final
warning.”
“I’m not scared,” I say, my skin tightening into goosebumps.
He can’t possibly be hiding a psychotic personality beneath that kind of
exterior. I know he’s either killed people or arranged their deaths. Murder is
a common part of the underground. But someone would have mentioned it
if he was a sadist, right?
An intrusive thought rises to the surface. He’s taking me to Mirabilis
Mansions—the place where gangsters hide their mistresses from the outside
world. What if it’s also where they hide their darker desires?
Bard places a hand on my thigh, his touch sending jolts of electricity
into my core. My breath catches, and it takes every ounce of self-control not
to flinch.
 “The worst mistake you can make is thinking that I’m going to take it
easy on you, Brianna. Do you understand?”
Shivers skitter down my spine. The muscles of my pussy clench. “Yes.”
“You will address me as sir,” he growls, his fingers closing in around
my flesh.
“Yes, sir,” I blurt.
The limo passes over a speed bump, making me aware of my
surroundings. We’re racing down a four-lane road dotted by streetlights,
somewhere far away from our suburb. Bard strokes gentle circles over my
inner thighs, sending little shocks of pleasure to my clit. His eyes darken,
never leaving mine, as though he’s studying my reactions.
“There’s something you need to know before we start,” he says.
I gulp.
“I don’t tolerate brats or belligerence.”
“Yes, sir,” I whisper.
“Will you be a good girl for me, or will I need to punish you as a brat?”
A rebellious part of me wants to see what he’ll do if I disobey, but we
haven’t even begun. The last thing I want is for Bard to back out of
whatever this is, saying we’re incompatible.
“I’m a good girl,” I say.
“Then you will follow my orders,” he says.
“Yes, sir.”
“Are you wet?”
“Soaked,” I whisper.
His eyes flare, and one corner of his lips twitches. He leans closer until
his lips ghost over my ear. Pleasant tingles travel down my spine and settle
between my legs, and my breath turns shallow as I wait for his next move.
“Push that thong to the side.”
At his command, heat flares across my cheeks, which spreads down my
neck and across my chest. My fingers twitch toward my underwear, but
they won’t move.
“Do it, Brianna,” he growls.
Fingers trembling, I reach beneath the wispy feathers that make up the
lower half of my dress and slide my knickers to the side. Wetness coats my
fingertips, and I bite back a moan. I knew I was aroused, but not dripping.
Bard’s gaze drops between my legs for a heartbeat, before he growls,
“Are you always this soaked?”
I shake my head. It usually takes a lot of coaxing before I’m wet enough
to fuck. Connor has to suck my nipples and rub my clit to get me in the
mood, but Bard gets the job done with kisses and well-chosen words.
“Give me those fingers,” he says.
My heart skips.
“Now.”
I reach out and show him the glistening digits, but he grabs my hand
and pulls it into his line of sight. I stiffen, the fine hairs on the back of my
neck standing on end. My soaked fingers are so close to his face that I’m
certain he can smell my pussy.
“Do you like getting wet for me?” he rasps.
“Yes,” I whisper.
“Say it.”
“I-I like getting wet.” I gulp. “For you.”
He brings my fingers to his mouth and slides his tongue over each pad,
licking up my fluids.
My lips part with a gasp as sensation travels south. The pulse behind my
clit pounds so hard that it reverberates down my thighs. I’m so frazzled that
I feel each languid lick on my clit, so aroused that the sensitive bundle of
nerves swells to the point of pain.
I need that tongue between my legs.
Now.
“Give me that thong,” he says.
 Without thinking about it, I raise my hips off the leather seat and slide
down my knickers. Thank fuck I spilled something over myself at work and
needed a shower, and thank Imogen from the boutique for providing this
pretty underwear.
I can barely look Bard in the eye as I hand over the thong, and when he
brings it to his nose and takes a long sniff, my pussy floods with heat.
“Look at me,” he rasps.
My gaze snaps to his face, and all I can see in his eyes is raw hunger. I
can’t believe how intoxicating it is to have this man’s full attention. I can’t
believe how aroused I am to obey his orders. It’s almost like I’m
submissive.
By the time Bard licks my fingers clean, I’m so soaked that I’m sliding
down my seat.
“Are you a screamer?” he asks.
I shake my head.
He flashes me the first grin since the boutique and says, “You’re about
to become one.”
“But—“
“Lie back and show me that pretty pussy.” His voice deepens an octave.
“That’s an order.”
He doesn’t need to ask me twice. I’m not even surprised at how easily I
twist around on the leather seat and recline on my back. I have never in my
twenty-one years wanted so desperately to obey an order.
I lie back with my legs parted, the feathery skirt around my waist. The
leather is cool against my back, and the air conditioning swirls around my
exposed thighs, making the skin pebble into goosebumps.
Bard’s gaze heats my skin as it lingers first on my face. Most guys
would stare straight into my exposed pussy, but he takes his time to scan my
every curve.
 My neckline is so low that it reveals even more side boob when I’m
lying flat, and the rest of the dress is so transparent and tight-fitting that I
may as well be naked. I should feel self-conscious, but I only feel sexy.
Bard’s breath quickens as he reaches the apex of my thighs. “Beautiful,”
he growls. “Now, spread your legs wider.”
Tingles travel across my skin coalescing straight to my clit. My breath
catches, and my heart skips several beats.
Fuck.
He’s going to use his tongue.
“Be a good girl and open your pussy for me with your fingers.”
I slide a hand between my legs, only to find wetness coating my inner
thighs. Bloody hell. The man has barely touched me, yet my body acts like
it’s in heat.
My fingers don’t tremble as they did earlier—I’m far too aroused to feel
awkward. If exposing myself will earn me his tongue, then I’m about to
become his private porn star.
Slipping my fingers over my throbbing clit, I part my wet folds and tilt
my hips.
Bard drifts closer with shallow breaths moving through his parted lips.
A thrill of triumph fills my chest at having taken off a layer of his control.
“You’re dripping,” he says, his voice breathy with awe.
“Yes, sir.”
“Do you like it when I take control?”
My gaze darts away from his. This is so difficult to admit, and I’m not
sure how to answer. I’ve always had to be strong and take care of everyone,
both at work and at home, but that was mostly out of necessity. Bard can’t
know that I’m crumbling on the inside.
The side of my finger brushes against my clit, making my back arch.
Of course, I love it when he takes charge. I loved having him buy me
clothes, take me out for dinner, and defend my honor. I loved it when he
erased my burden with a few taps on his phone. Does that mean I want to
become a pampered poodle?
No.
I could never become anyone’s side-piece kept hidden in Mirabilis
Mansions. Not if that means giving up my dream of medicine.
“Answer me if you want to cum,” he growls.
My mind clears, letting in a dose of common sense. He’s asking a
question, not proposing. There’s nothing wrong with a few days of mind-
blowing sex while I’m hiding from Connor.
“Yes,” I murmur. “I love it when you take control.”
Something shifts in his eyes, and his gaze darkens but with something
far more sinister than lust.
“If you want me to lick your pussy,” he says, his gaze fixed on my
exposed sex. “You’re going to have to beg.”

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 Chapter Eight

M y cheeks heat even hotter at Bard’s unexpected demand, but the

ache between my legs travels up to my chest. The way he hovers so close
between my spread legs makes my clit throb and swell to the point of
agony.
If he doesn’t lick me right now, I’ll explode.
I’m powerless to refuse.
“Please,” I whisper, my gaze locked on his. “T-touch me.”
The smile he gives me is so predatory that my heart stutters against its
resting place. I can’t tell if it wants to draw closer to him or escape. Bard
wraps a hand around my knee and presses a kiss on my inner thigh.
“Is this what you want, sweetheart?” he asks.
“Yes,” I hiss through my teeth.
He kisses me a little lower down, but it feels like an eternity before he
reaches my pussy. I tilt my hips, trying to bring my clit closer to his mouth,
but he grabs my hip.
“Impatient?” he asks. “Are you so eager for me to lick your wet pussy?”
I groan, “Please.”
“Please, what?” He gives me another kiss, this one an inch closer to
where I need him most. “Use your words.”
 My throat tightens. It’s almost like he wants me to talk dirty. What do I
mean, almost? Bard just said he wanted me to plead for his tongue.
All sense of propriety disappears into the ether as the muscles of my
pussy clench around nothing. If filthy words will put an end to these teasing
pecks, then it’s time to give him what he wants.
“Lick my pussy, Bard,” I say, my gaze dropping to his lips. “Make me
cum.”
With a groan, he licks a path down my thigh, igniting every nerve
ending on that patch of skin. My stomach dips in anticipation as his tongue
reaches my outer lips.
Bard pushes my fingers away from where I’ve been holding myself
open and slides his tongue from my entrance to my clit. My back arches,
and I release a moan.
“Good girl,” he mumbles, his tongue swirling around my most sensitive
spot. “Now, I want you to scream.”
“But, I don’t—“
His lips close around my clit, and he applies gentle suction, stealing my
breath. A rush of sensation has my hips lifting off the leather seat and my
lungs gasping noisily for air. This is insane.
I’ve never had anyone suck my clit. I didn’t even know that was a thing,
but Bard pulls at my clit and releases it in a rhythm that makes my eyes roll
to the back of my head.
Whimpering, I buck against his mouth as he brings me to the edge of
pleasure. Molten ecstasy builds around my core and the muscles of my
pussy clench and release in time with his suction.
Fuck.
My vision blurs, and my entire world concentrates on his mouth. This
feels so good.
When the tip of his tongue makes back-and-forth movements over the
peak of my clit, my vision fills with stars. Moans tear from my lips and
tremors seize my thighs as he brings me to the brink of orgasm.
My lashes flutter. My throat makes a keening sound. My eyes roll to the
back of my head. I’m so close.
“Eyes on me.”
His voice filters through my haze of bliss, but I’m too far gone to
concentrate. I buck my hips, trying to chase the orgasm, but he pulls away
his mouth, grabs my hips, and forces them still.
“Bard,” I whisper, desperately needing him to continue.
“Look at me, sweetheart, or I’ll stop.”
“O-okay.”
His eyes glaze. “I want to look into your soul as I tear it apart.”
I whimper. Does this man want to finish the job his wife started?
“You’ll scream for me, sweetheart,” Bard says, his voice so deep, I feel
it in the pit of my belly.
It’s not an order, not a request, but a prediction. My pussy quivers in
anticipation.
“Y-yes, sir.”
Instead of returning between my thighs, he motions at me to rise, and I
shift so I’m resting the weight of my upper body on my elbows. I’m not
sure what difference this position makes, but I now have a better view of his
blue eyes.
He reaches between my legs and traces the tip of his finger around my
over-sensitized clit as though smearing a trail of pleasure. My thighs
tremble, and I let out a noisy gasp.
“Just like that,” he says, his eyes fixed on mine. “Let the moans out,
sweetheart. Let the boys in the front seat hear how hard I’m making you
cum.”
My gaze snaps to the window separating our section of the limo with
the drivers, but all I see is darkened glass. I glance down at Bard, who
smirks.
 I’m no exhibitionist and I’ve never had sex when someone’s been in the
other room, let alone the same vehicle, but he’s gotten me so needy that I no
longer give a fuck who’s listening.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, I’m aware that having all his
bodyguards, associates, and father know his wife slept with his son must
have dented his pride. The only reason I’m not a crumpled mess is because
of Bard. If making a bit of extra noise will soothe his ego, then I’ll do it.
With a mouth as talented as Bard’s, I won’t even need to exaggerate.
“Bard, please,” I say, my voice breathy. “Don’t stop.”
His grin widens, and his chest rumbles with a growl. Before I know it,
his head is between my legs.
He makes flicking motions with his tongue, attacking my clit with
delicate bolts of pleasure.
My hips rise off the leather seat, but he holds them in place. The
flickering strokes of his tongue continue, and he slips a finger between my
slick folds and positions it at my entrance.
“You’re so wet,” he growls.
“Please,” I say. “I need to be filled.”
“Is that what you want, sweetheart?” he murmurs between each
delicious lick. “You want me to fuck you with my fingers while licking
your pretty little clit?”
“Yes.” I throw my head back.
“Look at me,” he snaps.
I tilt my head down, so we’re locking gazes again. With a nod of
satisfaction, Bard slips the tip of one finger into my pussy, followed by
another.
The stretch is so exquisite, I have to glance down between my legs to
make sure he’s penetrating me with two fingers instead of three. Bard’s
thick digits are nothing like Connor’s lithe fingers. As he slips them in past
the second knuckle, my walls tighten.
 “Oh, fuck,” I say out loud. “So thick.”
Bard smirks. “Good girl. So sweet and tight.”
I make a choked noise in the back of my throat. No one has ever given
me praise while filling my pussy. Before I can even consider the irony of
that thought, Bard’s lips clamp around my clit and he sucks.
This time, it’s even more intense, as his fingers slide in and out of my
channel while he pleasures my clit.
“Do you know how hard the boys in front would be to hear you moan?”
he whispers into my pussy. “They all saw how sexy you looked in that dress
and would kill to see you laid out with those feathers around your waist and
your pussy on display.”
“Oh god,” I scream.
“Wrong guy,” he growls. “But I’ll take the compliment.”
My orgasm is so close. I try to hold back, try to make this pleasure last a
little longer but his dirty words keep pushing me to that edge.
“Fuck, Brianna, are you always this wanton and wet?”
“Only. For. You,” I say from between clenched teeth.
“Don’t hold back,” he says through desperate licks. “Come for me,
baby. I want to feel that sweet pussy around my fingers.”
When the pad of his thumb brushes against the fine hairs on my pucker,
the last of my self-control snaps.
A powerful orgasm tears through me like a tsunami, forcing me onto my
back. Every fucked up ounce of pent-up tension, fear, and frustration rushes
out of me with one pleasurable release.
The intensity almost makes all the shit I went through with Lyra and
Connor worthwhile—almost.
“That’s it, sweetheart,” he murmurs through lengthy, languid licks that
only prolong the pleasure.
I keep convulsing and clenching and squeezing his fingers until I can
barely even breathe. Wave after wave of pleasure washes over my senses
until it feels like I’m being battered. Something in me shatters, and tears
spill out of my eyes. I can’t tell if I’m cumming or crying.
Bard kisses my trembling thighs, murmuring, “Shhh, baby. It’s okay,
you’re safe with me. I’m here.”
He continues whispering words of comfort as my orgasm fades and my
mind returns from its orbit, and I realize that the limo has stopped.
As he pulls out his fingers and licks them clean, my gaze drops to the
huge erection bulging through his pants. Shit. I was so focused on my
pleasure, I forgot to return the favor.
Dark figures hover outside, as though waiting for us to finish. I glance
past them and toward a huge manor house with a white exterior.
This has to be Mirabilis Mansions. I don’t know how to muster up the
courage to ask Bard to stay and fuck me until I forget my own name, but
that thought disappears as I realize that every bodyguard traveling with
Bard has heard my screaming orgasm.

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 Chapter Nine

M irabilis Mansions is more beautiful than I could ever have imagined,

with white columns adorning a limestone exterior and massive windows
with glimpses of tapestries and period paintings. It’s four times the size of
Bard’s mansion and screams old money.
Flood lights illuminate a manicured lawn, making it look like a stately
home. I’m so awed by its grandeur that I almost forget that the huge men
surrounding us heard my embarrassingly loud climax.
Bard carries a bag containing my work clothes and walks me through its
grand double doors, leaving behind his guards.
“This place looks pretty exclusive,” I whisper as we step into a hallway
with black-and-white tiled floors and vaulted ceilings.
He places a hand on the small of my back, infusing my skin with
warmth. “The mansions are neutral grounds,” he murmurs. “One of the few
places where high-ranking members of certain families may relax outside
their marriages.”
“With their mistresses,” I say.
He inclines his head.
We continue in silence down a wide hallway, passing open-plan rooms
manned by armed guards monitoring surveillance screens. I try not to gawk
at the excessive security and let him lead me into an elevator to the top
floor.
I clear my throat. “Have you ever brought anyone here?”
“I’ve been single most of my adult life so have never needed to hide
away a girlfriend.”
“What about after marrying Lyra?”
Heat flares across my lips, and I cringe the moment the words leave my
lips. I don’t usually get so attached to other people, and I’ve never known
myself to be possessive. Something about Bard takes me off-guard, and it’s
not just the way he eats my pussy.
He gazes down at me, his brows rising in a question. The air thickens
with unspoken tension, but I don’t dare to elaborate on why I’m inquiring.
Any other man would smirk and ask if I was jealous, but Bard only
says, “No.”
Our suite has an open-plan living and dining area with a kitchen alcove
at one end and a huge glass balcony overlooking the garden. It takes up the
entire floor space of our family home and even the outdoor space is twice
the size of my living room.
Bard places a hand on my shoulder, pulling my attention away from the
huge fireplace surrounded by oatmeal-colored leather sofas.
“You want to know if I had a mistress while I was married to Lyra?” he
asks.
My brain stumbles for an answer that doesn’t appear too nosey. “N-not
really, I was just asking...”
He smiles as my voice trails off and places a hand on the side of my
face. “Once a man agrees to be married, he should uphold that commitment.
I made my vows to Lyra fully expecting to be faithful.”
The implication of his words hit me straight in the heart, and my
stomach twists with a familiar sense of disappointment. I can’t tell if that’s
because he plans on leaving here unfulfilled or if it’s because he’s the kind
of hypocrite who doesn’t consider oral sex as infidelity.
This situation is so fucked up.
Forcing myself to hold his gaze, I ask, “So, what we did in the back of
the limo—“
“My marriage was over the moment my wife slept with my son and
plotted my death.”
Relief floods my system. I exhale and let my gaze fall to his lips. Bard
considers himself single. So do I.
“I have a question for you,” he murmurs, his voice breathy and deep.
Tingles explode across my skin. “Yes?”
“Do you still want that baby?”
“Yes,” I murmur.
“With Connor?”
“No.”
“Do you plan on forgiving him?”
The air thickens, charged with the intensity of Bard’s gaze. It’s as
though every molecule between us trembles with anticipation. As
realization sets in, my heart pounds double-time. Everything we did since I
crashed into him has led to this moment, from the dress to the admission
that he wanted me first, to the way he ate my pussy until I climaxed.
Bard isn’t just asking if I can forgive his son. He’s asking if I want him.
“I would never have a baby with Connor,” I whisper, my words
measured. “He didn’t just cheat on me. He almost got me killed, and I can’t
trust anyone who isn’t loyal to his family—“
Bard’s lips crash on mine, stealing away the rest of my sentence.
Nothing about this kiss is leisurely as his mouth explores mine with a
hunger that makes me feel like he can’t get enough.
My legs tremble, but he wraps an arm around my waist, pinning me to
his chest, while the hand that was on my cheek threads into my hair.
 Bard surrounds every fiber of my being. His masculine scent fills my
nostrils while his tongue fills my mouth, and my core aches and clenches
for him to fill my pussy.
Before I know it, my back is against the door, with my legs wrapped
around his waist, and his clothed cock grinding against my bare sex. I cling
onto his shoulders, gasping through the sensations.
“Tell me you want it,” he growls.
My lips part with a desperate moan. I don’t just want to get fucked—I
want Bard, but I’m not stupid enough to admit it. Bard might have seen me
first at the hospital and backed away because Connor claimed I’d already
agreed to go out on a date with him, but things are different. We’re both
stressed, both on the rebound, and both facing what might be a deadly
confrontation with our exes.
Hell, I’m not even sure that I’m thinking straight or just letting my
libido take control.
Doesn’t matter.
I doubt that I’ll ever be clear-headed until Bard has dealt with Lyra and
Connor, but I’m going to enjoy every inch of his hospitality.
“Fuck me,” I murmur into the kiss. “Fill me with that thick cock.”
He chuckles. “Dirty girl.”
I preen. Anything is better than being nice.
“Are you on the pill?” he asks.
Shit. My mind’s been so frazzled today that I completely forgot about
contraception.
I break away from the kiss. “Actually, I need to take it before we—“
“Don’t.”
I draw back, my eyes wide. “What?”
He raises a brow, knowing I heard him the first time.
“B-but you’re planning on cumming inside me, right?”
 “I plan on cumming deep inside you from all angles,” he growls. “In
fact, I don’t plan on stopping until you’re pregnant with my son.”
My heart kicks up a notch, and my pussy floods with heat. Is he
volunteering to give me that baby? No. This has to be some kind of
breeding kink. I’ve heard all about how some men want to fuck women
hard and fast as though they’re rutting like animals.
Bard’s erection thickens, pressing against my clit so deeply that I moan.
I reach between our bodies and fumble with his fly until I’ve unleashed
his cock. It springs free, practically jumping into my hand. We’re pressed so
tightly together that I can’t get a good look at it but I catch a thick, purpling
head streaming with precum.
Bloody hell.
It’s magnificent.
Bard’s lips find mine again, and he devours my mouth with desperate
strokes. Moaning, I lose myself in the kiss and cling to his neck, even
though I’m pinned against the door with both legs wrapped around his
waist.
The wood behind us is warm and smooth, a strong contrast to the
sensations coursing through my body.
The kiss deepens, and he thrusts his cock against my slit. My ears fill
with slick sounds as his crown parts my wet folds and grinds against my
clit. The pleasure is so intense that my body goes slack.
“Fuck, sweetheart,” he growls. “I can’t get enough of you or the way
you’re rubbing against my cock.”
He’s right. This moment could last forever. I could cum against him
again and again, but there’s a part of me that’s fixated on being bred.
I want Bard to push me down on all fours and fuck me without mercy or
restraint. I want him to growl in my ear and compliment me on how well
I’m taking his cock. I want him to cum inside my pussy until it’s leaking
down my thighs.
 His lips leave mine and move to my earlobe, and he clamps down hard
with his teeth. Electricity races through my nerves with an intensity that
makes me convulse. I’ve never felt so fucking alive. My signals are so
scrambled that my body misinterprets the pain as pleasure.
“How about it?” he rasps, his breath infusing my skin with delicious
warmth.
His cockhead presses down on my swollen clit with back-and-forth
strokes that fill my vision with stars. My breath stills. I cling onto him with
my eyes squeezed shut, my entire body shuddering. It feels like I’m
overdosing on sin.
“Are you going to let me fill you with my baby?” he asks, his lips
kissing a line of fire down my throat.
“Yes,” I respond in a mad rush.
Maybe it’s the wine I drank during dinner or the afterglow from my
orgasm. Maybe it’s the huge cock rubbing me closer and closer to a second
orgasm, but I want as much as he can give.
“Tilt your hips for me, sweetheart,” he murmurs. “I’m about to go in
raw.”

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 Chapter Ten

I ’m pressed against the wall, breathing harder than a racehorse, and

aching for Bard’s cock. Even the muscles of my pussy clench and release in
anticipation. Instead of entering me with one thrust, Bard secures my legs
around his waist, pulls back from the wall, and walks toward the crackling
fireplace.
“Where are we going?” I ask.
“I can’t take you against the wall for our first time,” he rumbles, his
deep voice vibrating through my chest and against my aching clit.
“Why not?”
He hesitates for a moment before saying, “I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“I can take it.” I grind against the thick cock.
Bard huffs a laugh.
“I’m big, sweetheart. If you’re not completely relaxed, I can guarantee
it will be painful.”
My gaze drops down to our bodies. We’re so tightly pressed together
that I can’t get another look at his cock, but now, I’m desperate to catch a
glimpse. Connor’s penis was much like his physique, long and wiry. At six-
four, Bard is the same height but has twice the muscle mass. Now, I can’t
help wondering if Bard has twice his son’s girth.
 He lays me down on the sofa and draws back. I’m about to raise myself
on my elbows to get a better look at his cock, when he dips down between
my legs.
“Bard?” I ask, my pussy aching.
“Shhh...” he says. “You will thank me later.”
Before I can ask what he means, he reaches for a box on the table and
extracts a packet of something long and thin before tearing it open with his
teeth.
It’s a pink sex toy.
“B-but I’m already relaxed and wet.”
“Trust me, baby,” he says. “You’re going to need a little extra help. Lie
back and let me take control.”
I flop back on the sofa with my legs open as far as its backrest will
allow and try not to squirm as Bard fills me with something made of
silicone. It’s about the girth of a man’s thumb but twice as long, containing
three thick, protruding joints.
Nothing much happens when the muscles of my pussy close around the
toy until Bard flips a switch.
A tiny motor whirrs inside me, accompanied by a pleasant buzzing.
Bard strokes his finger in tight circles around my clit as the toy expands.
“Oh,” I whisper, my voice breathy.
“Relax,” he says. “This toy is called a cunt-stretcher. It will get you nice
and loose for my cock.”
I’ve never had anything quite like this stretcher. It’s part inflatable, part
vibrator, and part torture device. My clit trembles in sync with its tiny
reverberations, and each time my pussy closes around the toy, it pushes
back.
Bard explains that the stretcher contains some AI technology that senses
blood flow and muscle tension so it can adjust the speed and width of the
expansions to give my body the chance to adjust.
 By the time it reaches the size of a banana, one of the joints swells and
pushes against my g-spot.
My eyes widen. “Fuck.”
“Good girl.” Bard rubs my clit with intermittent strokes, keeping me
teetering on a delicious precipice. “Let the stretcher do its work.”
He continues whispering words of encouragement, while the device
expands until it feels larger than a cucumber. A cucumber that’s swallowed
three vibrating oranges.
Panting hard, I throw my head back and moan. How big is Bard, really?
He never really allowed me to touch his cock for long enough, and all I got
to see was a thick head. Is this just a ploy to get me to try out a kinky toy?
Pressure builds up around my core, and my muscles push back. Bard
leans so close, I can feel the heat of his breath against my folds.
“Nearly there,” he says.
“Nearly what?” I reply with a gasp.
My clit is so swollen and sensitive that I can feel the ridges that make
up his fingerprints. Each gentle stroke he lavishes on my sensitive spot
lights up my insides like fireworks.
I buck my hips, wanting more friction, needing it, but Bard won’t
increase the pressure.
Electricity surges through my nervous system, and my heart gallops
around like a horse on a merry-go-round. I bite my lip, trying to contain my
arousal but it does nothing to stop my quivering muscles. Pressure builds
within, twisting and turning with anticipation until every inch of me spirals
closer to the edge.
My head spins. I’m prancing on the precipice of pleasure and pain with
an unbearable tension that keeps me suspended in exquisite torture.
“You’re soaking wet.” Bard’s voice cuts through my haze. “And so
close.”
“Just let me cum,” I say from between clenched teeth.
 “Push it out.”
“What?” I grind out.
“Bear down on the stretcher and it will give you a release,” he rasps,
sounding like he’s getting off watching me get destroyed by a sex toy.
“Push.”
I clench my teeth and bear down, my muscles trying to eject the
stretcher. It expands a little further, this time, pushing so hard against my g-
spot that my ears ring.
The ridges of his fingerprints drag against my clit, unleashing a
lightning storm of pleasure. I scream, my nerves alight as sensation sizzles
through my senses like an electric fire. My limbs flail about on the sofa as
the stretcher shrinks and expands, prolonging my orgasm.
Bard lifts me off the sofa and holds me tightly like he’s the only thing
keeping me from shattering.
My eyelids flutter closed as molten pleasure races through my veins,
making my body tremble with exquisite quakes. I’m bathed in sweat,
gasping for air and clenching uncontrollably as my climax intensifies. The
sensation is so overwhelming that I’m on the brink of losing consciousness.
“You look so beautiful when you cum,” Bard says, his voice anchoring
me to the world.
My lips part, but I’m unable to form words. Hell, I wouldn’t even know
what to say. Nothing has ever made me climax so hard.
I breathe hard, losing myself in the delicious sensations and letting the
intensity subside to a pleasure-filled haze. I open my eyes and meet’s Bard’s
gaze. He stares down at me with a hunger that makes my stomach flip. It’s
like he’s only moments away from feasting.
The intensity of his stare almost distracts me from the stretcher
shrinking to its original size. When it stops buzzing, Bard gives my clit a
playful tap.
“Push, sweetheart.”
 I obey, and the stretcher slips out of my pussy. At some point during my
out-of-control orgasm, Bard must have taken off his clothes because all I
can see is his broad, sculpted chest. The tattoo I glimpsed earlier is
magnificent—sleeves of knots and swirls that turn into a pair of wolves
stretching beneath his collarbones.
He picks up the toy between his thumb and forefinger and places it back
on its packaging. It’s so soaked in my juices that it no longer appears pink.
Bard turns back to me, his blue eyes nearly black. “You took the
stretcher so well. Did you enjoy it?”
“Enjoy would be an understatement,” I reply, my voice still breathy.
Bard positions himself between my spread legs. His gaze flicks down to
my lips and back to my eyes. If my limbs didn’t feel so heavy, I would wrap
my arms around his neck and pull him in for a kiss. I can’t remember the
last time I felt so carefree. It’s all thanks to Bard’s fingers and the stretcher.
“Feeling relaxed, sweetheart?” he asks.
“Very,” I reply with a lazy sigh.
“Good,” he growls, “Because now, you’re going to take my cock.”

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 Chapter Eleven

I ’m limp and boneless on the couch, my vision blurring at the edges.

The last vestiges of the stretcher’s orgasms still ripple through my core as
Bard reaches down and grabs my hips.
My gaze drops down his prominent pecs and tight abs to an erection so
long and thick that it has to be another toy. Even the cockhead I saw earlier
looks nearly the size of my fist.
“Wait.” I try to raise a hand, but my arm is too heavy. “How can that be
real?”
Bard wraps his fingers around his cock. Precum oozes out of his slit and
down his bulbous crown and an impossibly thick shaft. My stomach
plummets, and I suck in a shocked gasp.
Fuck the stretcher. No toy could possibly prepare me for such a huge
cock.
“It’s alright,” Bard says. “I’ll take it easy.”
“But...” The word dies on my lips.
“Just the tip.”
He continues stroking his shaft as though trying to convince me that it’s
tame. I follow the up-and-down movement of his fingers, transfixed. Thick
veins bulge down its sides like vines snaking around a tree, drawing me
closer.
 It’s an exquisite masterpiece. Utterly mesmerizing.
Wait a minute. Why am I complaining when Connor’s skinny dick has
never made me cum? Bard is huge, but he took all that time to get me
relaxed and ready. He knows exactly what he’s doing.
“Are you alright?” he asks.
I gulp. “It’s just so...” I shake my head. “I’ve never seen anything so
big.”
Most guys would preen at being told they’re humongous, but Bard’s
features harden. “Are you going to be a good girl and take my cock or will
you continue to be a brat?”
My jaw drops.
What did he just call me?
“I’m not a brat,” I snap.
“Prove it,” he says.
Reverse psychology doesn’t work on me. That’s what I say to myself as
my arm moves of its own accord between our bodies and grab his shaft.
He’s so thick that my fingers can’t meet my thumb, but I make sure to give
him a tight squeeze.
Bard hisses through his breath, his hips jerking. My chest inflates with
triumph, and I revel in a sense of victory. Who was he calling a brat?
“Trust me,” I say, mustering up some bravado. “You’re the one who’ll
be moaning.”
Grinning, Bard covers my hand that’s gripping his cock. “Want a bet on
that, sweetheart?”
“Do it.” I buck my hips.
As he lines up his crown at my entrance, tiny shivers skitter up and
down my spine. My muscles tense, my pulse quickens, and my brow breaks
out in a sweat. This feels like my first time, even though I’m no virgin.
Bard is my first older man, my first huge cock, and the first man who
ever made me climax twice before wanting anything in return.
 He leans down, his lips grazing my ear. “Breathe, Brianna. The stretcher
made your pussy nice and relaxed. You won’t even feel a pinch.”
“Fuck.”
He must feel me go rigid because his other hand slips between our
bodies and he rubs soothing circles over my clit. Pleasure swirls around my
core, bringing back the last set of aftershocks, and my muscles relax.
“Good girl,” he rasps. “You’re doing so well.”
“J-just give it to me,” I whisper, my limbs trembling.
He pushes into me until the crown of his cock breaches my entrance.
Sensations explode across my core, down my inner thighs, and up my belly.
I pant hard, my eyes rolling to the back of my head.
“Eyes on me,” he says.
I blink, focusing my gaze back on Bard’s face, which tightens into a
mask of control. He enters me with slow, delicious thrusts, his frame
trembling with restraint.
“Oh, fuck,” I murmur. “You’re too bloody big.”
He places a kiss on my lips. “Stay with me, sweetheart. You can take
every inch.”
“Easy. For. You. To. Say,” I groan.
“You’ll get used to me.”
He continues entering me with shallow, back-and-forth strokes, letting
my body adjust to his size. He never breaks eye contact, even when his
warm hand cups my cheek. It’s as though he doesn’t want to miss a single
moment.
Bard is huge in a different way from the stretcher. At least the toy
started small and built me up gradually. There are no size variations with
Bard’s cock. It’s just thick, solid, and unyielding.
His bulbous head grazes my G-spot, making my back arch.
“You like how I split you open, Brianna?” The corner of his lip lifts into
a half-smile.
 “Fuck, yes,” I groan.
“I knew you could take it,” he murmurs and pushes forward until I’m
filled to the hilt.
My breath catches. I grip his shoulders, grateful that he primed my
pussy with the stretcher because his length and girth are inhuman. How on
earth could Lyra cheat when she’s married to someone so well-endowed? It
makes no sense.
Bard remains with his cock nestled inside me, his large hands cupping
my cheeks. His blue eyes roam my face as though he’s searching for
something in my features.
I still, my heart fluttering, waiting for my muscles to adjust, but even
when my pussy stops clenching around his girth, he still doesn’t move.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“Taking you in,” he says, his gaze softening. “Savoring a moment I
want to remember for the rest of my life.”
I gulp, wondering if he really means what he’s saying, or if this is part
of his sexual repartee. Some guys use sweet talk to improve the sex, but
forget all their promises the moment they’ve climaxed.
His pupils dilate, and he leans even closer to brush his lips against mine.
A wave of warmth cascades through my chest, melting away my doubts.
I’m overthinking when I should be enjoying. Bard paid off all the
family’s debts, saved me from getting embroiled in Connor’s stupid plot,
and provided me with a safe hiding spot.
“You feel so good, sweetheart,” he says. “I love the way your little
pussy kneads and squeezes my cock.”
My muscles tighten around his shaft. If he continues talking like that, I
might just have another orgasm.
“Please,” I whisper. “Fuck me.”
Bard’s nostrils flare, and he pulls back his hips. I brace myself, ready
for his hips to snap, but he rocks back and forth with gentle thrusts.
 He fucks with the type of slow and steady rhythm that makes my toes
curl. Sex with Bard is like floating on a calm body of water. His strokes stir
intense little ripples of pleasure, each one building on top of the next.
Throughout these gentle thrusts, he strokes my face, threads his fingers
through my hair, and gazes into my eyes. His touch is so tender, I almost
forget that he’s so big.
“You’re so beautiful, laid out beneath me, taking my cock like a good
girl,” he says.
Moaning, I arch my back, roll my hips in time with his thrusts, and
savor the sensation of his body moving into mine. His hot breath fans
across my neck, sending pleasant shivers across the rest of my skin.
Up until this moment, sex has always been the glue to keep a
relationship together. It was something I could take or leave because
orgasms were better with my fingers. But the way Bard gives me pleasure
and looks at me like I’m something precious is addictive.
Digging my fingers into his broad back, I whisper, “Please, don’t stop.”
Bard picks up the pace, with harder, faster strokes. Every sharp thrust
delivers shockwaves that make me gasp and moan. My inner walls tighten
and quiver around him as he pushes me to the edge of ecstasy.
I wrap my legs around his ass, not wanting to cum so soon.
“What’s it like to be fucked raw, Brianna?” he growls.
“Oh...” I say through panting breaths. “I-I... Fuck.”
“That good?” he asks with a breathy chuckle.
“Yes,” I hiss.
“I’m going to claim your pussy,” he says.
My muscles spasm around his shaft.
“I’m going to cum inside you,” he adds. “Fill you up.”
My eyes roll backward.
How much cock can a woman take before she explodes from pleasure?
For the first time ever, I’m about to find out.
 Sensations twine around my senses and wind around my core like a
spring. Bard’s thick cockhead keeps hitting a spot that fills the edges of my
vision with fireworks. I clench my muscles, dig my fingers into his flesh,
and fight against the impending orgasm.
Bard sucks my earlobe between his lips and groans, his deep voice
rumbling through my eardrums and making a direct descent to my clit.
“Every inch of you is mine,” he says.
“Yours,” I whisper.
“You’re so beautiful, so tight, so mine.”
“Aaaah!”
“Will you be a good girl for me and cum all over my cock?”
A strangled cry bubbles up in my throat. What the fuck did he just say?
Bard drives into me with harder thrusts, hitting my sweet spot over and
over until my vision fills with stars. I throw my head back, my muscles
shuddering, my nipples hardening.
“Tell me you want my cum inside you,” he growls.
“I want you to cum inside me,” I say between breaths. “Please cum
inside me.”
“You’re my good girl,” Bard growls. “My perfect fucking girl. I’ll
always take care of you.”
His words push me off the edge and make me tumble backward into an
abyss. The tension in my inner walls releases like a dam breaking,
drowning me in a flood of pleasure. This second orgasm is just as powerful
as the one he gave me with the stretcher, except this time, he’s holding and
stroking me so I don’t break apart.
Bard grunts and thrusts two more times before he snarls, “Fuck,
Brianna, I’m cumming.”
Warm cum fills my pussy with powerful spurts. I tremble around his
pulsing cock. It’s the most intense sensation and the first time I’ve ever had
sex without a condom.
 As Bard’s orgasm fades, reality creeps back into the edges of my
consciousness. Is this the moment he gets dressed and leaves?

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 Chapter Twelve

W e both pant on the sofa together, our bodies intertwined. The walls
of my pussy keep trembling around his cock from delicious
aftershocks. I wait for Bard to pull out, make his excuses, and leave, but he
runs the tip of his tongue along my neck.
As Bard’s erection softens, I tighten around his shaft, silently urging
him to stay. He wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me close, his
nose buried in my hair.
“You were amazing,” he murmurs.
The thought of getting pounded by him so close to two powerful
orgasms makes my pussy spasm.
“Careful, sweetheart,” he growls. “Keep squeezing like that, and I’ll be
ready for round two.”
“Then you’d better slide out,” I say.
“As if I’d ever let you go. You’re mine.”
My heart skips, and my eyelids flutter shut. He says that like a threat,
but I want it to be a promise. Bard can’t be real. I’ve never been with a man
so committed to making me climax. I’ve never cum so many times in one
evening.
Bard draws back. “Look at me.”
 I crack open an eye to find him gazing into my face, his features soft.
It’s as though he’s shed every layer of stress from earlier today and is back
here being the real Bard—the one who’s always kind and relaxed at family
dinners.
“Tired?” he asks with a smile.
“It’s been a rollercoaster.” I yawn. “One minute, I’m fearing for my life.
The next, I’m being fucked to within an inch of it.”
His laughter makes my heart flutter, and I can’t help but smile. I want to
be the one he turns to after a hard day. I want to be his comfort. I want to be
the one who makes him smile.
I can’t linger on those thoughts for long, because another yawn shoves
its way out of my lungs, and my eyelids droop. This isn’t like me to feel so
relaxed.
“Let’s get you to bed,” he murmurs. “It’s been a trying day.”
“That’s one way of putting it,” I slur.
Bard’s arms tighten around my waist, and he rises off the sofa, bringing
me with him. My stomach lurches, my head flops against one of his
shoulders, and I cling onto the other for dear life.
“I’m heavy.”
He laughs softly, the sound vibrating through his chest. “Don’t worry.
I’ll never let you go.”
I’ll never let you go.
The words echo through my chest. Is he talking about my body or our
future? I don’t have the guts to ask, fearing that pushing for an answer
might break this blissful bubble.
My muscles twitch, and Bard groans. That’s when I realize his cock is
still inside my pussy.
He carries me across the living space and into a beautiful bedroom four
times the size of the one I have at home. Pale cream walls, dark wood
furniture, and a king-size canopy bed surrounded by gauzy, white curtains.
It looks like something out of a fairytale, but I could say the same about the
entire night.
My eyelids fall shut as I picture myself as Cinderella, Lyra as the
wicked stepmother, and Bard as the handsome prince. Connor would be that
spiteful cat who was always trying to get Cinderella into trouble.
Bard lays me on the softest bed and slides out of me with a sigh.
Something inside me deflates, even as he presses a kiss on my forehead.
“Stay with me for a moment longer,” he says. “I want to take care of
you.”
He disappears through another door, letting it swing shut. I blink, my
gaze wandering around the room’s gilded landscape paintings. So, this is
where high-ranking men within the major crime families hide their
mistresses?
I believe Bard when he says I’m the first woman he’s slept with since
getting married. There’s something honorable about him that I don’t see in
other men. Unlike everyone I know, he makes good on his promises.
Bard returns with a bowl of water and a washcloth, and the mattress
dips as he settles on my side. Somehow, he knows exactly what I need—not
just physical pleasure or solutions to my troubles, but care and tenderness.
“You look so beautiful, laid out on the bed with my cum oozing out of
your pussy.” His thick finger slides up my inner thigh, following the trail of
moisture escaping me, and he slides it through my folds.
My breath catches.
Is he pushing semen back into me or working on getting me wet again?
“That’s a good girl,” he murmurs. “Take it back in, don’t waste a drop.”
My clit swells in anticipation of his touch, and I groan. Bard has given
me more pleasure in one evening than Connor could ever dare to offer me
in a month. I can’t take any more.
With gentle strokes, he cleans up between my legs, careful not to
aggravate my sensitive flesh. Warmth courses through my chest, melting
my muscles into the soft mattress. This is another first. No man has ever
cleaned me up after sex, but then this is my first time without a condom.
After getting me clean, Bard pats my pussy with a dry cloth. His touch
lingers on my damp flesh, leaving behind a trail of warmth. He’s
surprisingly tender for a man who belongs to the Dagda’s inner circle.
He leans between my spread legs and trails soft kisses over my pussy.
“So beautiful,” he murmurs. “And all mine.”
My breath turns shallow as he kisses his way up my body with gentle
caresses. His touch is so soft that it feels like being brushed with feathers.
Maybe it’s a dream because I’ve never felt so loved.
Bard pulls back the covers and settles me within the silk sheets. The
mattress behind me dips as he climbs into bed with me and brushes my hair
off my face. His fingers trace a scar on my neck that makes me shiver.
“What’s this?” he asks, his voice deceptively calm.
“Huh?”
“This mark on your neck. It looks like you’ve been nicked by a knife.”
“Oh, that,” I slur.
“Who did that to you?”
“Someone from the Asgard Casino got a bit rough.”
Bard’s fingers still, but he doesn’t speak. I’m about to lift off to sleep
again when he asks, “What did he look like?”
“Skinny guy with long, greasy hair,” I mutter. “Thought he was Severus
Snape.”
His lips descend on my scar, and for a moment it almost feels like he
could really kiss it better. “No one will ever touch you again,” he murmurs.
“Not without losing their hand.”
He wraps his arms around my middle, pulling me into his broad chest,
and continues nuzzling my neck.
I’m so drowsy to question why he’s staying the night when he could be
out there foiling the plot on his life. It doesn’t matter. Instead, I let myself
drift off to sleep in Bard’s warm embrace. It’s enough for now that he’s
here.
“What are you doing to me, Brianna?” he murmurs as I fall asleep.
“Everything about you makes me obsessed.”

I can’t remember the last time I slept so soundly or even so deeply, but
when I open my eyes, I’m alone. My hand drifts to Bard’s side of the bed,
which is still warm.
The door opens, and he steps inside, wearing a black silk dressing gown
that clings to his muscular chest. In his hands is a silver tray containing
cups, saucers, and three silver pots.
“Good morning, sweetheart,” he says with a dazzling smile. “I didn’t
know if you liked tea, coffee, or hot chocolate, so I made all three.”
Sitting up, I rest my back against the headboard, the sheets sliding down
to expose my breasts. Bard’s eyes glaze with lust. He crosses the room and
sets the tray down on the bedside table.
I expect him to climb beside me for a second round of sex, but he
reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone.
“Can you identify someone?” he asks.
“You found dad?” I ask.
Shaking his head, he taps a few commands into his screen. “Is this the
man responsible for the scar on your neck?”
My fingers drift to where the debt collector pushed in the knife as he
threatened to sell me in an auction if I didn’t clear Dad’s casino marker. It
was also the moment I decided to work for Connor’s illegal fight club.
“Wait,” I murmur, “How—“
Bard shows me a picture of a half-conscious man with greasy hair
gathered into clumps. One of his eyes is swollen shut, and blood streams
down from this broken nose into his busted lip.
Phantom pain slices through my neck and the backs of my eyes grow
hot. I would recognize that sadistic bastard anywhere.
“Yes,” I say from between clenched teeth. “That’s him, but how do you
know?”
“You told me as you were falling asleep,” Bard says.
“But how did you find him?” I ask.
Bard puts the phone to one side and holds my chin between his thumb
and forefinger. “Nobody, not even my son, gets away with touching my
woman.”
My jaw drops. I’m not sure whether to be happy that he’s so protective,
or frightened about what he plans on doing with the debt collector. Maybe
that’s because my mind hasn’t begun to process that he just implied that I
belong to him.
I want to ask exactly what he means, and if this protection only lasts the
duration of our alliance, but my phone rings.
Bard is the first to break eye contact and turns toward the bedside table.
He picks up my phone, all traces of affection on his features gone.
“It’s Connor,” he says.

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 Chapter Thirteen

T he bubble of happiness pops, bringing me back to the harsh light of

reality. An ache forms in the pit of my stomach as fact after fact hits me in
the gut:
I almost got killed yesterday. I’m in a safe house in hiding from my
boyfriend who’s cheating on me with his stepmother, while I’m cheating on
him with his dad.
Bard tries to hand me the ringing phone, but I scramble to the other side
of the bed.
“Brianna?” he asks with a frown.
“I can’t talk to him,” I hiss. “He’ll know something’s up the moment I
start speaking.”
“This could be important,” Bard says. “If he has any information we can
gather on the plot against my life—“
“You’re right.”
Heat flares across my cheeks, and I try not to cringe at my selfishness.
Facing Connor is nothing compared to everything Bard has done to help
me.
I reach out a trembling hand, but he doesn’t give me the phone.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
 Bard sets the handset aside. “Let it go to voicemail. Connor will call
back.”
“But the plan—“
“You need a few more minutes to work out what you’re going to say.”
He beckons me over. “And I need to find a way to keep you calm when
Connor calls.”
As the phone stops ringing, Bard beckons me closer, and I scoot across
the bed.
“Hot chocolate?” he asks.
My gaze darts to the silver tray on the bedside table. “Um... yes,
please?”
“Let’s get a bit of sugar inside you,” he says with a wink. “Good for the
shock.”
I sit on the edge of the mattress, watching him pour the thickest, most
decadent hot chocolate. My nostrils fill with the rich scent of cacao, making
my mouth water, and not just for the drink.
He stirs in a teaspoon of brown sugar, adds a dollop of heavy cream,
and hands me the cup. “Drink.”
I take a sip, letting the dark chocolate coat my tongue. It’s just as it
smells—rich and creamy and sweet with a hint of salt and vanilla. As I
swallow, it melts away my anxiety and fills me with warmth.
“Where did you get this?” I ask.
“An old recipe I perfected from my restaurant days,” he replies with a
smile.
My brows rise. After seeing the number of men around the Dagda’s
table, it’s no surprise that their family has connections to all kinds of
industries. What I don’t expect is for Bard to be able to cook.
“It’s delicious,” I murmur.
Licking his lips, he fills his cup and brings it to his mouth. “Nothing
could ever taste as good as you.”
 My core clenches at the reminder of how he laid me down on his
limousine’s leather seat and licked my pussy until I came. I squeeze my
thighs together, trying to hide my arousal but Bard watches me, his eyes
dark and hooded.
“Next time he rings, answer it.”
“But we haven’t worked out what I’m going to say.”
“You went up north to look for a new job.”
“Where?” I ask.
“It’s none of his business.”
I sit straighter. “You want me to act angry?”
His brow rises. “Aren’t you?”
I bite down on my bottom lip. “It’s hard to feel rage when you’re in
survival mode.”
Bard’s features fade, all traces of lust giving way to concern. He sets
down his cup and lowers himself next to me on the mattress. “Is that how
you feel?”
No, but it’s complicated.
Sucking in a deep breath, I stare down at the blob of cream melting into
the hot chocolate and try to sift through my words. “Here and now, I feel
safe with you, but it’s hard to ignore what’s happening on the outside.”
“And?”
I run my fingers through my hair. “Connor’s going to be furious when
he finds out I’ve told you—“
“Connor won’t be a problem for much longer,” he growls.
My gaze snaps up to meet Bard’s cold blue eyes. Sometimes, I forget
he’s a ruthless gangster. If Bard can track down a debt collector and hold
him captive in a room, I’m not naive enough to think he’ll let Connor go
with a slap on the wrist.
“What will you do?” I whisper, already suspecting the answer.
“Do you still care for him?”
 I shake my head. “The man I fell in love with never really existed,” I
murmur. “I realized at the end of a barrel that it was all an act.”
“Explain what you said earlier about being in survival mode,” Bard
asks.
“Connor didn’t give me time to get angry. Ten seconds after finding him
in bed with Lyra, she brought out a gun. After that, I was running for my
life.”
“And then you crashed into my limo,” he says.
A sigh escapes my lips. “Are you asking if I slept with you for
survival?”
“Did you?”
There’s an edge to his voice that I don’t understand. Bard gave me lots
of chances to turn down his advances. Everything I did last night was
because I wanted it. I wanted him.
“No.”
I raise my gaze to find his features guarded, and it takes a heartbeat to
remember that he’s also been betrayed. Bard might be the richest, most
handsome, and sexiest man I know, but he isn’t a mind reader.
“Do you know what I wish?” I murmur.
He shakes his head, his eyes hooded.
“That you made your move the moment you saw me in the hospital.
That someone else around the table married Lyra, so I could have you.”
The corners of his lips twitch. “And why’s that?”
“Because I’d have the kindest, sexiest, most handsome boyfriend with
the biggest cock, and I wouldn’t have to fake my orgasms.”
Bard lets out a deep chuckle and my heart flutters at the thought of
making him happy. He wraps an arm around my shoulders and gives me a
gentle squeeze.
“Me too.” He places a kiss on my temple. “And I’m glad you crashed
into me yesterday because I don’t ever plan on letting you go.”
 Joy surges through my chest but it’s tinged with worry. Worry that Bard
might be consumed by his hurt feelings. He’s still reeling from a double
betrayal, and I might be a convenient source of comfort.
Pushing those thoughts aside, I rest my head on his shoulder and take a
sip of the sweet, hot chocolate. Should any of this matter when Bard has
already given me so much?
“So, when he calls, I tell him that I’ve gone up north to look for another
job,” I say.
Bard nods. “And Connor will do everything he can to make you come
back.”
“Right, because he wants me to keep his secret.”
“This is your time to rage at him if that’s what you want, but you’ll
eventually agree to meet him.”
A knot forms in my stomach as I remember the huge man with the eye
patch who roared at Bard to use me as bait. I might be able to bullshit
Connor over the phone, but I still can’t stop thinking about the gun.
“When?” I ask.
“At the party,” Bard replies. “You’ll arrive late when everyone else is in
place and take your seat, so you don’t spend any time alone with Connor.”
Relief whooshes out of me in an outward breath. “I sit with everyone
else and act normal. That’s all?”
“Can you manage that?” he asks.
“Of course.” I gaze up at him and smile.
He leans down, gives me a peck on the lips, and grins. “Feeling better?”
“Much.”
“Finished your hot chocolate?”
“Wait a minute.” I take two large gulps and lick the sweet liquid from
my lips. “All done.”
Bard takes my cup, sets it on the bedside table, and turns back to me, his
eyes dark. “Good, because you’re going to give me something sweeter.”
“Sweeter?” I squeak.
The arm around my shoulder tightens. “I want you to sit on my face.”

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 Chapter Fourteen

M y mouth hangs open and I gaze into Bard’s blazing eyes. What did
he just say? Connor used to hate it when I asked to go on top, and even on
the few occasions we were in the cowgirl position, he’d always flip me
around and take control.
“You heard me, sweetheart,” Bard says, his voice smoky and low. “Sit
on my face.”
Arousal hits me straight between the legs, sending a shiver through my
core. My pussy clenches with need.
“Are you sure?” I whisper. “I’m heavier than I look.”
He fixes me with an incredulous glare: one eyebrow raised and lips
pursed, his features a mask of disbelief. That’s when I remember how he
almost fucked me against the wall. Of course, he knows how much I weigh.
“If you’re worried about crushing me, don’t,” he says.
My teeth worry at my bottom lip. “But how will I know you’re still
breathing.”
Bard chuckles. “Are you asking me to give you a safe word?”
“More like a non-verbal way to tell me to stop,” I reply, trying not to
squirm.
The number of horror stories I hear from the Accident and Emergency
department would make anyone nervous. People have choked and suffered
heart attacks, strokes, and all manner of catastrophes during edgy sex. I
don’t want to hurt Bard and I sure as hell don’t want to face everyone at the
Dagda’s table to explain how I assassinated him with my pussy.
“How about I tap your thigh?” he asks.
“Alright,” I whisper.
Bard scoots back on the mattress and lies face-up. My gaze wanders
down the silk dressing gown to where it’s tented at the crotch. As I shift on
the bed, the fabric parts, revealing a pair of black boxers that can barely
contain his semi-hard cock.
Oh, shit.
I don’t know how to get started.
His large hand grabs mine, and he raises his body off the mattress to fix
me with a determined glare. “Be a good girl and ride Daddy’s face.”
My nipples tighten, and my clit swells to the point of bursting. Did I just
hear him right?
“Now,” he growls.
A burst of obedience kicks me into action. I can’t wait to feel how he
devours me with his lips and tongue.
“Y-yes, sir,” I murmur.
Bard guides me into position so I’m on my hands and knees with my
pussy hovering over his head. His hot breaths fan across my inner thighs.
“Fuck, you look good like this,” he growls.
Heat floods my cheeks and spreads down to my tight nipples. Before I
can consider what he’s looking at, he holds my hips and pulls me so close
that his stubble grazes my skin and I can almost feel his lips on my labia.
He groans. “And you smell good enough to eat.”
My eyes widen, and it takes every molecule of self-control not to
scramble off the bed and demand a shower. Instead, I keep my weight
balanced on my hands and knees, not wanting him to suffocate.
 Bard swipes his tongue down the length of my slit, and a pleasant
shudder rips through my body and settles on my skin.
Panting hard, I bite my bottom lip to keep from crying out, but it’s near
impossible with the way his tongue moves up and down my pussy with
languid strokes.
Bard alternates between swirling its tip around my swollen slit and
lapping up the fluids at my entrance. All the while, I’m panting hard and
struggling not to collapse on his face, wondering how much more of this I
can take.
Oral sex from this angle is so intense. I clench the sheets, barely able to
hold back. My thighs tremble with the effort of keeping me upright, and
every muscle in my body quivers.
I must stay strong.
I must not collapse.
But if Bard continues licking me like I’m his last supper, I’ll lose my
balance, fall back on my ass, and crush him to death.
“Brianna.” Bard’s sharp voice slices through my thoughts.
“Yes?” I blurt.
“You’re not sitting on my face.”
Before I can tell him otherwise, he grabs my hips and pulls me down.
With a gasp, I lose my balance, and my pussy meets his mouth.
Bard thrusts his tongue into my opening, making my stomach dip.
Bloody hell.
My eyes roll back as his tongue invades my pussy. I cry out, my hands
tightening around his.
“That’s it,” he growls into my folds, his voice muffled and distorted.
“Give me your full weight. Sit on me. Smother me. Drown me in your
cunt.”
“Holy shit,” I whimper, my body melting under his command.
“You taste so good, sweetheart,” he says. “Better than any chocolate.”
 Bard sucks my clit into his mouth and lavishes it with gentle flicks. My
back arches and my nails dig into his skin. Pressure builds up around my
core, and my muscles tighten. I breathe hard, trying to process the onslaught
of pleasure, but it’s overpowering.
His fingers dig into my hips and he moves them in a circular motion,
forcing me to grind against his face.
“Don’t hold back. Let Daddy hear how much you like this,” he says, his
voice muffled.
“Oh god,” I grind out, feeling ready to break.
“That’s right,” he says with a rough chuckle. “And I’m going to make
you squirt.”
Fuck. This is getting out of hand.
There’s a part of me that wants to lose control and surrender to Bard,
but another part of me doesn’t want to become addicted to a man who can
give me everything. I don’t want to be anything like Lyra who always gave
the impression during family dinners that she can only take.
I want to show Bard that I’m not some tame little mouse who’s grateful
for his attention. He needs to know I can give him something in return.
Releasing his hands, I lean down to where his erection strains against
his black boxers. The fabric is so tight that it highlights every vein and
contour, including the way it’s forced to bend to one side.
That has to be painful.
Bard gives my clit a gentle suck, lighting up my entire nervous system
with bolts of electricity.
I pull on the waistband, letting his cock spring free, and I wrap my
fingers around his impossibly thick shaft and give it a few strokes.
His deep groan reverberates across my pussy. I clench hard, my core
flooding with delicious heat.
Running my tongue along his slit, I lap up the bead of precum and make
him shiver. The intensity of his tongue slows to something more
manageable, allowing me to concentrate on his pleasure.
“Fuck, Brianna,” Bard moans. “You’re driving me insane.”
My lips curl into a smile, and my chest fills with triumph. It’s a tiny win
and one step closer to making my time with him memorable. With the other
hand not stroking him, I pull down his boxers and cup his balls.
Bard stills, his breath quickening.
I drag my nails back and forth against his skin.
“How does that feel?” I ask.
He shudders but doesn’t answer, so I do it again.
“Fuck,” he groans around my pussy. “Don’t stop.”
With a giggle, I swirl my tongue around the crown of his cock, earning
a breathy moan. He’s been taking control for so long. It’s time I show him
I’m more than the good girl who runs around patients at the hospital or the
doormat whose boyfriend is a cheat.
I’m a woman worth keeping.
Alternating between teasing the tip of his cock with my tongue and
sucking it into my mouth, I force myself to concentrate. It’s a difficult feat
when Bard matches me stroke for stroke. He sucks gently at my clit, driving
me to the edge of insanity.
My heart pounds hard enough to burst my eardrums. I’m so close to
climaxing.
So close to squirting all over his face just as he commanded.
So close to losing control and giving him everything.
Gripping his cock around the base even tighter, I earn myself a grunt,
and bob my head up and down his shaft. Bard’s hips jerk in time with my
movements, while my own grind over his face.
I have no idea how he’s breathing when I’m pressed so tightly against
him, but my mind is too frazzled for these types of questions. He’s still
driving me toward a powerful climax and giving me the best pleasure of my
life and so am I. Nothing else matters.
 The phone rings again, interrupting my happy train of thought.
With Mum overseas and Dad never getting in contact this early in the
morning, I don’t need to look at the screen to know who’s calling.
It’s Connor, and this time I’m no longer in survival mode.
This time, I’m ready to fight back.

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 Chapter Fifteen

I glower at the ringing phone, my mind conjuring up a single word. It

isn’t betrayal or revenge or justice—it’s queening. That’s the fancy way of
describing how I’m sitting on the face of Connor’s father.
Sitting on this gorgeous throne has infused me with courage because I
feel none of the anxiety from when Connor called earlier. I just want to get
this conversation over with so his dad can make me cum.
“Put him on speaker,” Bard says from between my folds. “Now.”
He doesn’t need to ask me twice. I reach across to the bedside table, hit
the green button to answer, and then press the speaker button.
Connor is the first to break the silence. “Where are you?”
I hesitate. That bastard has the nerve to demand my location after
cheating and potentially getting me involved in a deadly plot to kill his
well-connected father?
“Brianna?” he growls. “I came to your house this morning and you
weren’t there, then I went to the hospital and asked around. They told me
it’s your day off, so where the fuck are you?”
Bard runs his fingers down my thigh with soft, comforting strokes. He’s
trying to tell me to stay calm and remember the plan.
“Up north,” I say.
“Where?”
 “Shouldn’t I be the one asking the questions?” I snap.
The sound on the other end muffles and I swear I can hear hushed
voices. It’s as though he’s speaking to someone else. Someone else like
Lyra. She probably convinced him to come after me and make sure I kept
their filthy secret.
“Brianna,” Connor says, sounding less urgent. “I’m sorry about what
you saw, but I need your help.”
“Go on,” I say.
Connor hesitates, and Bard resumes what he’s doing with his tongue. I
pinch my lips together, exhales through my nostrils, and try not to make a
sound. The silence continues, only filled by the slow slurp and slide of
Bard’s strokes. I’m about to tumble off a delicious precipice, when Connor
coughs.
“I can’t talk about it over the phone,” he snarls.
I turn my gaze to Bard’s erection and give it a few pumps. He shivers
and clutches at my hip. Since it’s not the tap we agreed would be his safe
word, I continue stroking his cock.
Bard’s frame relaxes, and he sucks on my clit.
“T-text me?” I say through clenched teeth, trying to hold back my
orgasm.
Bard lashes his tongue over my clit, making me squeeze my eyes shut.
“I don’t know,” Connor replies.
Pressure builds and builds until my hands clench into fists. “Alright,
then,” I say through ragged breaths. “We’ll chat when I get back. See you
later?”
“Wait,” he blurts. “What’s the number of your mate at the pharmacy?”
An orgasm tears through my insides like a cyclone. A sound rises to the
back of my throat, and I disguise it as a coughing fit. Bard’s tongue slows,
riding me through my silent climax until I collapse on top of him, spent.
“Why?” I ask with a groan.
 “We—I need a fast-acting poison—“
There’s a disturbance on the phone before the line goes dead.
Bard taps my hip, and I scramble off his face.
He rises off the bed, his face a mask of fury, looking nothing like a man
who just made a woman cum.
“That’s how he intends to get rid of me?” he growls.
I gulp, my pussy still clenching from aftershocks. “Should I call him
back?”
“Then he’d want to know why you’re so curious, and the other person
on the line would get suspicious.”
“You’re right.” I place a hand on Bard’s shoulder. “But I think I should
at least try to help him get some kind of poison.”
His brow furrows.
“That way, we get to know how he plans on administering it,” I say, my
words tumbling from my lips. “If it’s an injectable, then you know to keep
your distance. If it’s a tablet, then you’ll watch what you eat and drink.”
“Of course.” He pinches the bridge of his nose. “What a cowardly little
bastard.”
I nod, wishing there was something I could do to ease the sting. The
time I spent with Bard has already helped me get over Connor. If Connor
had truly cared about me, he would have done more to help ease my
burden. The money he gave me each week was useful, but I still had to
work for every penny.
Strangely, seeing how a real man takes care of a woman made me
realize that all the men in my life had been selfish boys.
Giving Bard what I hope is an encouraging squeeze, I say, “By the time
we’ve finished with him, he’ll wish he was the one who took that poison.”
He gazes up at me with a crooked smile. “Do you have a plan?”
“Actually, I do.” The words tumble from my lips before I can stop them,
but I keep going. “Connor’s going to make his move at your birthday party,
in front of witnesses from both families, right?”
He nods.
“So, that rules out an injectable.”
Bard’s gaze sharpens. “Because attacking me would get him killed.”
“He or Lyra will slip something into your food or drink, which means
you have a chance.”
“How so?”
“We don’t know where the poison will come from, only the day they’ll
administer it.” I bite down on my bottom lip. “We might not even know
what form it will take, so we can’t look for an antidote.”
Bard scowls. “I have a good mind not to eat or drink anything, but I’m
also hosting the Greeks.”
“Right, and they’ll get suspicious they’re eating and you’re not.”
“Exactly,” he mutters.
“But we can make sure you ingest large quantities of activated charcoal.
It’s something they use at the hospital to stop drugs and poisons from being
absorbed into the bloodstream.”
Bard cocks his head to the side and stares as though he’s never seen me
before.
“It won’t neutralize the poison but it will bind to its molecules and keep
it from attacking your organs. Taking charcoal is like a preemptive strike.”
“Does it have any side effects?”
I shake my head. “It’s as harmless as eating burned toast. There’s even a
brand that comes in capsules.”
His gaze softens. “You’re brilliant.”
Warmth spreads across my cheeks, and I dip my head to hide a smile.
No one ever compliments me on my brain, let alone calls me brilliant.
“You can take a large quantity before the dinner party to line your
stomach. I’ll look up the maximum dose.”
 Bard gathers me into his arms and pulls me into his chest. Just as I tilt
up my head to meet his sparkling eyes, the phone buzzes.
It’s a text message from Connor.
Send me your friend’s number.
My gaze darts to Bard. “I think we should know which poison he plans
on using.”
Bard settles me onto his lap. “Do it.”
I sit and fire off a few texts to Kelvin, my friend who works in the
hospital pharmacy, who often supplies me with drugs I use to administer
first aid at the fight club. When Kevin agrees to let me know which poison
Connor orders, I forward Connor his contact details.
“Done,” I murmur and lean against Bard’s chest. “Now, we wait.”
Bard wraps his arms around my middle and exhales a sharp breath.
“Stupid bastard. He’ll be dead the moment Lyra gets what she wants.”
“You mean she’ll kill him?”
“I have no doubt.”
Resting my head on his shoulder, I run my hands up and down his
muscular forearms, trying to offer him the kind of comfort he offered me.
“You could gather Connor and Lyra up as you did with the debt collector.
Then you’ll get rid of the threat.”
“And I’ll never smoke out who, if anyone, in the Greek Mafia is
working with Lyra.”
“Right.” Now, it’s my turn to frown. “But I thought there was a truce
between all the major families.”
“That doesn’t stop people from acting like idiots,” he says.
I melt against his chest. “I hate the thought of you walking into an
ambush. They could put the poison in anything, even salt.”
“Worried?” he asks with a chuckle.
My hand slides down his thigh. “Let’s just say I’ve gotten a bit attached
to the way you make my toes curl.”
 His deep chuckle vibrates across my back. “Is that all?”
“And your...” I grind my hips against his erection. “More substantial
attributes. It would be a shame to lose something so fulfilling.”
“Charming,” he says with a huff. “Here I am complimenting your
brilliant mind and you can only compliment my cock.”
I laugh so hard that my chest hurts, and my eyes fill with tears. Bard
turns me around, peppers my face with kisses, and tickles my ribs until I
cackle.
His fingers send bolts of sensation through my chest, making me jerk
and spasm at his command. I’m so pliant and weak that I can’t fight him off
when he rolls me onto my back and pins me beneath him on the mattress.
Then his growing erection presses into my belly, sending a thrill down my
spine.
“S-stop,” I say between breathless giggles. “I can’t—“
Bard silences me with a kiss so deep that my toes curl. Melting against
his larger body, I moan as his tongue caresses mine with delicious strokes.
My clit swells and my pussy clenches, needing more.
“You like my cock?” he asks, his voice breathy.
“I love it,” I murmur. “But it’s not even your best feature.”
He draws back, his eyes dark. “Oh, yeah?”
My lips curve into a smile. “I don’t want to give you a big head.”
“Too late.”
“Your heart.” I give him a peck on the lips. “It’s even bigger than that
monstrous cock.”
Bard’s laughter makes all the butterflies in my stomach take flight. If I
can distract him from a crushing betrayal then I hope he’ll see that I’m
worth keeping.
“Just for that, I’m going to let you play a little game,” he says with a
growl.
“Hide and seek?” I murmur against his lips.
 He draws back and gives me a grin sharp enough to slit throats. “I’m
going to give you a head start and you’re going to run.”
“What do I get if I escape?”
“You won’t.”
“And if you catch me?”
“Then I’ll fuck you hard and fast against the wall with this monster
cock.”

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 Chapter Sixteen

B ard rolls off me and sits back on the mattress, letting me scramble up
onto my hands and knees. I’m still out of breath from his merciless tickling
and my pussy still throbs from the kiss.
“Ten,” he says.
My eyes widen. “Wait. You can’t start the countdown. What are the
rules?”
“No rules. Just run. Nine.”
“Shit!” I leap off the bed, anticipation whacking me in the clit. Bard
isn’t playing fair, but I’m not complaining. Without giving him a second
glance, I tumble through the bed’s canopy and sprint across the room.
“Eight.”
My heart makes a triple backflip.
Fuck.
I step into the living area, my gaze switching from left to right. Sunlight
streams in through a wall of windows that overlook a balcony longer than
my entire house containing teak furniture and a hot tub. The front door
stands straight ahead, but I can’t run naked through the public hallways.
Darting toward the balcony, I aim for the door. Bard has gone
suspiciously quiet but I continue my frantic pace. My fingers close around
the door handle, and I push it open to find it unlocked.
 Success.
I glance over my shoulder for signs of Bard, but the door to the
bedroom is still shut. This challenge is about to turn into a game of hide and
seek, not catch. With as much stealth as I can muster, I step out into the
balcony and ease the door closed.
Mirabilis Mansions looks like it’s set within acres of manicured gardens
with tall hedges along its outskirts. They may as well be fortress walls. A
gate in the distance opens, and a quartet of armed men steps out, clad in
thick armor. My lips part with a gasp. If I didn’t know any better, I would
say this establishment is a beautiful prison.
A noise from deep inside the apartment makes my heart skip. I drop to
my hands and knees and crawl alongside the wall. Up ahead is a wooden
hot tub tall enough to have its own entrance steps.
“Brianna?” Bard shouts from inside.
I stifle a giggle and crawl toward the hot tub. As if I’d fall for that cheap
trick.
His footsteps thunder past the balcony door, and I hear him sprint to the
other end of the apartment. I continue crawling past a wooden table with
two chairs, but freeze when another door behind me creaks open.
“What a beautiful sight,” says a deep voice. “You on your hands and
knees, displaying that pretty wet pussy.”
I glance over my shoulder to find Bard looming over me, stroking that
huge, thick cock.
The morning sun highlights the contours of his muscles, making him
look like a Celtic god. My breath catches and I lower myself onto my ass.
“No,” he growls. “I want you with your ass in the air. Spread your legs,
Brianna. Let me see that dripping cunt.”
My pulse quickens as I push myself up and kneel with my thighs parted.
Tingly heat spreads across my skin and settles between my legs. I’ve never
felt so exposed before or so appreciated. Bard has this way of making
everything seem so erotic.
“Good girl,” he says, stroking his cock. “I planned on hunting you
through the apartment, but now I think I’ll fuck you just the way you are.”
I bite down on my bottom lip to stifle a moan.
He walks to the table, takes a cushion off the chair, and tosses it to my
side. “Lay your head on that and show me exactly how much you want my
cock.”
With a shaky breath, I place the cushion on the floor in front of me and
reposition myself so my ass is higher than my head. Bard lets out a groan,
which hits me straight in the libido, and fluid trickles down my inner thighs.
My cheeks burn as I slip my fingers through my wet folds and spread my
pussy open.
“I’ve never been this hard in my entire life,” he says, his voice breathy.
My clit swells with his words, and the pulse behind it pounds so hard
that my eardrums ache. “Bard,” I whisper. “Please.”
Hr kneels behind me, his head so close to my exposed ass and pussy
that I shiver under the warmth of his breath. “Please, what, Brianna?” he
murmurs. “Tell me what you need.”
Shallow breaths whistle through my parted lips and spots dance on the
edge of my vision. I don’t know how I managed to get so dizzy with my
head lying on the floor but I have to blink away the lust to form an answer.
“Make me cum,” I whisper.
“Louder,” he growls. “I want to hear how much you want it.”
Sweat breaks out across my skin, partially because of the morning sun
but mostly due to Bard’s imposing presence. I can’t believe I’m crouched
on the floor, begging Connor’s dad for sex.
An ache forms deep in my core, urging me to push my pride aside and
give him exactly what he wants. I take a deep breath and raise my voice.
“Fuck me, Bard,” I say, my words strained. “Please, suck my clit then fuck
me with that huge cock until I cum.”
“Good girl.”
Bard spreads my cheeks and his hot tongue skims over my asshole.
My stomach drops, and the muscles of my sphincter clench tighter than
a fist. “Wait. What—“
“It’s alright,” he says with a deep chuckle. “I’m only going to use a
finger.”
“Promise?” I whisper.
He kisses me straight on the pucker. “On a gangster’s honor.”
Exhaling my relief in an outward breath, I relax on the floor. Nothing,
not even a toy like the stretcher, could prepare my ass for Bard’s erection.
He licks a tight circle over my anus, setting all the nerves there alight. I
whimper, my clit throbbing with need.
“You’ll tell me if it’s too much,” he says.
“A-alright,” I whisper.
He lavishes my pucker with firm strokes and then slips his tongue
inside. A bolt of pleasure hits me straight in the pussy, and I suck in a sharp
breath through my teeth.
Bard rubs a gentle circle on my asscheek. “It’s alright,” he says, the
words garbled. “You’re safe with me.”
I can’t answer because every synapse in my brain is misfiring. No one
has ever so much as grazed my asshole, let alone fucked it with their
tongue. It’s a pleasure unlike anything I’ve ever experienced, and I want
more.
Arching my hips, I part my thighs, trying to deepen the penetration, but
Bard pulls back and blows over my pucker. Cool air replaces the heat of his
tongue, making my skin tingle.
“Oh fuck.” I whisper the words over and over until they blur into
panting breaths. My hips jerk, wanting more. Needing it.
 “Be patient,” Bard says. “We haven’t even begun.”
He dips a finger in my pussy, making the muscles there clamp around
his digit. Instead of pumping in and out of me, he pulls out.
“Bard,” I say, my voice broken.
“It’s alright,” he replies and slips the wet finger into my asshole. “I’ll
take good care of you.”
Sensation explodes through my insides, making me cry out.
“That’s my girl,” he says with a hint of pride. “Feels good, doesn’t it?”
“Yes.” I buck my hips, desperate for more friction, and Bard doesn’t
disappoint. As he slides the thick digit in and out of my asshole, he leans
between my legs and swipes my clit with his tongue.
It’s like being struck by lightning, only getting consumed by pleasure
instead of burned. Two of his thick fingers slide into my pussy, and I clench
around them. After stretching me open and exploring, he presses down on a
spot inside me that makes me hiss through my teeth.
“Grip my fingers.”
I do as he says, trying to trap the thick digits as they twist inside me and
work against my muscles. Each time he grazes that spot, it feels like being
plugged into a pleasure socket. Throughout this, his tongue works my clit
with firm strokes, matching its movements with the finger in my ass.
Ecstasy crackles across my nerves, surging in intensity until something
snaps. An orgasm tears through my body in a flash, coating his finger with
my juices.
Bard’s tongue lashes at my clit, making my body jerk with currents of
white-hot energy. I scream, my spine twisting, and my legs trembling as the
climax intensifies. Shudders wrack my body, and pleasure engulfs my soul.
I can’t tell if I’m burning up or drowning, but I never want this feeling to
end.
After what feels like an eternity, Bard’s tongue slows to a gentle caress,
and the feelings subside into a restful bliss. I slump down on the floor,
panting, exhausted, and spent.
“You did so well, sweetheart,” he says.
“Oh, fuck,” I say through ragged breaths. “That was amazing.”
“Good, because you’re going to give me one more.”

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 Chapter Seventeen

I ’m still lying on the floor, a boneless, post-coital heap. Bard’s large

hands rub circles between my shoulder blades as though trying to coax me
back to life. My pussy still throbs with delicious aftershocks, but there’s no
way I can muster up the energy for another orgasm.
“One more what?” I slur.
“Another orgasm,” Bard says as though the answer is obvious.
I groan, trying to will away a head full of fog. “Can’t I just suck you
off?”
His strong arms wrap around my waist, and he hoists me up, so I’m
sitting on his lap with his thick erection nestled between my asscheeks. My
anus clenches, somehow feeling ready for another challenge, but I shove
that traitor to the back of my mind.
“There’s something you’re not understanding,” he says into my ear.
“What?” I whisper.
“When I cum, it won’t be down your throat.”
I gulp, and the muscles around my pussy tighten in unison. “What do
you mean?”
“I plan on pumping you so full of my cum that your legs buckle,” he
says, his hot breath fanning across my skin. “After that, I won’t stop
fucking your tight pussy until you’re pregnant.”
 Pregnant?
Butterflies rise from the lining of my stomach and flutter around my
heart, along with memories from last night. We fucked without a condom,
and I missed taking my pill.
My gaze darts toward the sky, and my mind makes rapid-fire
calculations. By the angle of the sun, the time has to be between ten and
eleven o’clock in the morning. I should have taken the contraceptive
sometime before dawn. My breath turns shallow. I could be fertile.
“Ready, sweetheart?” he asks.
“Are you sure about this?” I blurt. “I could take my pill–“
“No pill,” he growls. “We discussed that last night.”
“But I thought it was just a fantasy. Like how some guys have a
breeding kink,” I say with a gasp.
Bard growls in my ear. “I have a breeding kink alright, but it’s only you
that I want to get pregnant.”
My pussy clenches and my eyes squeeze shut. Fuck. Why does that
sound so hot when I’m usually so sensible? I want a baby more than
anything, but at the right time and with the right man. Bard could be that
man for me, but only if he intends to stick around to help me raise a child.
“I don’t want to end up a single mother,” I whisper.
Bard wraps his arm around my waist. “I told you, Brianna, I’m never
letting you go.”
“You say that now, but—“
“You’re mine,” he snarls. “You and the baby I plan on putting inside
you.”
Heat floods my core and my pussy throbs with need. I don’t know why
my body finds his words so arousing because pregnancy under these
circumstances is so irresponsible.
Bard likes me well enough right now, but it took a whole makeover to
turn me into the woman who sashayed into the Dagda’s table. I’m not her.
I’m not nearly as glamorous as his wife.
“But you don’t even know me,” I say.
“Do you think I would let you into my house without a background
check?” he asks.
I turn to meet his blue eyes. “Huh?”
“I know everything about you, although I didn’t research your father’s
debts. If I knew things would end this way with Connor, I would have taken
you for myself.”
“Oh.” I exhale a shaky breath.
He more than hinted at being interested last night, but his emotions were
high. My trust issues are so warped that it takes hearing something at least
three different ways and a boatload of observation to believe it’s the truth.
“Does that bother you?” he asks.
I shake my head. “It makes a strange sort of sense.”
“You’re perfect.” He kisses me on the cheek. “No man in his right mind
would pass up a chance to be with you.”
His words fill a part of my heart that’s always felt hollow. The one that
every man in my life left unfulfilled because they were too busy chasing
something else instead of loving me. I tilt my head backward, letting him
trail a path of kisses down my neck. Bard doesn’t need poetry when he
speaks straight from the heart.
“So, Brianna,” he rasps. “Are you going to be a good girl and let Daddy
fuck a baby into you or will I have to spend more time convincing you?”
My eyes widen. “That’s not exactly a choice!”
He cups my breasts, his fingers and thumb rolling my nipples. “You
became mine the moment you came under my protection. It’s only a matter
of time before I get you pregnant.”
Common sense tells me to slow down, but I’m too far gone to care.
Bard is handsome, rich, powerful, generous, and kind. He’s also respectful
when he’s not in this strange mood, and one fuck isn’t going to ruin my life.
It’s not like he plans on holding me in this apartment until I give birth.
“You mean what you said about keeping me?” I say.
“Every word.” He runs his tongue along the shell of my ear, infusing
my skin with delicious tingles. “You belong to me, with or without the
baby.”
“Alright, then.”
“Alright, what?”
“Fuck me, Bard,” I say. “Fill me with your cum.”
“Get up.” He grips my arm and helps me to my feet.
I stand, but my legs are so wobbly from that last orgasm that he has to
hold me steady. With a strong arm around my back, he walks me to the hot
tub.
“Grab onto the edge and place one foot on the step,” he says.
“Like this?” I put myself into position.
He takes hold of my raised leg and moves it further apart. “Good girl.”
A light breeze meanders over my exposed pussy, making it tingle. Once
again, I feel so exposed, but Bard’s appreciative groan chases away my
nerves. My core spasms, releasing a trail of moisture. Bard scoops it up
with a finger and places it in his mouth.
“You taste so good,” he says with a groan. “I want to eat that sweet cunt
all over again but we have a busy afternoon.”
“What are we doing?” I turn to meet his lust-filled eyes.
He lines his cock up to my entrance. “This.”
With one sharp thrust, he enters me to the hilt. The sensation of being
full is so intense that I rise on my tiptoes and clasp the edge of the hot tub
for dear life.
“Oh.” I let out a breathy moan. “Too big.”
“Shh. You can take it.” He pulls out with a tantalizingly slow stroke
then pushes back in.
 He thrusts into me with deep, even strokes, building up a rhythm that
has me mesmerized. Pleasure courses through my core, rippling through my
limbs until the leg I’m standing on trembles.
I clutch the edge of the hot tub, my gaze fixed on the water. Our
reflections are intoxicating. Bard’s eyes are darker than ever and are locked
on mine as he slides in and out of my pussy. His hair is tousled and his jaw
is clenched. I’m pale in comparison, my skin glowing in the sunlight. The
waves from yesterday’s makeover are still intact, but my cheeks are flushed
and my lips are obscenely full.
We look so erotic together, so perfect. It’s hard to believe that I’m the
one Bard is claiming.
“You’re so fucking hot.” Bard rolls his hips and thrusts in deep, his cock
brushing against a spot deep inside that makes me feral.
A low moan escapes my lips. I cling to the edge of the tub, not wanting
to melt into the warm water.
Bard continues fucking me like this, creating an incredible friction that
has me on the verge of imploding. Pressure builds low in my belly, drawing
out loud cries.
“You’re such a good girl,” Bard says. “So beautiful and tight. I wish I
could stay here, fucking you all day.”
“Don’t stop,” I groan. “Please, don’t stop.”
“I want you to cum around my cock,” he says.
“I can’t just climax on demand.”
“You can and you will.” He reaches between my legs and works my clit
with his fingers until my pussy spasms around his shaft so tightly that he
groans.
“Fuck. I can’t hold back for much longer. Cum, Brianna. Now!”
Pleasure builds deep within my core. My clit swells under his touch and
my walls flutter around his shaft. He plunges in and out, his thrusts getting
more and more out of sync. I throw back my head, my entire body
trembling around his.
Bard’s fingers twist and pinch my clit as though it’s the secret
combination to my orgasm. His cock hits my G-spot like a battering ram
until I burst open and release a long, low moan.
“Oh, God,” I scream. “Oh. My. God.”
“Close,” he rasps. “But I’m about to make you speak in tongues.”
I clench around him, milking his shaft with each wave of pleasure that
tears through my core. Bard swells inside me before he climaxes with a roar
and fills my pussy with jets of hot cum.
“Fuck.” He lays his head on my shoulder, his arms firmly around my
waist. “You were incredible.”
“So were you,” I say.
One of Bard’s hands reaches down to cup my belly. “I meant every
word.”
“Hmm?”
“I want to wake up next to you for the rest of my life.” He rubs gentle
circles over my skin. “I’m serious about you having my baby.”

OceanofPDF.com
 Chapter Eighteen

I slump against the hot tub, completely boneless, with Bard’s words
ringing in my ears. He means every word when he says he both wants me
and wants me to have his baby.
Spots weave across my vision, and I blink them away. As much as I
want Bard, I’ve experienced far too much disappointment to take anything
anyone says at face value.
His body is a heavy weight against my back, yet it’s the only thing
keeping me from crumpling to the floor. That, and the huge cock wedged in
my pussy and showing no sign of softening.
It pulses and throbs, making my inner walls clamp around him. Bard
shifts his hips, driving himself deeper until I’m certain he’s aiming for the
back of my throat.
A groan slips from my lips. “Please, don’t tell me you’re ready for
another round.”
“You have that effect on me.” He nips at my neck, filling my skin with
sparks of pleasure.
“Fuck,” I moan. “Don’t guys your age have refractory periods?”
His deep, rich laughter reverberates against my back, infusing me with a
giddy sense of warmth. “I’m only thirty-nine.”
 Ah. Bard had mentioned last night that Connor had been conceived
during a one-night stand that he couldn’t even remember. Perhaps that
explains why my ex thought it was a good idea to betray his parent. I can’t
imagine stabbing Dad in the back, even though he’s been an endless source
of disappointment.
My stomach rumbles, and Bard stills. “Hungry?”
I rub my belly. “Sex has a way of burning calories.”
He holds onto my hips with a reluctant groan. “As much as I want to
stay inside your sweet pussy, I also need to get you fed.”
My muscles tighten around his erection as though wanting to keep him
inside me forever. I bow my head, wondering how one part of me can be so
focussed while the rest of my mind is in turmoil.
Bard’s cockhead stretches as it exits, leaving me feeling empty. He
grabs my raised leg and places it gently on the floor.
“Can you walk?” he asks, his voice light with amusement.
“I think so.” Turning around, I take my first step, but the leg I was
standing on buckles.
Bard catches me before I fall and scoops me into his arms. “Looks like
I’ve worn you out. I’ll be more careful with you in the future.”
Future.
My heart skips, and I swallow hard, trying to look anywhere but his
twinkling, blue eyes.
He’s saying all the right things, acting like the perfect gentleman, and
constructing a fantasy that sounds too good to be true. I can’t tell the
difference between someone who’s talking from the heart and someone
who’s love bombing.
A faint rumble drifts in the air, and my gaze wanders across the sun-
drenched garden, where a man driving a tractor-looking vehicle is mowing
the lawn. Grass clippings fly into the air, forming clouds of green mist that
disappear back into the ground.
 It reminds me of our current situation—wonderful, magical, fleeting.
Bard carries me toward the balcony doors, pulling my view away from
the tractor. “Are you alright?”
“Yeah,” I say with a sigh.
He smooths down my hair and tucks a lock behind my ear. “That didn’t
sound like an enthusiastic yes. Are you hurt?”
I shake my head.
Bard carries me through the living area, deposits me on a loveseat, and
kneels at my feet, so I’m forced to look down into his face.
“Something’s wrong.”
My lips tighten. Can’t he be oblivious like everyone else? Why does he
need to peel away my layers and demand to know what I’m feeling?
“Is it something I did?” He holds my gaze, searching my eyes for
answers.
“You can’t be serious about getting me pregnant,” I say.
He takes my hand and caresses my knuckles with his thumb. “If that’s
what you’re worried about, I can send one of my men out for emergency
contraception—“
“It’s not that,” I blurt.
“Brianna.”
There’s a sharpness to his voice that cuts through my hesitation, making
me want to spill my secrets. Bard sounds like a man used to getting answers
at any cost.
“Why do you want a child right now and why with me? Is this some
kind of twisted revenge?”
“What do you mean,” he asks.
“Don’t you think it’s ironic that Connor’s ex-girlfriend gets to make his
replacement?”
Bard’s features tighten. It’s the barest of expressions, but I notice the
shift from concern to something darker.
 “This is not an attempt to hurt Connor. What I have planned for him will
be far worse than losing his girlfriend,” he says.
I resist the urge to ask because I no longer give a shit about my ex. His
cheating helped me dodge several bullets.
“Then why do you want a baby?” I ask.
“I never knew what it was like to be a father until Connor turned up at
my door, claiming to be my son,” he replies with a grimace. “As I came to
terms with it, I realized there were so many things I’d missed.”
“Like what?”
“I wasn’t there when his mother was pregnant. Never saw the
ultrasound or his birth or held him as a baby. I never heard his first word or
saw his first step. There are so many moments I can never get back.”
My breath catches, and I swallow, urging him to continue.
“I made so many mistakes with Connor that no amount of money or
power can fix. Despite us having the same DNA, nothing can erase the fact
that he’s a stranger.”
Connor is an enemy, but I’m not about to add to Bard’s pain by
reminding him of the obvious.
“Oh,” I whisper.
“And you ask why you?”
I nod.
“I want to make it right this time,” he says. “With a woman who won’t
just be the mother of my child. I can see myself loving you for the rest of
my life.”
My lungs tighten, feeling like they’re squeezing the life out of my heart.
Even the backs of my eyes prickle with the onset of tears.
This doesn’t sound like bullshit. Bard is speaking from the heart.
“You decided all this in the space of twenty-four hours?” I squeak.
“I’d been thinking about you for a while but that ended when I had to
marry Lyra. There was no way I would bring a child into a loveless union.”
 Nodding, I lean forward and press my forehead against his. “That makes
a strange sort of sense. In a way, their betrayal is giving you a fresh start.”
“And a chance of real happiness.” Bard brings my hand to his lips and
kisses each knuckle. “I’m coming on strong and I sound unhinged, but
whether it takes me a week or a year, you will be mine.”
My heart races, and I can’t help but smile at the idea that he’s prepared
to wait.
Another rumble tears through my insides, making me clutch my
stomach.
Bard laughs and rises to his feet. “It’s time to feed the baby.”
I sputter out a laugh. “But I’m not pregnant.”
“Not yet.”
He strides to the kitchen area, an open-plan space off the living room
adorned with white cupboards, granite worktops, and stainless steel
appliances. I can’t even linger on how much nicer it is than what we have at
home because my gaze is fixed on his broad shoulders.
Sunlight streams in from the windows opposite, accentuating the ripple
of his muscles. His back is V-shaped, tapering to a trim waist, and an ass
that looks like it was sculpted from marble.
I shake my head from side to side, trying to take my attention off his
powerful legs, and not quite believing my luck. It makes sense that Bard
would want a fresh start with a son he could mold to be a better man. He
never had that chance with Connor.
Connor always talked as though he’d been with Bard forever but he
sometimes acted like he didn’t grow up with extreme wealth. He was
always so keen to expand the fight club and seemed obsessed with
extracting every penny from the enterprise. At the time, I thought Connor
was trying to make a name for himself. Now, I realize he was hungry for
money.
“Scrambled, poached, or fried?” Bard asks.
 My head snaps up. “Huh?”
“How do you like your eggs?” He stands at the stove with an apron
around his front, which only accentuates his perfect physique.
“Um... How do you like yours?”
Bard turns around and flashes me a grin. “Fertilized.”
I groan, my pussy clenching at the realization that this breakfast is
merely a pit stop in his mission to get me pregnant.

OceanofPDF.com
 Chapter Nineteen

H ours later, I lie back in the hot tub, my pussy throbbing from another
round of sex. Long shadows stretch across the garden as the sun
heads toward the horizon.
My belly is still stuffed from a brunch of Dearg’s Irish Toast—a version
of French toast made with Baileys and soda bread, scrambled eggs,
sausages, bacon, baked beans, mushrooms, and grilled tomatoes.
I wanted to help with the food prep, but the only thing Bard let me do
was set the table and pour the orange juice. He even took control of the tea
and coffee.
The water shifts as Bard climbs in with a glass of iced tea. He sits
beside me and brings it to my lips. Cool, sweet liquid floods my tongue and
slides down my throat. Closing my eyes, I savor the taste and sigh.
“Better?” Bard asks.
I crack open an eye to find his lips hovering close to mine.
“Time out.” I give him a playful push on the shoulder. “My pussy needs
a vacation.”
His lips part, but I speak before he can make another suggestion. “And
my ass doesn’t need any more stretching, either.”
Bard huffs a laugh. “I’ll just have to find another way to give you
pleasure.”
 I take another sip of the iced tea and hide a smile. “You’ve already done
more than enough.”
“Imogen is on her way.”
My jaw drops. “From the boutique?”
He nods.
“Why?”
“As much as I enjoy seeing you naked, you need something to wear
other than hospital scrubs and that pretty little dress.”
“I suppose,” I say, my voice breathy. “How do you know her?”
He frowns. “Imogen?”
My stomach flutters with nerves. Bard spent his entire adult life
unmarried, and I can’t believe a man as handsome and powerful as him
wouldn’t have multiple women. He’s just about generous enough to set
Imogen up with her own exclusive boutique.
“She’s my niece.”
“Really?” I ask with a frown.
“Do you remember the gray-haired man who sat beside my father?”
I shake my head. All I remember was Angus, the nice man in burgundy
who cleared space for us, and the one-eyed giant who wanted to use me as
bait. And nobody could forget Declan Dagda.
“Vaguely,” I murmur.
“That’s my oldest brother, Ed. Imogen is his youngest daughter.”
The tightness in my chest melts, giving way to curiosity. “Are you close
to your family?”
“Yes and no,” he says with a frown. “I didn’t grow up with any of my
brothers, as we all have different mothers. The ones closest to me in age are
more like best friends.”
“Any sisters?”
He shakes his head. “Did you ever want siblings?”
“Sometimes I wished I had a big brother to chase away my dad.”
 Bard’s features harden. “Was he violent?”
“No.” I raise a palm.
“Dad never raised a hand to either of us,” I blurt. “He never stayed long
enough to show any other side of his personality except the part that always
groveled for money or a place to stay. Then he’d get bored of us and leave.”
“That’s just as bad,” he growls.
“What was it like having a dad like the Dagda?”
“Like going to church on a Sunday.” Bard smiles, making the corners of
his eyes crinkle.
“I don’t get it.”
“My mother used to dress me in my best clothes every Friday night
before the car would pick me up to visit my father. The whole lot of us
would sit around the table with him at its head, asking how we did at
school.”
“Wait—like at the restaurant?”
He nods. “It’s been like that ever since I could hold a knife and fork.”
“So all those men around the table...” My voice trails off because I can’t
believe Declan Dagda would make sons with different women just so he
would have an army of loyal lieutenants.
“They’re my brothers.”
“Shit.”
“You see why I want a loving family?” He takes away my glass and sets
it to the side.
I gaze up into his earnest features, my eyes wide. Nothing he’s told me
is bullshit. With a father like the Dagda and a son like Connor, it makes
perfect sense why he would yearn for something different. The truth is, so
do I.
“Yeah,” I murmur, my throat tight.
“I want a wife and a child. Maybe two or three if that’s possible, but I
want a small family to love and nurture,” he says, his face softening.
“There’s nobody I want to do that with more than you.”
My chest swells, and my heart thrashes in my ribcage like it’s trying to
break free. I wrap my arms around Bard’s neck and sigh as his arms
encircle my waist. He pulls me onto his lap and brushes his lips against
mine.
“Will you be my family?” he rasps.
The answer is yes. A thousand times, yes. Before I can reply, a knock
sounds from further into the apartment, making us both jolt.
“That’ll be Imogen.”
Bard pecks me on the lips and rises from the tub with water cascading
down his muscular torso. Sunlight glints on the droplets, making him look
like he’s been dipped in gold. He wraps a towel around his hips and hands
me a robe.
“Take your time and get dry.” He leans over and kisses my forehead.
“I’ll tell her you’ll be right out.”
I slink back into the water and watch him disappear through the patio
door, still processing what he revealed. His family life is even crazier than
mine, but at least I understand what he needs.
A long, shaky breath escapes my lungs. Bard could fill the hollow in my
heart. There’s no denying our connection, but I can’t help fretting that
something might go wrong. My luck with men isn’t exactly great, and girls
accustomed to loser men don’t usually attract princes.
Something’s going to go wrong to ruin my happiness, and I think it will
happen on Bard’s birthday.
There are too many uncontrollable variables. We don’t know if Connor
will change his mind about using the poison and just shoot his father
through the head. Or maybe Lyra will get to Bard first. No amount of
activated charcoal can save a man from a dagger in his heart. Shit. What if
they plant an explosive in the limo?
 Thoughts race around my mind like an out-of-control carousel, hurtling
from one terrible possibility to another. I can’t let Connor and Lyra derail
my future with Bard.
“Brianna?” Bard’s voice cuts through my worries.
I glance up to find him standing in the doorway wearing a huge white
robe, his brows pinched with concern.
Forcing in a deep breath, I pull my lips into a smile. “Coming. I just got
lost in my thoughts.”
I rise from the tub and slip on the robe, my muscles tightening with
determination. Bard’s assassination must fail, even if I have to murder
Connor myself.

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 Chapter Twenty

T he rest of the week vanishes in the blink of an eye, and Bard kisses
me awake on Friday morning. I’m lying on my side and squinting into the
light. The morning sun streams in through the window and filters through
the canopy surrounding our bed.
He’s spooned at my back, his thick cock nestled between my ass cheeks.
I tilt my hips and adjust our position so he can enter me from behind.
I’m still drowsy and relaxed from sleep, and even though we’ve fucked
non-stop the entire week, it’s still an incredible stretch.
“Fuck,” I say through panting breaths. “That feels amazing.”
Bard lifts my hips a little so he can thrust deeper. I arch my back and
release a moan. He roams my belly with one palm, cups my breast with the
other, and rolls my nipples until I clench around his cock.
“I want to fuck you every day like this for the rest of my life,” he
murmurs.
“M-me too.”
I reach back for him. He interlaces our fingers and brings my hand to
his lips. He kisses each knuckle with every thrust until my body quivers
with pleasure.
His pace quickens, and pressure builds deep in my core. He slips his
other hand between my legs and circles my clit until my eyes roll to the
back of my head.
“That’s it, sweetheart,” he murmurs into my ear. “I want you to cum all
over my cock.”
Pleasure builds, and I arch my back. Bard slams into me again and
again, his huge cock hitting a spot that fills my vision with fireworks.
“Brianna,” he growls. “Now.”
A powerful climax splinters me into a million pieces. I cry out, my
pussy spasming around his huge cock. Bard’s strokes become erratic, his
body trembling with his release.
We collapse against each other, panting and spent, with Bard breathing
hard into my neck.
“I can’t believe it’s time to leave this place already,” I say with a moan.
He turns me around, and I snuggle into his broad chest and try to push
away the rest of the world, but it’s impossible. There’s a whole list of things
to do before Bard’s birthday assassination, including fitting him with a
bulletproof kevlar vest, feeding him as much activated charcoal as his
digestive system can handle, and arranging a triage van, complete with a
nurse and a no-questions-asked surgeon.
He kisses the top of my head. “This has been looming over us all week.
It’s almost a relief that it’s nearly time.”
“No, it’s not,” I mutter.
His chest rises and falls with a sigh.
“Stay here until tomorrow morning,” Bard says, his arm tightening
around my shoulder. “I don’t want you at the party in case it turns into a
shoot-out.”
I shake my head. “Connor’s suspicious enough of me already. I have to
be there.”
“Brianna,” he growls.
“Don’t you think Lyra might call off the hit if she suspects I’ve told you
their plan?”
 Bard jerks his head to the side and exhales a sharp breath. He knows
I’m right. It’s suspicious enough that I disappeared for an entire week but
excusable. I did, after all, catch Connor cheating. If I refuse to return on the
day Connor is supposed to make my dreams come true, Lyra might not
show her hand.
“I’m sorry you got tangled in this mess,” Bard murmurs.
“Don’t be,” I reply. “It’s brought us together. My presence at the party
might make the difference between Lyra showing her hand and you being
stuck in a marriage with a woman who wants you dead.”
“Fucking alliance,” he growls.
I nod.
Lyra doesn’t deserve a husband like Bard. She should have ended up
with the Dagda or at least that one-eyed giant.
“I’m going, whether you like it or not. Someone’s got to keep an eye on
Connor. It would look dodgy if any of your brothers got too close.”
Bard pulls me into his chest and wraps his arms around my shoulders so
tightly that my breath goes shallow. We’re so close to putting an end to his
arranged marriage but I wish this birthday party didn’t have to be so risky.
There’s a slither of doubt somewhere deep in my consciousness that
Bard will change his mind, even if we come out of this unscathed.
Once Bard finally uncovers Lyra as a traitor and deals with Connor,
nothing is stopping him from wanting a fresh start. A fresh start without ties
to his son, including his ex.
I squeeze my eyes shut and inhale his whiskey and sandalwood scent.
Knowing the outcome won’t change anything. Helping Bard is simply the
right thing to do.
He releases me, draws back, and cups my cheeks in his large hands.
“Thank you.”
“What for?” I gaze into his shimmering blue eyes.
“I enjoyed taking care of you. It’s been the best part of this week.”
 My heart flutters on wings as gauzy as the curtains surrounding the
canopy bed. I inhale, trying to shove down a burst of emotion.
“I...” A lump forms in my throat.
Bard speaks again before I can even muster up what to say. “If anything
happens to me—”
“Don’t talk like that,” I say.
“Brianna,” he growls. “Hear me out.”
“Alright,” I whisper.
“If anything should happen to me, my brothers are under orders to keep
you safe.”
I gulp.
“The one you sat next to at dinner said he would give you a place to
stay until you’re back on your feet.”
“Angus?”
He nods. “Lugh mentioned something about wanting to watch your
back.”
“Isn’t that the one who said you should send me back as bait?” I mutter.
Bard laughs. “He’s rough around the edges, but he’s loyal.”
“Alright,” I mutter, “But we’re both going to get through this.”
“Of course,” he says.
“And I had a great time with you, too,” I murmur.
The words don’t even begin to convey the depth of how I feel. Or of
how much I’ll miss Bard if anything goes wrong. I could stay in this happy
bubble forever with him but we have enemies to slay.

I walk through the ticket barrier at the train station to find Connor standing
at the other side, holding a bouquet of red roses. He’s dressed in a black suit
with a black shirt and matching tie, which is a contrast to his usual leather
jacket and jeans.
My steps falter, and I adjust the black dress Bard bought me from
Imogen. It was one of the few items she’d brought that wasn’t overly
revealing and although well made, it could look like something within my
price range.
Connor’s fancy clothes hang awkwardly on his slender frame, making
him look like a boy dressed in his father’s outfit, but there’s nothing
innocent about this parasite.
According to my contact at the pharmacy, Connor purchased 5mg of
Fentanyl, an odorless, colorless drug that’s a hundred times more potent
than morphine. It’s twice the amount he needs to poison a man Bard’s size,
and I’m not sure if the second dose is for me.
Connor’s gaze locks on mine, and his posture straightens. My jaw
clenches, and I force my features into a mask of calm. I’m glad Bard
insisted on driving me to catch a train because now, I’ve made Connor late
for the birthday party. There’s no time for him to murder us both.
As he strides toward me with his eyes twinkling, the back of my throat
burns with bitter rancor. Bard has offered Connor nothing but kindness.
How could he plot against his own father?
“Brianna,” he says with a gush of remorse. “I’m so sorry you saw that.”
I stare down at the flowers, my lips tightening. The only reason I’m here
is to keep an eye on Connor and make sure he doesn’t stray from his plan.
Our preparations won’t save Bard if Connor decides to murder him with
something other than poison.
“Nice roses,” I mutter.
“Swear on my life. From now on, it’s only going to be me and you.”
Connor wraps an arm around my shoulders and walks me through the busy
concourse.
 I refuse his offers of fast food and coffee, telling him we can eat at the
party.
“You caused me a lot of trouble,” Connor murmurs, his hand snaking
toward the back of my neck.
“What do you mean?”
“We had to improvise without a medic last week. I didn’t know if you’d
return in time for tomorrow’s fight night.” He grips me by the nape, making
my skin tighten.
The air changes as we step out of the station and into a busy street filled
with heavy traffic. Connor pauses by a newspaper stand and leans in, trying
to give me a kiss.
Anger surges through my veins. I pull away from his hold and curl my
fists. “That’s all I ever was to you? Your fight club’s medic?”
His face falls into a mask of remorse so convincing that I almost doubt
myself. “Don’t be like that,” he says. “I see you as my partner in life. The
woman who’s going to be my wife.”
My eyes squeeze shut. I can’t look at this lying sack of shit.
Nothing about our relationship was ever real. He only wanted me
because his father saw me first. He only invited me to those family dinners
to flaunt what Bard couldn’t have.
“Brianna.” He clamps a hand on my shoulder. “I don’t know what came
over me the other day. I fucked up. I really did, but I swear on my life to
make things right at the party. By the end of tonight, I’ll have control of the
house, the business, and the money.”
Nausea churns in my stomach. Connor is a younger, twisted, murderous
version of Dad. The only difference is that Dad’s harebrained schemes
aren’t quite so deadly.
How couldn’t I see this earlier?
Connor pulls me into a tight hug and kisses the top of my head. “Trust
me,” he whispers. “I won’t let you down.”
 I hug him back, and a gun presses into my chest. Dread kicks me in the
solar plexus, making me bite back a groan. All this time, I was thinking he
would only use poison. What if he decides to use a pistol and Bard ends up
dead?

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 Chapter Twenty-One

T he drive to Bard’s house is mercifully short, with Connor feeling

comfortable enough to reveal that Lyra plans on putting the Fentanyl in
Bard’s champagne glass. I sit beside him in the front passenger seat with the
huge bunch of roses on my lap and send Bard a text message with a single
sentence.
When we reach the grounds by sunset, they’re already filled with cars.
Connor finds a parking spot close to the gates, and we stride down the
driveway.
“Was that a gun I felt earlier?” I ask.
Connor’s features harden, and he glances toward a parked limousine.
“Don’t go around the party, mentioning guns, alright?”
“Well, was it?” I whisper.
He gives me a tight nod.
“Why?”
“Back up.” He squares his shoulders.
“But you told me your plan was foolproof,” I say.
“It is,” he snarls through clenched teeth.
I should stop pushing, but I need to gather as much information as I can
before we reach the house. Even if I can’t pass it on to Bard, I can share
what I’ve learned with one of his guards.
 “Please tell me Lyra brought some of her people in case anything goes
wrong,” I say.
“She’s working alone.”
“What?”
“The Greeks don’t want to start a war with the Dagda, so they sacrificed
her to my dad,” he says through clenched teeth. “Can you imagine being
forced to shag a stranger?”
We reach the door, where we find Liam and another guard I recognize.
Neither of them acknowledges me, but they step aside to let us inside.
My heart pounds so hard that I have to place a hand over my chest.
Connor places a trembling hand on the small of my back and kisses my
cheek. His lips are damp with sweat. I force myself not to recoil.
He leads me to the large dining room, where I find Bard sitting at the
head of the table with Lyra perched at his side. He’s turned away from his
wife, exchanging quiet words with his father and the brother wearing a
burgundy jacket called Angus. My gaze sweeps down the left side of the
table, where I recognize a few more of his brothers, who are sitting with
their wives.
Connor guides me to the empty chairs at the end. As he pulls out a seat,
Bard’s eyes snap up to meet mine.
My heart skips a beat, but he looks through me as if I’m invisible. A
tiny kernel of doubt inside expands, but I swallow it down. He isn’t being
cold because he’s gotten what he wants and no longer cares. He’s just
playing a role.
I switch my gaze to Lyra, who is glaring straight into my eyes. She’s
wearing green contact lenses, framed with huge, fake lashes. Even in a
form-fitting green dress that showcases her implants, she still looks
intimidating.
Gulping, I take my seat and look toward her right, where I lock eyes
with a much older man with sideburns that stretch halfway down his face.
He gives me a nod, and I nod back.
I lean into Connor’s side and whisper, “Who’s sitting next to Lyra?”
“Uranos,” he whispers back. “Leader of the Greek mafia, and the one
who forced Lyra to get married.”
“Wow.”
“See how Dad made us sit with the plebs?” he hisses. “We should be at
the top with all the people who matter.”
There’s no chance for me to muster a reply because the one-eyed giant
from the dinner earlier pulls back a chair and squeezes himself next to me. I
sit straighter in my seat and stare forward to avoid his glare.
“Are you going to introduce me to your woman, boy?” he rumbles.
Connor clears his throat and turns to the larger man. “Brianna Murphy,
meet Lugh Nasad, Lugh Nasad meet Brianna Murphy.”
Lugh grabs my hand and brings it to his beard. His bristles brush against
my skin but not his lips.
“A pleasure,” he says.
“Nice to meet you,” I mutter, my gaze fixed on the tablecloth.
Bard rises from his seat and lifts his champagne glass. “Welcome,
friends and family. I’m honored that so many of you could join Lyra and me
to celebrate my fortieth.”
Sweat breaks out across my brow. Did Bard get my message? If he
didn’t, then he’s about to drink enough poison to kill him twice.
The pulse between my ears beats so loud that I can’t hear the rest of his
speech. It’s something about uniting two prominent families, but all I can
concentrate on is the poisoned glass.
Scenarios race through my mind. What if Bard has already digested the
charcoal? What if he inhales the Fentanyl with the champagne bubbles,
rendering the charcoal useless? I swallow, debating whether or not to
scream at him to stop.
 Bard brings the glass to his lips and pauses. “There’s one person I
would like to thank in particular.”
My breath stills.
“Lyra, could you please stand.”
Her eyes widen comically, and her gaze snaps to Connor’s. I glance
around at her side of the table, seeing only expressions ranging from
boredom to bland politeness. Connor wasn’t lying when he said they were
working alone.
Uranos gives Lyra an encouraging nudge, and her features harden.
Everything about her tense posture says she doesn’t want to be here and still
resents her arranged marriage. I would feel bad for her if she wasn’t
planning to murder Bard.
She rises, pushing back the chair so forcefully that it screeches.
“Lyra, I want to thank you for organizing this party, bringing us all
together, and for leading me to the path of true love.”
A few people around the table let out a collective “aww.”
Connor snarls, and Lugh snickers. I can barely hear them through the
roar of blood between my ears. My heart lifts with the hope that Bard got
my message.
Bard brings the glass of champagne to her lips. “You deserve the first
sip.”
Lyra flinches, her face draining of color. “No.”
“What’s wrong, darling?” Bard flashes his teeth.
She shakes her head, darts her gaze back to Connor, and places a hand
over her belly. “I’m... I’m pregnant.”
Chatter erupts around the table, and Bard’s features fall slack.
My heart pounds, and my mind fills with memories of Bard fucking me
without a condom because of his breeding kink. What if he did the same
with Lyra? What if she’s expecting his baby?
 Lyra’s posture softens and she pushes the champagne glass back to
Bard. “Congratulations, Daddy.”
My eyes narrow. This is bullshit. This pregnancy announcement is too
convenient. This has to be a lie.
Uranos springs up from his seat. “Congratulations,” he booms, “May
you have your first son and heir!”
I grind my teeth. What the fuck is happening?
Lugh throws his head back and roars with laughter. I want to snatch the
poisoned champagne and shove it down his throat.
A traitorous thought rises to the surface. What if Bard decides to stay
with her out of obligation to the baby? I shove it back. Even if there is a
baby, how can Bard continue to be married to a woman who’s plotting his
death?
A few others from around the table stand with their glasses lifted to
toast Lyra’s supposed son, but none of their words register until Connor
rises with his hand already in his jacket.
Panic explodes across my heart.
Connor is reaching for the gun.

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 Chapter Twenty-Two

E verything happens in slow motion. Connor pulls out his pistol and
aims it at Bard. He squeezes the trigger just as I leap into action, grab his
wrist, and tug.
The gun goes off, and Lyra screams, her shoulder caked in blood.
Every man on the other side of the table shoots to their feet and pulls
out a gun.
Fuck.
Connor spins to face me, his face twisted with rage. “Bitch.”
He backhands me across the face. Pain explodes across my cheek and
my vision blurs. As I stumble back, he seizes my throat and shoves me
against the wall.
My heart accelerates.
He’s going to kill me.
The room erupts into chaos. Bard appears out of nowhere and wrestles
Connor away from me. Connor swings at his father, and his gun goes off
again, bringing down a rain of plaster and dust.
I fall to my hands and knees and try to get up. A large hand pushes me
back to the floor.
“Stay down,” Lugh snarls. “Half of those guns are aimed at you.”
Shit.
 The next thing I know, Connor is gone, and everyone is out of their seat.
Among the male yelling and female screaming are the click of guns being
cocked and loaded.
Another shot rings out, followed by a heavy thud. I crawl under the
table and cover my ears, wishing I could block out the sounds of panic. My
breath comes in rapid, shallow pants, and I pray to anyone listening that
Bard isn’t the first casualty.
This is a fucking bloodbath.
“Everybody put your guns down!” Bard yells.
I slump forward, exhaling a sigh of relief. If Bard is calling out for
peace, then he can’t be the one who got shot.
“Now,” roars another voice that I’m sure is the Dagda.
Someone else shouts a string of commands in Greek. It sounds like
Uranos, calming down his side of the table.
The scuffling dies down to a tense silence, where no one seems to
move. I stay in place, not daring to shift. Bard’s family might know I’m not
the assassin, but Lyra’s don’t.
“Bring the girl,” someone shouts from the other side of the table.
“Leave her out of this,” Bard snarls. “She risked everything to stop my
son.”
This triggers another round of shouting. Somewhere between the
barrage of voices, someone accuses me of being Connor’s accomplice.
“They were in it together,” Lyra screeches. “That girl has always been a
bitch.”
Fury rushes through my veins, detonating an explosion of courage and
rage. I crawl out from under the table and shoot to my feet. Bard stands on
my left beside Connor’s fallen body. The moment our eyes lock, he steps in
front of me like a shield.
“Stay down.”
 He guides me further backward, but I’m already too far gone. That bitch
can’t get away with cheating on Bard, threatening me with a gun, and then
switching things around so I look like the assassin.
Lyra clings onto Uranos and glares across the room at me, her eyes
burning with hatred.
She looks like the victim—a pregnant woman who got shot because the
life she carries inside her is a threat to Connor’s inheritance.
Tensions are too high for me to blurt the truth. I’ve seen enough
skirmishes at the hospital to know what happens when a medic delivers bad
news to someone in the wrong frame of mind. Too many doctors have
ended up with bruises and black eyes just for giving an honest diagnosis.
It’s time to save my own neck and de-escalate.
I peek out from behind Bard and point at Uranos. “Connor was aiming
for Lyra’s belly because of what you said.”
The older man bares his teeth. “Me?”
“You told everyone Lyra’s baby was Mr. Dearg’s heir and not Connor.
He was furious and wanted to get rid of the competition, but I couldn’t
stand by and let him hurt the baby.”
Lyra’s face drops, and she gazes at me from across the room with wide
eyes.
Even Bard’s side of the table falls silent.
What I’m saying isn’t exactly a lie, but it also isn’t the whole truth.
I stare at Lyra through narrowed eyes, trying to communicate an
unspoken threat. If she continues trying to pin the blame on me, I will tell
everyone what I saw.
Her face tightens, and she glances to the side. “She’s right. I got carried
away and said something stupid. I’m sorry, Brianna.”
I nod.
Uranos smiles and the tension in the room dissolves. Bard turns to me
with a confused frown, but I give my head a tiny shake. If Connor survives
the gunshot, he can tell Uranos the truth. Better yet, Bard can release the
surveillance footage of Lyra cheating. There might even be a few clips of
them scheming to commit murder.
“Congratulations, Lyra,” I say. “I’m so glad you escaped with only a
flesh wound.”
The smile she gives me is tight.
Uranos offers her a glass of champagne. “Drink, Lyra. This will help
with the pain.”
I roll my eyes. Lyra’s supposed to be pregnant, yet he’s making her
drink. But then the man who arranged her marriage won’t give a shit about
the effect of alcohol on an unborn child.
Lyra takes a sip of the golden liquid, sighs, and sways on her feet. Then
her eyes roll to the back of her head, and she collapses. My gaze darts to the
head of the table. Damn. It looks like Uranos unwittingly picked up the
poisoned glass.
The older man chuckles. “She’s fainted.”
Bard runs a hand through his hair. “Party’s over, everyone. Someone get
my wife some fresh air while I deal with my son.”

The dining room is empty half an hour later. Paramedics wheeled Lyra out
of the house after someone noticed she was spending too long unconscious.
She didn’t drink the entire glass, but with a bit of luck, she’ll die before she
reaches the hospital.
Another set of medics is on-site for Connor, a father-and-daughter team
of doctors connected to Uranos. They lay his body on a wheeled stretcher
and inject him with a cocktail of drugs before administering triage. They
say a bullet lodged in his rib cage but didn’t perforate a lung.
 Bard sits me on a dining chair and presses an ice pack on my swollen
eye.
Connor groans and my gaze slides over to his prone body.
“Why isn’t he going to the hospital with Lyra?” I ask.
“Drs. Vejovis will patch him up and secure him for the flight to
Seacroft.”
“Seacroft?”
“A secure facility where we send those who attack members of other
families.” Bard taps on my bottom lip and frowns. “Does that hurt?”
I shake my head.
“Is it a prison?” I ask.
He nods. “Uranos, the Dagda, and the other two family heads set it up to
avoid bloodbaths like what Connor nearly started this evening.”
My shoulders sag, and I meet his blue eyes, which shine with concern.
“That was a very stupid thing you did today.”
“You know where he was aiming the gun,” I murmur, keeping my
words cryptic.
“And you could have gotten yourself killed,” he snarls.
I tighten my lips and give him the most defiant glare. What kind of
woman stands by and watches the man she loves get assassinated?
Love?
My gaze drops to my lap. Thank fuck I didn’t say that out loud.
The female doctor breaks away from where her father is attaching
shackles to Connor’s ankles and wrists. She pauses toward us at a
respectable distance and clears her throat.
Bard breaks eye contact to address her. “How is he?”
“Conscious and stable, sir,” she replies. “Would you like to have a few
words before he leaves?”
“Thank you.”
 She returns to her father and helps him secure the manacle around his
neck before they both exit the room.
“Dad,” Connor rasps.
Bard takes my hand and walks over to the stretcher, his features
unreadable.
“Don’t send me away,” Connor whispers, his voice thick with emotion.
“I’m sorry.”
“I know,” Bard says, his voice tight. “But you pulled out a gun in front
of two family heads. Nothing can save you now.”
“Please,” Connor sobs.
“You also hurt the mother of my child.”
Connor’s eyes widen. “Lyra? You’ve got to know she was talking out of
her ass. It was her idea to have you killed.” He turns to me. “Bri. Tell him.
Don’t let him put me in jail.”
“Your dad already knows,” I say.
“What?” His brows pull together.
Bard leans into Connor and murmurs. “If Lyra is pregnant then the
father is you. I haven’t touched that woman since we consummated our
marriage.”
“Then who...”
“Who’s the mother of my new son?” Bard wraps an arm around my
shoulder and pulls me into his chest.
Connor chokes. “Brianna?”
“Where do you think I was these few days?” I ask with a smirk.
“Thanks to your cheating, I’ve had the best sex of my life with your dad.”
His features go slack. “You’re pregnant?”
“We’re still working on it.”
Connor’s face crumples. He squeezes his eyes shut and releases loud,
wracking sobs. A pang of guilt tugs at my heartstrings. I know exactly how
it feels to be powerless, alone, and betrayed.
 Bard shakes his head and sighs. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there to provide you
with the love and guidance you needed, but I won’t make the same
mistake.”
I squeeze his hand. Bard didn’t even know he had a son until Connor
appeared on his doorstep at the age of eighteen. By then, his personality had
already been formed.
“Let’s go,” I murmur.
“Dad,” Connor cries. “I should have fucking killed you in your sleep.”
“Let’s go.” I tug at Bard’s arm.
Without another word, Bard guides me away from the stretcher and
toward our new life.

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 Epilogue

OceanofPDF.com
SIX YEARS LATER

I squeeze Lennan’s hand and he squeezes back, his little face a mixture
of fear and excitement. He wears a pastel-blue shirt and a navy sweater with
matching shorts, just like every other child at his new school.
Bard takes his other hand as we walk down the schoolyard path, passing
the parents of older children. Some of them incline their heads in
acknowledgment while others avert their gazes. Respect comes in all
guises, but we accept them all.
“Mum,” Lennan whispers. “What if I don’t make any friends?”
Kneeling, I cup his face, my heart bursting with love. Lennan is a
miniature clone of his father, with mahogany hair and bright blue eyes. He’s
quieter than the little boy Angus has with his wife, Aileen, but he’s just as
kind and brave.
“You have a head start on all the other children. So many of your
cousins go here,” I say.
Bard ruffles his hair. “Don’t worry, son. It’s everybody’s first day.
You’ll be fine.”
Lennan inhales a deep breath that puffs out his chest before glancing
from Bard to me for reassurance. I give him my brightest smile.
“Okay,” he says.
“That’s my boy,” Bard says with a chuckle.
“Lennan!” A little girl with pigtails sprints out from the building with
her arms outstretched.
“Fiona!” Our son bolts toward his friend, leaving me still kneeling.
A laugh bubbles up in my chest, and I glance up at Bard. Chuckling, he
reaches down and helps me to my feet.
“That was limber of you.”
 I clutch my back and groan. “I don’t know how I managed to kneel
when I can’t even see my feet.”
Bard wraps an arm around my waist, and we follow Lennan and Fiona
running down the path. He strokes my swollen belly and asks, “How are the
twins doing?”
“Fortunately, they’re both asleep,” I say.
He kisses my forehead, and I lean against his side. So much has
changed since Bard’s fortieth birthday.
Lyra got to the hospital dead on arrival, with the autopsy citing the
cause of death as an overdose of Fentanyl. The autopsy also proved that her
pregnancy announcement was bullshit.
It took much longer than expected to get pregnant. The delay was
mostly out of stress. I kept thinking someone in the Greek Mafia would find
out we knew about the poisoned champagne and come after us but I was
wrong. Connor’s supposed attempt on Lyra’s life made everyone blame him
for her death.
Things worked out for the best because Bard paid for an accelerated
nursing degree, which I managed to complete before Lennan was born. We
had a discreet wedding before I started to show, and we even invited Dad.
He now works as a clerk in one of Bard’s enterprises, slowly paying off
the huge amount he owes us for clearing his debt and for his long stint in
rehab. Mum has a cottage on the grounds so she can be close to her
grandchildren and is living her best life.
Neither of us has spoken to Connor since he was sent to Seacroft. Bard
gets the occasional report from the warden of B block to confirm that he’s
alive and well, but it’s an institution that doesn’t allow outside
communications or visitors.
Bard kisses me on the temple. “Since you’re feeling so limber, would
you like to ride me in the car?”
 I smile, remembering our first time together in the back of Bard’s
limousine. I’d been so frightened, so nervous, so broken. If I knew that
Connor’s cheating would lead me to the love of my life, I wouldn’t have
wasted so much time being scared.
“Are you sure you can handle all this?” I pat my belly.
Bard’s chuckle sends a thrill down my spine, which settles in my pussy.
He threads his fingers through my hair and cups the back of my head.
“Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’m already up for that challenge.”
I swallow back a laugh. Looks like it’s going to be a long, hard ride.

READ BREED WITH THE BEAST

Lugh’s story

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 About the Author

I write dark contemporary and paranormal romance featuring villains, monsters, morally gray heroes,
and the women who make them feral.
When I’m not writing steamy scenes, you’ll probably find me at my TikTok,
@SiggyShadeAuthor
Join my newsletter for exclusive short stories and updates on upcoming books:
www.siggyshade.com/newsletter

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Also by Siggy Shade

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Manacled to Medicine
Dance for Daddy

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Tentacle Entanglement
Stalked by the Boogie Man
Jack’s Head
Birched by the Krampus
Breeding with Bigfoot
Swallowing Water
The Morning Wood Tree

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