Declan: The Callaghan Mafia #1 Page 4

  “Father wouldn't like that.”

  “Your father is of no concern to you now. You answer to me. And I said, ‘no sirs.’”

  She nodded slowly. “Yes, si—Mr. Call—”

  I held up my hand. “Declan.”

  “Declan.”

  “Very good. Driver?”

  “Yes, Declan?”

  “Take us home. The main building on the compound.”

  “Right away.”

  The car pulled away from the house and she whipped around. With her long legs poking out from beneath that tawdry, trashy dress of hers, she watched her home fall away. I ran my eyes down her legs. I noted the scar that grew before my very eyes. Lengthening, and thickening, as her dress rose up just beneath her ass.

  I leaned over for a soft peek of those lower cheeks. Until she quickly sat back down.

  “How old are you, Ciara?”

  She swallowed hard. “Almost twenty-one.”

  “When is your birthday?”

  She blinked. “Tomorrow.”

  I turned my eyes ahead. “Well, I suppose this is cause for celebration, then.”

  We rode in silence, her breath coming in quick pants. She was fearful. And she had every right to be. I was angry. And I never covered things up whenever I was angry. My fists clenched in my lap, my teeth grinding together. I knew there was a strong chance her father knew something about my stepfather’s disappearance. And Ciara could still be a way to get that fucking information.

  Spend enough time with her, and she’ll sing like a bird.

  “Do you have any hobbies?” I asked.

  “No,” she said softly.

  “Do you enjoy things like cooking?”

  “No.”

  “So, you don’t cook.”

  She paused. “I wasn’t ever allowed in the kitchen. Near the sharp objects.”

  I slowly turned my head to face her. “Self-harm?”

  She shrugged. “I don't really know. I just…never was allowed.”

  “Did you go to school?”

  She looked at me in the reflection of the mirror. “Like, college?”

  “Yes.”

  “No.”

  “So, high school education.”

  “Yes, si—Declan. I’m sorry.”

  I nodded. “It’ll take time. Work at it.”

  “Yes, Declan.”

  “Do you enjoy anything? Like sports?”

  “I’ve seen a couple of football games.”

  “American football is weak, at best,” I said curtly.

  “I’m sorry.”

  I shook my head. “No reason to be.”

  Okay, maybe getting information out of her would be harder than I first envisioned. If she was so sheltered that she wasn’t even allowed to cook with her own damn mother, then she probably didn’t have anything for me. Or, if she had overheard something, she didn’t understand what she had overheard. Fucking hell, Daly had handed me a Barbie doll. Not a fucking person.

  That made me even angrier than I already felt.

  “Do you know what’s happening, Ciara?” I asked.

  “You’re taking me away as your property for debts owed,” she said.

  “Do you understand the specifics of that?”

  “No.”

  “Look at me.”

  She slowly brought her eyes to meet mine and my cock pulsed. She really was a pretty girl. Though, she didn’t wear makeup well. Way too much of it. And something told me it had to do with that scar on her cheek.

  The little bit of it I could see, at least.

  “I’ve accepted you to be my wife in order to clear your father’s debt with my family. There will be certain expectations of you. But I’ll give you a few days to settle in before those expectations are met,” I said.

  “Mar—marriage?”

  I nodded. “Eventually, yes.”

  Her eyes welled with tears as she stared over my shoulder. Not really looking at me. Or anything, for that matter.

  “My entire family—minus one of my brothers—is at the Callaghan compound right now. And for what I have planned for us, we are going to need our own place,” I said.

  “Our own place,” she said softly.

  “Yes. Can you handle finding somewhere for us to live around the compound? Somewhere on the same block. Price is no object.”

  “I can do that,” she whispered.

  “Good.”

  As she stared over my shoulder, my eyes fell down her body. Taking in her small breasts. Perfect handfuls, if I did say so myself. Her slim waist tapered into softly-blossoming hips. Good for carrying children. Especially with her soft thighs. I bit down onto my lower lip. I kept my groans to myself. This girl was fucking gorgeous, and there were so many things I wanted to do to her.

  I wanted to pull her into my lap in that backseat. I wanted to watch those soft hands of hers stroke my cock before she tasted it for the first time. I wanted to stuff that virginal pussy. I wanted to feel the warmth of her walls for the very first time as they caved to me. I wanted to pin her down. Strap her up. Keep her locked away until I had a use for her.

  Keep her at my side and show off my prize.

  Keep a lid on it, Dec. She’s been through hell.

  The carnal part of me and the rational part of me fought. Keeping her as my little orgasm toy sounded magnificent. Especially after a lack of release for so many, many years. But the fear in her eyes wasn’t attractive. I didn’t want her fearful of me. I wanted her to admire me. To worship me. To bow to me willingly whenever I told her to get on her knees underneath my desk.

  I had to take care of her first.

  Seeing the scars on her body infuriated me. It made me want to wring Daly’s neck until his eyes popped out of his fucking skull. No one treated a woman that way. Especially a young girl. Especially one’s own damn daughter. If I ever had a daughter, I’d never imagine selling her off. Hurting her so badly that she was left with a physical reminder of how much her father hated her. I clenched my teeth together. Ciara turned her head, her eyes falling out her own window again.

  No one hurt my women.

  And now, Ciara was my woman.

  You still need information.

  Oh, it wouldn't stop me from getting information from her. The good thing about her being cooped up in that old, rundown mansion was the fact that she probably heard her father screaming at people all the time. If I could get her to tell me stories of her father screaming, I might be able to piece together what he knows. Because the mind never did work well under pressure.

  Well, most minds, at least.

  If I could get her to relax—get her to settle in and feel welcomed—I’d be able to get her to talk more. Get her to open up. Possibly, get her to reveal the detail I needed to slit Daly’s throat myself, with reason. One thing about the family network was that we all kept one another in check. Alliances to us were enemies to another. And that system of checks and balances kept us both in favor of and pitted with other families. A silent stand-off.

  Where no one moved too much, lest the entire circle cave in on itself.

  I kept my eyes on Ciara. On the dip of her waist. The soft pooch behind her belly button. I couldn't wait to mark her with my teeth and crack my hand against her lovely ass. Blood was a treasure in my world. A trophy. A gain. And when I spread those legs of hers and felt her virginal blood on my skin, I’d have her all to myself. To do with as I wished. To bury myself in and pin against a damn wall anytime I wanted.

  I was glad she was my payment.

  Because a beautiful, innocent young girl like Ciara deserved better than what her father gave her.

  I’ll definitely have a bit of fun with you, my doll.

  I crossed my leg over my knee and forced my eyes forward. No use in making her uncomfortable now. Well, more uncomfortable than she was. Once we approached the wrought-iron gates of the neighborhood, I drew in a deep breath. This would be quite a shock to my brothers. Mother, especially. But there was a reason why we d
idn’t deliver this kind of information over cell phone. There was a reason why we kept things like this to ourselves.

  Ciara was from a rival family.

  And I knew she wouldn’t be readily accepted too quickly.

  The driver pulled up to the brownstone and I turned to the young woman beside me. She curled against the door, trying to get as far away from me as possible. If I did my job right, the next time this happened she wouldn't dare pull away from me. Instead, she’d scramble into my lap. Cling to me. Trust me. Hold me. Kiss me.

  Excite me.

  “Look at me,” I said.

  Her lower lip quivered as she slowly turned her watery green eyes in my direction.

  “Promise me you won’t try to run,” I said.

  She sniffled. “Okay.”

  “I need to hear the words. Say, ‘I promise, Declan’.”

  “I promise, Declan.”

  “You promise what, Ciara?”

  She sighed. “I promise, Declan, I won’t try to run. I’ll stay where you put me.”

  “Good girl. The consequences won’t be fun if you do. If you stay, you'll be protected. But if you run? I guarantee the hell you were living in will have nothing on your future.”

  A tear dripped down her cheek and I reached for it. I smoothed my thumb over her cheek, watching as she shuddered at my touch. I didn’t know if it was a good one or a bad one. And honestly? I didn’t care. I brushed the tear away before stroking her skin one last time. Memorizing her warmth. Her softness. Her femininity.

  Beautiful.

  “Come with me,” I said.

  The driver unlocked the car door and I slipped out. I reached my hand down as she crawled over the leather seat, taking my hand tightly. She stumbled on her feet, but I kept myself steady. Waiting until she righted herself on her impossibly-high heels.

  No more of those. Much too high.

  I released her hand and slipped mine to the small of her back. The cut-out of her dress offered me yet another feel of her skin against mine. And oh, how my cock sizzled with need. I drew in a silent breath. With each step, I breathed in and out. In and out. In and out. We made our way toward the front door of the main brownstone. The four-thousand square foot, double-sided brownstone was the main family residence here in Chicago. With six bedrooms, six and a half bathrooms, and three stories plus a basement, it had no shortage of room. But the gated block that sat on the water’s edge was partially owned by my family.

  And we had plans to acquire more of them.

  I stole a glance down at her and saw her roll her shoulders back. Such a powerful move for a girl that kept her eyes at her feet. She was timid. Scared. Small, both in stature and confidence. But when the door opened, she whipped her eyes up. She steeled her glance. She put on a brave face, and I admired that.

  One could never show weakness in the presence of another.

  So, why is she showing me weakness?

  “Declan. You brought a guest,” Thoman said.

  Ciara kept silent as my eyes fell onto my temporary assistant.

  “Yes. And I have a few instructions for you,” I said. “I need you to procure her a new wardrobe. Take her measurements, use the family account, and purchase her everything from lingerie to sensible shoes to dresses and comfortable clothes. I want Ciara presentable, and I want her to have plenty of lingerie to choose from.”

  Thoman nodded. “I’ll get right on it. Anything else?”

  I ushered her inside. “I also want a basket of toys delivered to the basement. That is where she will be staying until we find a place of our own on the block.”

  Thoman looked at me curiously. “I can prepare the basement for her, yes.”

  “I want all of this done by dinner tomorrow. It’s her twenty-first birthday, so I want a special dinner in her honor to be prepared.”

  “Well, happy birthday,” he said.

  He looked over at Ciara, but all she did was nod with an empty look on her face.

  “So, wardrobe, lingerie, shoes, comfortable clothes, toys. All measured to her, along with toys, delivered to the room in the basement. Anything else?” Thoman asked.

  I looked over at Ciara, but all she did was keep her eyes locked onto the wall. I didn’t know if she was registering anything going on around her. But I figured I could give her the evening to figure it out.

  Before I started chastising her for it.

  “She’ll need something for tonight. So, I suggest you get started in gathering toiletries as well as something for her to sleep in,” I said.

  “Of course, Declan. I’ll get right on it,” Thoman said.

  5

  Ciara

  The sprawling brownstone ahead of me stopped me in my tracks. But the second Declan’s hand pressed against my back, I followed his lead. He was very firm and unwavering in what he wanted with the small, pale man who answered the door. What was his name again?

  I couldn't remember.

  “Come. Follow me,” Declan said.

  I hated how his voice affected me. How my toes curled, and my eyes fluttered. I’d never heard a voice like his before. Raw. Powerful. It filled up a room without him having to yell once. A talent my father didn’t have. And as his hand slid to my lower back, I felt his palm against my skin. Through the cut-out of my dress.

  And his touch sent shivers down my spine.

  Get a grip on yourself.

  I didn’t like that he affected me this way. I’d been sold. He would expect my virginity and utter compliance in everything he wanted. And my life wasn’t above taking in his vengeful games. Richard Callaghan was missing? I didn’t know much about this life. But I’d heard my father yelling about things long enough to know that Richard Callaghan owned us. Owned the families. Owned every part of Chicago. So, if he had gone missing, that made my father a prime suspect.

  Will he torture me in his own sick games?

  The thought made me nauseous.

  We walked down a long hallway before coming into the kitchen. And the second I saw her, I dropped my gaze. Fiona Callaghan. Beauty and grace, all wrapped into one. I wanted to be like her one day. Confident. Happy. Beautiful, with her dark features and her trim nose. I closed my eyes as chairs scraped around the tiles of the kitchen floor. They were beautiful, marble tiles swirling with grays and whites. Calling for my cheek to lay against them.

  Because they heated as Declan’s fingertips curled into my lower back.

  “Explain yourself. Now,” Fiona said.

  I rose my head and went to speak before I saw who she was looking at. And it wasn’t me.

  “Mother, now is not the time,” Declan said.

  “Why in the world is James Daly’s daughter in my home? What have you done?”

  Two men stood behind her. Each of them looked like the other. I didn’t dare look back at Declan. I didn’t dare move a muscle. I stood there, watching their eyes dance over me. And I couldn't read their faces. One of them was a bit slender. Looked exactly like Fiona, down to the eye color. He had a look of indifference on his face. But the other? The one who looked more like Declan? He seemed to know.

  To understand.

  “Where is she staying?” the man asked.

  “Thoman is preparing the basement. Tomorrow, we’ll have a dinner celebration in honor of her twenty-first birthday,” Declan said.

  “We will have no such thing until you tell me what this is about,” Fiona hissed.

  “Later, Mother. We have a guest. One who will be staying with me for a while,” Declan said.

  I watched Fiona’s face drop. Her eyes slowly panned over to mine and the expression on her face ran wild. There was shock. Disgust. Fear. Worry. Declan slid his hand around my waist and turned me from the crowd. I let him guide me, falling into step beside him as we walked out of the kitchen. I heard Fiona talking harshly with the two other boys. Well, men who I assumed were her sons.

  How many of them are there?

  I knew Fiona was upset. But I wasn’t sure about the two other m
en. It didn’t matter, though. It wasn’t my place. Declan guided me back out to the foyer before turning harshly to the left. There was another door, one I hadn’t even seen when I walked in the first time. He reached for the doorknob. He turned on the stairwell light. The steps descended softly into the basement before taking another hard left, which dumped us into the sprawling space.

  A space that looked almost out of place for being completely underground.

  “Make yourself at home,” Declan said.

  As he flipped on the last light, illumination flooded the basement. The space was humongous. Much larger than even my bedroom as Father’s estate. The plush carpet underneath my heels gave way with every step I took. The white-washed brick walls were decorated with black and white photographs of iconic destinations. Places I wanted to visit someday. The Eiffel Tower. The peaks of Machu Picchu. I walked over to a gray-scale photograph of Bora Bora. The waves, crashing against the stilts of the glamorous huts that sat over crystal clear waters.

  I lifted my fingers to touch the picture before I remembered where I was.

  And my hand dropped quickly back to my side.

  “Thoman will be down with your things soon. Settle in for the night and get some rest. Tomorrow, you’ll be researching places for us to stay on this block before the family dinner tomorrow night.”

  I nodded softly. “Yes, Declan.”

  “Do you have any questions?”

  I swallowed hard. “Does your mother hate me?”

  I slowly turned to look at him and he sighed.

  “Is that really what you want to ask?”

  I nodded. “Does she hate having me here?”

  “That’s a different question, Ciara.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “So, which do you want answered?”

  I shrugged. “Either? Both?”

  He paused. “Ciara, I’ll make this as easy to understand as possible. This family is currently under attack. And if your father has any responsibility in the kidnapping of my father, you’re going to have bigger problems than my mother’s personal feelings toward you. Understood?”

  The blood drained from my face. “Yes, Declan.”

  “Good. Get some sleep. You have a busy day tomorrow.”