Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 79232 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79232 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
“Sleep, doll,” he tells me. “You got him last night. I’ll get him tonight.” And he does.
When Fiona goes and pulls an all-nighter with her friends, never coming home for curfew. We have to find her, bring her home, and make sure she understands the importance of safety and honesty.
When Tiernan is accepted into St. Albert’s, and we drop him off at the door, and he walks away with a grin on his face and a duffel bag in his hand. I collapse in the car when he’s gone and cry as if my heart will break.
Those are the moments that I give thanks with all my heart that I’m no longer alone. A lesser man would’ve bowed under the weight of this responsibility. Raising a family, while devoting himself to the demands of his Clan. But not Nolan. And every day that we face as one brings me closer to him.
He’s gone during the day on Clan business, and I’ve hung up my job as reporter. Instead of the investigative reporting I once did, I now write for the media, though I’ve been assigned a travel column instead.
It’s a lot less dangerous, and a lot more exciting.
Though Nolan doesn’t hide who he is from me, I chose to be ignorant of what he does. It’s a challenge at first, but I adapt. And eventually, I come to accept this. All of this. That the work of The Clan isn’t legal but necessary, the backbone of Ballyhock in more ways than one. Crime is nearly nonexistent, the church thrives, and law enforcement work with them like a well-oiled machine. I don’t even pretend to know what they do. I don’t pretend this is all okay. What I do is mind my own damn business.
We don’t have the privacy we crave, though. Between the children underfoot and the men of The Clan always about, we sneak in our private moments in stolen bits and pieces.
The first day mam comes to take Sam for an outing and Fiona is in school, I’m working in the bedroom. I have a deadline at noon to submit an editorial on inexpensive family travel destinations in South America, when I hear the door open.
“Hello?” I call out. No answer. I open the drawer next to my desk where I keep my tools for self-defense that Nolan gave me. I look outside the window briefly and note my bodyguards in place. So whoever’s entered hasn’t gotten their notice.
“Hello?” I say again, my heart beginning to pound. I hold the pepper spray in my hand, ready to use it, my cell phone programmed to call the guard if necessary.
The door to the room flings open, and I throw the pepper spray at him with a blood-curdling scream. I gasp when I see it’s Nolan.
He ducks just in time to avoid it, and the items he carries in his hands go flying.
“Bloody hell, Sheena!” he bellows. “What the fuck are you doing?”
“Oh, Nolan! Oh my goodness, are you okay? Did I get you?”
I fall to my knees beside him.
“I’m fine,” he growls, reaching for me. “But I’ll teach you to attack me in the middle of the day when I’ve come for good reason!” Though he’s growling at me, his eyes are twinkling. He’s been looking for a good reason to toss me over his knee, the kinky bastard.
And the next thing I know he’s kneeling on the floor and dragging me across his lap. I haven’t been spanked in ages, and even though I wriggle and squirm in protest, I know he’s not really punishing me. He misses this as well as I do.
He slams his palm against the fullest part of my arse.
“That, woman, is for trying to burn the eyes out of my head! And for future reference, you spray the damn thing, not throw it!”
I squeal, my yelps buried in laughter while he continues the torrent of hard smacks.
“You didn’t answer me!” I protest. “Twice I said hello and you said nothing in return!”
“Had headphones on,” he says pleasantly, gripping my waist and continuing the sound spanking he set out to give me.
“Doesn’t matter,” I say, panting, when his hand rests in between smacks. “You still scared me.”
He sets me upright on the carpet, and plants me sitting on my scorched backside. It’s then that I notice what tumbled from his hands. I cover my mouth with my hand in surprise, not sure how to respond.
“Nolan,” I whisper. There’s a bouquet of wildflowers wrapped in cellophane and a black velvet box.
“Oh, don’t get all excited, now,” he says with mock severity. “Not gonna propose to the girl who tried to blind me.”
“Tried to blind you?” I say, giving it right back. “One could argue, sir, that I’m the one who was blinded.” I mutter to myself. “Falling head-over-heels, helplessly, madly, irrevocably in love with mafia.”