Chapter 7

Have you ever woken because you can feel someone staring? There's that dread which instantly forms in the pit of your stomach, yet you are momentarily too scared to open your eyes. However, deep down you know if someone is there to kill you, you need to open them to have a fighting chance.

Cian's arm firmly wraps around my waist, and his morning erection presses securely against my naked ass. He convinced me to sleep in his bed last night because he was injured; he made me feel guilty, as I'm the reason he is hurt.

Slowly, I open one eye to see Darragh's face staring back at me. He is so close I could lean forward and headbutt the asshole.

"What do you want?" I croak.

"Jesus, morning breath," he says, standing to his full height.

"Well, if you were not being a fucking creeper, you wouldn't have to smell my breath. Does it smell like Cian's cock?" I tease.

"I haven't forgotten about you promising I could suck your cock," Cian mumbles, tightening his grip around my waist.

"What?! Wait! He did? When?!"

Cian's chest rumbles against my back. "When I almost died—he promised if I woke up, he would let me suck his dick."

"Fuck off the both of ya. Get your ass out of bed, it's almost six. Meet me in the gym downstairs."

I groan, having forgotten about Darragh demanding I go with him. "I don't want to. It's warm and cozy in here."

"Don't give a shit," he says, as he rips the covers off the bed, leaving mine and Cian's naked bodies on display. "Fucking hell, you're both naked."

"Wanna join us?" Cian asks him.

"Not really. You can keep your little shriveled-up cock to yourself."

Cian laughs as I slide myself out of bed. I'm not a girl who is ashamed of her body. If it were up to me, I would probably be naked most of the time.

"There is nothing little about this," Cian says as he rolls onto his back, his hard-on standing at full attention.

Pulling Cian's discarded shirt from last night over my naked body, I walk back to the bed and lean over, placing a kiss on his forehead.

"I will be back unless this dickhead kills me."

"He won't kill you—he likes me too much—but please don't die or I won't have anyone to take care of this."

He thrusts his hips in the air, and I laugh.

"I wouldn't put all your money on that. The verdict is still out on her being here," Darragh mutters.

"Keep telling yourself that, big boy," I say, patting Darragh on the chest as I leave the room. Darragh follows me out into the hall, but I am startled when Sadie and Eloise come running toward us in their princess pajamas.

"Harper," Sadie says. "Can you make us breakfast?"

Before I have time to answer, Darragh speaks. "Not today. Harper is coming with me to the gym. Where is your new nanny?"

A girl who looks like she is in her early twenties reaches the top of the stairs, completely out of breath. "I'm sorry, this house is so big, and they are fast."

"It's fine," Darragh says, and my mouth hangs open—so he can be nice. "Harper, this is Reid. She is one of the girls' new nannies, and she will work here along with her colleague, Delilah."

"Nice to meet you, Harper. The girls have told me so much about you already. Darragh, don't forget the girls have an interview for their new school today at eight thirty."

Darragh nods. "Harper and I will only be an hour. Could you feed the girls and make sure they are dressed into something nice?"

Reid says goodbye and the girls follow her downstairs. Darragh turns to look at me, his gaze lingering on my legs a little longer than necessary. "I'll wait here while you get dressed."

With a nod, I walk across the hall and open my bedroom door. The room is bigger than my apartment, but is still fairly bare, holding nothing more than a huge bed and a TV mounted on the wall. Luckily, the walk-in closet is stocked with clothes, thanks to Ronan, and it has an en suite, which I use quickly to pee and brush my teeth. My short hair saves me so much time, one swipe with a brush and it's done. Once I finish in the bathroom, I move into the closet and change into a pair of workout leggings—the kind that make your ass look fucking fantastic—and a sports bra. When I walk back out into the hall, Darragh is talking to Celia. I thought she was just his event coordinator, and it seems a little intimate that she has access to the hallway leading to the guys' bedrooms.

"Why is she here?" I snark, jealousy swirling in my stomach. It's not a feeling I'm used to, and I don't like it one bit.

Darragh laughs. "Celia is also Ronan's assistant."

Crossing my arms over my chest, I raise a brow. "That still doesn't explain why she is here in the hallway leading to their private bedrooms."

Ronan's door opens, he steps out looking put together.

"What's going on here?" he asks, picking up on the tension.

"I was just coming to get you," Celia says, and I bite my teeth together hard to stop myself from saying something I might later regret.

Ronan doesn't acknowledge her. Instead, he watches me with rapt attention, trying to figure out what is wrong.

"Yes, your employee thinks she is welcome to come up here and roam around," I snipe. Damn, I really should have kept my mouth shut.

Ronan exits his room, and as he pulls his door shut, it beeps loudly. Yep, stupid me—the bitch can't get into their rooms.

"You have a meeting in fifteen minutes," Celia simpers. "You can't be late."

Ronan continues to ignore her. He stalks toward me, and I hold my ground. They want me here—they want to claim me. Well, apparently, I'm a jealous bitch and he can deal with it. He doesn't stop when he reaches me; instead, he places his hand on my chest and pushes me back against the wall, leaning in close to my ear.

"Are you wearing this to kill me, Angel? Because I have an important meeting in fifteen minutes and my dick is solid as a rock."

"Why don't you get her to help you with that?" I spit out bitterly.

He chuckles in my ear. "We both know that won't ever happen. Jealousy looks good on you, though."

"Meeting," Celia says, breaking whatever voodoo this outfit has on Ronan. He straightens up and turns his attention to her, and Darragh smirks.

"I don't give a fuck if the King of England is on the phone—do not come up here. You have a phone, use it. When you come to the house, you stay downstairs in the waiting room until I get there. You have never been allowed to come and go as you please, and if you step out of line again, I will replace you."

Celia swallows hard and nods.

"As fun as this has been, we have to head down to the gym," Darragh interrupts, pushing off the wall.

I go to move around Ronan, but he grabs my arm just above the elbow and pulls me into his body. His lips find mine and his large, tattooed hands cup my face. He kisses me like a starving man and my knees buckle. I instantly regret not wearing underwear, as the way his lips dominate mine has me squeezing my legs tight. If this man asked me to drop to my knees right now I would.

Ronan pulls back, leaving me in a daze as he steps aside and winks at me—he knows what he just did, the asshole. Darragh shakes his head as Ronan walks downstairs.

Once I've composed myself, I follow Darragh down to the home gym.

"You need to stretch," he says. "Just copy what I do. Today, we will start you on the treadmill."

"Why running? The only time you will catch me doing it is if I'm being chased, and even then, I might prefer to let them kill me."

"You seem like running is your favorite thing to do, so that is where we will start. Both of us."

I mumble under my breath about him being an asshole, and he ignores me, showing me how to stretch. After he is done, he gets me onto the dreaded treadmill and presses some buttons. The mat beneath my feet moves slowly, and I start at a walking pace. He gets onto the one beside me, but he starts out faster. By the time he is at a steady run, I'm barely jogging, but I don't complain. I thought he was going to teach me some self-defense moves today, but instead he has me jogging.

After what feels like a hundred years, Darragh leans over and presses something on my treadmill, and the pace slows until I've come to a complete stop. He barely looks like he has worked up a sweat, whereas I realize my sports bra is covered in sweat and the peach color is now fucking see through. Darragh smirks at me.

"Stop looking at my tits."

"It's nothing I didn't see this morning."

He steps off his treadmill, gets a towel from a pile, and throws it at me before grabbing his own.

"I thought you were teaching me self-defense?"

"I will, but first we will work on your stamina. The second someone my size tries to take you down, you have no hope. Mornings are for gym, then I will add self-defense before dinner. I want the girls to learn as well."

"You mean to tell me you dragged me out of bed to fucking run with you because you thought my stamina was poor? Are you fucking crazy? I was a whore—I fucked all night. My stamina is fine."

"Harper, I stopped calling you a whore a few days ago, though I haven't forgotten," he says, and I roll my eyes. He steps closer. "I also haven't forgotten that Ronan had me tied to a fucking chair and held a gun to my fucking head because of you. I'm trying to be a good friend to Cian by not killing his bitch. Him almost dying put shit into perspective for me. If they have any say in it, you're not going anywhere, and I have to get used to it, plus the girls like you, much to my disgust."

I smile. He might have intimidated me once, but no longer. I know Ronan calls the shots and he won't let Darragh kill me. "Aww, Pooky Bear," I say, finding the worst nickname I can at short notice. "I think there might have been a compliment in there somewhere."

"Don't call me that," he snaps.

"Call you what? Pooky Bear?"

He shakes his head, but doesn't respond, so I figure we are done here. I throw the towel in a basket by the door, and as I twist the handle, I hear Darragh clear his throat.

"Harper," he says. I turn back to look at him and he seems a little nervous. "Would you come to the girls' interview with me? They like you, and I need them to behave and get into this school."

"I sure can, Pooky Bear," I say with a wink, and quickly step through the door, closing it before he can change his mind. Running back upstairs, I detour to Sullivan's room. I haven't seen him yet this morning. Each room has a biometric door lock you press your thumb on before it will unlock. Ronan mentioned last night after dinner he needed to see me in his office to sign paperwork, and he also to added my thumb prints to the bedroom locks.

Sullivan is lying asleep on his stomach. The cover is pulled up, but it has left a small portion of his ass to peek out, and damn, the man has an amazing ass. I tiptoe across the room and peel my sweaty clothes off, dropping them to the floor. Curling back up in bed for a little while sounds like an amazing plan. When I kneel on the side of the bed, Sullivan moves quickly, grabbing me and flipping me onto the mattress. He settles between my legs and leans in close, his long hair draping in a curtain around us. Everything happened so fast, all I can do is stare at him, and he smiles.

"This is a pleasant surprise, but I could smell your pussy the second you took your clothes off. Who got you so hot and bothered this early in the morning?"

"I woke up to Cian's dick pressed against my ass, and I may have gotten jealous over Ronan and Celia."

Confusion clouds his face, and I sigh. "I found Celia upstairs this morning and might have gotten jealous. Then Ronan kissed me, and I was in a puddle at his feet. You guys are making me soft. I don't do the hearts and flowers bullshit—I'm an independent woman."

Sullivan laughs. "You can still be an independent woman, Love, but get used to the hearts and flowers. What brings you in here to me?"

"I need to move past what happened, and it needs to be you. You make me feel safe."

"I will always try to make you feel safe—always," he says, leaning forward and placing a soft kiss on my jaw. His lips are soft and lush as he moves slowly down my neck, each kiss sending a wave of pleasure to my core. As much as I want to take my time with this man, I can't. I need him to fuck me and remove some of the fear. It's stupid, since I know Sullivan of all people won't hurt me. My heart beats frantically in my chest and my hips buck forward. His hard cock rubs against my pussy and the friction has me wanting more.

"I need you inside me," I pant.

"If at any time you want me to stop, tell me. Don't pretend with me, Love."

I nod and tears lace my eyes, ready to spill over. Sullivan looks into my eyes as he lines up the tip and slides inside of me slowly. My tears fall, not because I'm here with him, but because I held onto that fear. Those men made me feel like I would never be worthy again, even if it was a stupid thought. Sullivan doesn't move. He waits for me to give him the okay, so I nod, but he still doesn't stop watching my expressions as he pulls back and slowly thrusts inside. Resting his body weight on one of his elbows, he uses the other hand to wipe away my tears.

"You're safe with us, Angel, and there is no need to be jealous. We are loyal. No one could light up a room like you do. You must see it—you have all three of us wrapped around your little finger."

That makes me laugh. "I've done nothing of the sort."

"Is that right?" he says, and I nod.

Sullivan grabs my arms, though he does it slow enough to not scare me and pins them above my head. He doesn't apply too much pressure and I know if I wanted, I could easily pull them down and he wouldn't stop me.

"Maybe it's these tits," he says as he places his mouth over my one of my nipples and sucks, running his tongue over the tip.

"Oh fuck," I moan as my back arches from the bed. "Yes, keep doing that."

Sullivan slides his hand under my ass and lifts me slightly off the bed as he rotates his hips slowly. I realize he isn't fucking me right now; he is slowly making love to me. I want that with him. I want him to love me.

He steadily works my body toward an orgasm, taking his time, loving me in a way no one has before. The pesky tears are back as the orgasm takes over my body, goosebumps lining my skin, and the tremors wreck me. I always thought making love would be boring, that it was something only married couples did, and why those men frequented brothels.

Sullivan comes inside me—something I have let no men do besides them. How have they been able to break down my walls and make me trust them? I know I shouldn't, given their line of work combined with what I saw at the butcher shop. It cemented the fact these Irish men of mine do indeed hurt people.