Chapter 12

CHAPTER 12

THOMAS

T oday was never going to fucking end.

I was unnerved by how much I enjoyed Rose’s mouth. It was hardly the first time I had gotten head. It wasn’t like I actually took any of my vows seriously.

Hell, seminary school had been the most thorough sex education a man could get.

If I was being objective about it, her mouth wasn’t the most skilled that had ever sucked my cock. That honor belonged to one of the bishop’s illegitimate daughters. But there was something different about Rose. She wasn’t like the whores and sluts who worked out their daddy issues on the cocks of priests. She wasn’t plastic like the other dolls of the Upper East Side. Nothing about her screamed fake or empty. She wasn’t on her knees trying to fill a void; she wanted to follow my orders.

She wanted to earn my praise.

Fuck, I didn’t know what made me want her, but it didn’t matter. I stuck to the plan, more or less. I held my shit together and made her feel what I needed her to feel. The seeds of desire, doubt, and anger were all sown exactly where I needed them to be.

So why was I so pissed off?

I stormed through the rectory’s hallways, making sure my rage was painted on my face so the few old fucks who still roamed the halls would give me a wide berth.

When I got to my room, the lights were off, but I knew exactly where my unwelcome visitor sat, waiting for me.

“Your men fucked up,” I said as I crossed to the crystal decanter of whisky on the bookshelf and poured myself a drink.

The room flooded with light as Declan turned on the lamp and stood to his full height, as if that was supposed to intimidate me. He didn’t scare me. He might be the leader of the fucking Irish mafia in New York, but I was a man of God, and going against me was fucking stupid when your own people were so soaked in whisky-flavored Catholic guilt.

“You wanted her scared. My men scared her,” he said, shoving past me and pouring himself a drink. Him not saying anything about my tardiness told me he knew that his men had fucked up.

“By all means, help yourself,” I sneered. I tossed back my drink then ripped the decanter out of his hand and refilled my glass before handing it back.

“Oh, I intend to, and we need to have a little come-to-Jesus moment,” he said, refilling his own cup and then moving to the couch opposite where I sat. “Did you have to be so rough with them? They’re new.”

“Why are you sending the new kids to handle your top contracts?”

“You’re not my top contract, little boy. You are not your father. You are not your brother. All you are is an annoyance that I am allowing, because of what you’re going to get me.”

“They tried to rape her,” I seethed before tossing back the second drink and throwing the glass against the wall and watching it shatter. “That would have ruined everything.”

“They did not. They were just trying to scare her.” He shrugged like it was no big deal.

“No, one of them cut her, left a wicked gash on her thigh that still isn’t fully healed.” I had caught a glance at the wound on her thigh as I was petting her, careful not to touch it and to keep my hands on the opposite thigh. I wanted to torture her, not hurt her.

Declan looked me up and down for a moment, like he was considering his options.

“They will be dealt with,” he said finally. “Though your jokes about inbreeding with sheep definitely brought them down a peg or two. Is that what they teach you boys at seminary school now? Vows of chastity don’t count if it’s livestock?”

“Fuck, no.” I scoffed. “I thought that shit was just common Irish sense.”

Declan rolled his eyes. “Are you trying to piss me off, or is this just some self-hatred thing because you’re not as pure-blooded English as your daddy would like people to think?”

“I don’t give a fuck what he thinks, nor do I give a fuck about being Irish. I care you found the four stupidest motherfuckers that just happened to be gingers and sent them, without simple instructions, to scare my girl.”

“Your girl?” He raised an eyebrow at me.

“You know what the fuck I meant,” I growled.

I stood and paced around the room.

Usually, a good blow job calmed me, but not this one. There was too much energy running through my body, too much anxiety that I needed to get out. It was like my skin was crawling, and I didn’t know why. I wanted to go back to the Astrids’ manor. I wanted to take Rose and bend her over one of those antique desks that get more polish than use and make sure she remembered who her pleasure belonged to.

“I really don’t,” Declan said. “But it’s also none of my goddamn business. I don’t give a shit who she belongs to, who she doesn’t belong to. My men did a job, and we had a deal. Did you get it?”

“No,” I said, running my hands through my hair. “But I will.”

“When?”

“As soon as I can,” I bit out, going to pour another glass of whisky, needing something to take this edge off.

Declan stood and slammed his glass down on the table. “See that you do, or the rest of our deal is off. I might want that information, but you need what I have. And never make me wait for you again.”

And he turned on his heel and walked out of my room, leaving his threat hanging in the air. I hated that he was right. Going to Mary Quinn’s house, I hoped to at least get an idea of where that information was, but I did not know. The only way I was going to find it was with my little angel’s help. I was going to have to move faster than I had intended.

Two seconds.

I had two whole seconds of peace before another man that I did not want to fucking see walked into my private room without invitation.

“Christ, can a man get no peace?” I growled.

My father stood in the doorway, not saying anything for a moment. He just stared at me, taking me in. I knew enough to know that he would not talk until he was damn well ready, and I was just over it.

I took off my priest collar and flung it across the room, unbuttoning the top couple of buttons of my shirt so I could breathe. Then I collapsed into the overstuffed armchair and closed my eyes for a moment, trying to will away the impending headache that was forming between my temples.

Dealing with Lucian Manwarring was the last thing I wanted to do today.

He would be dealt with soon enough. As soon as Mary Quinn was right where I wanted her, destroyed, destitute, and desperate, I would come after him.

What Mary Quinn did to me was despicable. That didn’t change the fact that my father was the one who put me on that plane. He was the one who had banished me to a lifetime of serving God instead of myself. He was the one who didn’t have my back when I needed it most.

Family came first, my ass.

“What happened in Rome?” he finally asked, walking fully into my rooms and closing the door behind him before sitting. As if it fucking mattered if anyone overheard us.

I shrugged.

“Tell me,” my father demanded, not enjoying repeating himself.

“Apparently Cardinal Benetti didn’t take too kindly to me fucking his bastard daughter,” I answered. The sooner he got the answers he came for the sooner he would leave.

“Where?”

“In the ass.”

I could feel him rolling his eyes at my glib response.

“I meant, in what location did you fuck her?”

“I know what you meant,” I said, sitting up and opening my eyes. “In St. Peter’s chapel. On the altar… then again across his desk, and there might have been some foreplay in the baptistry.”

He rubbed his jaw the same way he did every time he was calculating bribes in his head.

“She said she wanted to see God. As a man of the cloth, how was I supposed to deny her?”

“Thought we agreed you’d keep it off holy grounds.” He smirked, trying to hold in his laughter. God forbid I take his humor as a sign of approval.

“Sorry to be yet another disappointment, Father,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest and waiting for him to get to whatever his point was.

He stood, re-buttoning his suit jacket, and took a few steps to the door. Really, if he wanted his visits to be so short, why did he even darken my doorway? He could have just called or texted.

“I’ll fix it. The right donations in the right hands will bury all of this excommunication nonsense. You’ll be back in Rome by the end of the week.”

That was why he was here, to send me back into exile.

I wasn’t a scared child anymore. I wasn’t just going to do as I was told.

“No,” I said, watching as my father froze, his back straightening before he turned toward me. I loved telling him “no.” I was pretty sure it was the only time he ever heard the word. Putting my feet up on the table, I stretched back and linked my hands behind my head. He didn’t get to know that he got to me. “I think I am going to stay in New York for a while.”

“Why?” he asked, his eyes narrowing, studying me as if he could see my plan written across my forehead.

“What’s the matter, Father? Not happy at your prodigal son’s return to his family’s bosom?” I was playing with fire, and I didn’t give a single fuck.

What could he possibly take from me now?

“You can’t go after Mary Quinn,” he warned.

“Who says I am?”

“I’m your father. I know you. You do not let shit go. You hold grudges like lifelines.”

“Don’t you fucking dare claim you know me,” I said, getting to my feet. He was right, of course, but he and Luc were just as bad.

“Mary Quinn is untouchable. Period.” He rounded on me, standing face to face. This was the first time I had ever looked him straight in the eye, ever stared him down man to man. I wasn’t grown when I left, and I hadn’t seen him since. Hadn’t even gotten more than a phone call in over seven years, asking me what the fuck had I “done this time.”

“You don’t think I want her blood?” he all but spit. “You don’t think I want to take her down and destroy her for everything? She is untouchable.”

“No one is untouchable. Everyone has a weakness. Everyone has a button that will make them fall. You taught me that.”

“Yes, I did. And that includes us. Mary Quinn has… information on this family. Leave her alone, Thomas, that’s an order.” He gave me the same look—condescension mixed with warning—he did when I was a child.

It wasn’t as effective when he wasn’t towering over me.

“I don’t take orders from you… Father. I answer to a higher power.”

He rubbed his jaw again. Did he think he could bribe me to drop this? He couldn’t, but it would be fun to watch him try.

“Look. Things are… different now. I’m remarried,” he said, like he was trying to diffuse the situation. Explain that he was a kinder, gentler Manwarring, as if such a thing were possible.

“I’m aware, I was there.”

If he was surprised, he wouldn’t show it.

“You should come to dinner and meet Stella properly,” he said. “I’m sure she would love to meet you.”

“I’d love to greet my new hot… young… stepmother properly,” I said with a suggestive wink.

Father sighed. For the first time in probably ever, he let his shoulders drop a little. That was when I noticed the slight signs of aging. He was still fit and well-groomed. He could easily defeat any opponent in a boardroom or polo match, but there was a weariness that hadn’t been there before.

“I don’t want any trouble, Thomas.”

“Neither do I,” I replied.

I didn’t want trouble. I wanted revenge.

He raised an eyebrow as if he didn’t believe a word I said. I guessed that killer instinct wasn’t completely dead.

“What’s the matter?” I taunted. “Don’t you trust the word of a man of God?”