“Why would you want to marry me? You don’t even know me.”
“To lay it straight, I’m having visa troubles. If I don’t get a spousal visa in the next week, I’m going to have to go back to Ireland.”
Ireland. Now that accent makes perfect sense.
But this bizarre proposal doesn’t.
“Yeah, I’ll have to pass. I don’t need another sham marriage, thank you.”
“Okay. I’ll wipe the debt. And I’ll pay off all of these,” he picks up the stack of letters I tossed at him only a few moments before. “And…” he gestures around the house, a look of disdain forming on his chiseled face. “I’ll buy you a new apartment. In a building that isn’t infested with rats. You’ll have to live with me for the first three months, of course. That’s when immigration do their surprise checks. But by the time that’s over, I’ll give you the keys to your new place.”
Right on cue, there’s a loud crash coming from the apartment next door, followed by a roaring argument. Great, the crackhead neighbors are at it again.
“Jesus, how the hell do you live here…” He doesn’t finish his sentence. He doesn’t have to.
I take a deep breath and sink into the sofa. Hell, I’m going to be late for work now anyway, I might as well mull over this ridiculous offer.
Most of the problems I have right now are tied to money. All of Johnny’s debts are looming over me. Even if I’ve stopped opening the envelopes, they’re still there, burning a hole in my coffee table.
My eyes sweep over this debt collector. His tanned skin providing a mesmerizing contrast against his deep blue eyes. He’s so handsome, so intriguing. The thought of him being my husband, if only for a little while, well — I can’t say that isn’t incredibly alluring.
Really, I’ve got two choices.
Stay indebted on the back of my husband and never see this man again. Or get these bills paid and get to see this man again.
Daddy always told me, if you listen to the universe closely enough, it’ll send you out hints. And when it does, you need to listen.
“Fine,” I say cautiously, watching his expression. Waiting for him to crack into a smile and for him to tell me it’s all a joke. “I’ll do it.”
A flash of surprise dances in his eyes, before returning to his default scowl. “Cool.” He pulls out a card from his wallet and leaves it on the coffee table. Come to this address tomorrow morning to meet with my lawyer.”
He stands up and I stand up too. I don’t even come up to his shoulders. To my surprise, he sticks out his hand.
I gingerly take it and shake it. It’s strong and cold, and I’m painfully aware of how clammy mine is.
“Pleasure doing business with you.”
“Right,” I manage, and before I can think of anything slightly witty to say, he’s gone.
7
Atlas
My brother’s laugh rips through my office, echoing off of the stone walls and the high ceilings. Lisa flinches as he slaps his knee in delight.
“A wife? Didn’t Olivia teach you nothing?”
He doubles over with a fresh wave of laughter. I punch him on the arm and try to focus on the mountain of paperwork sitting in front of me.
But the truth is, I can’t focus on anything but the events that happened this morning. I got the shock of my life when she opened the door. In the daylight, she was even more incredible.
I can’t even put my finger on it. It’s not even the glow of her velvet-like skin or the way her curves fill out her tight waitressing shirt. Or how her she bit her plump bottom lip when she stopped herself saying something she knew she shouldn’t.
It’s just… her. An angel that looks so out of place in that crack den she’s living in.
My fist curls around my pen, the plastic cracking underneath my fingers. I can’t concentrate on whatever shit joke Oisin is making. All I can think about is her. And that rat bastard that left her with all his debt. I hated him before, but now, I’ll kill him if I ever get my hands on him.
“Well?” Oisin asks, aiming a crumpled up ball of paper at my head. I dodge it with ease. “Did you get down on one knee?”
I roll my eyes. “No,” I say through gritted teeth. “I just told her I’d wipe her husband’s — I mean, ex-husband’s — debt.”
His eyes widen in surprise, and I’ve clearly given him a fresh wave of material. “Jesus, you paid a few mil for a fake wife?” Out of the corner of my eye, I see Lisa startle. “Do you know how many women woulda done that for free?”
My brother and I moved to the States together after our parents died in a car crash. I was twenty one and he was fourteen. I was on the doors of one of the bars Romanov frequented, and when he saw me knock out a punter with one clean swing, he offered me an ‘apprenticeship.’ Hell, it paid a lot more than the security gig, so I took it without thinking twice.
Turns out I was pretty good at snapping fingers and dumping bodies. I soon worked my way up to being a loan shark. Turns out, I was even better at getting people to settle their debt. I guess you could say I’ve managed to come up with a good few convincing techniques over the years.
And when Oisin was old enough, he joined the business too. Being his older brother and only person he had left to look up to in his life, I was incredibly over-protective at first. Being a hitman isn’t all about dealing the blows, you gotta learn to take them too.
But I didn’t need to worry. With his laid-back attitude and ability to jump up and dust himself off after a swift punch to the jaw made him a natural.
The ‘Irish Charm’ gene seemed to skip me and go straight to Oisin. He rarely even had to use violence — his cheeky patter and convincing manner usually got him whatever he wanted, whether it be with clients or chicks.
And that’s not just the only way in which we’re different. Put us in a line-up, and you wouldn’t even know we were from the same country, let alone brothers. His blonde hair goes almost white in the sun, and his freckly skin flushes a rosy red when he gets angry or excited. His wide eyes always give away what he’s thinking. The only things we have in common is our Irish accents and our overbearing size.
Now, leaning over my desk with that same twinkle in his eye, I already know what he’s gonna say.
“Oh shit, you like her, don’t you?”
“What?” I snarl, my eyes trying to focus on the paperwork in front of me.
“You heard me. You must like this chick. Is she hot?”
I shrug, trying to keep my poker face on, but he smirks the second my lip twitches. “She’s alright.”
“Donnacha Bryne,” he laughs, stabbing his finger in my face. He can be such an annoying little brother sometimes. “You wouldn’t pay that much money for a chick you thought was ‘alright.’ What happened to you being sworn off of women?”
“I am. This is purely business.”
I made a promise the day I tossed my wedding ring in the trash.
No women. Ever. Not even ones to fuck and chuck in the early hours after too many Jim Beans.
They’re too much hassle. And in the end, all they do is take your money and leave you high and dry.