The logo on the front is for a fundraiser for the Boston Athenaeum.
What did they need a fundraiser for? The Athenaeum is a private library where rich jackoffs can view historical treasures that the great unwashed have no access to, lest we spoil the antiques with our greasy fingers. Figures. Just when I softened a bit for him…
Irish folks like the Carneys wouldn’t have been let in just a hundred years ago.
I guess the climate control for those rare books isn’t cheap. If only the Carneys cared as much about the climate their staff operates in. The kitchens of their casino restaurants run brutally hot, and when kitchen workers asked for the ventilation hoods to be inspected, James had told them to bring in fans from home or find another job.
“Sasha?”
Finn’s voice snaps me from my thoughts. He’s holding up a pair of dark yoga pants.
“Big fan of yoga?” I can’t stop myself from asking. It doesn’t seem to match his aesthetic.
“I probably should,” he says, shrugging. “But no. A friend of mine left these here and I never got them back to her.”
A friend. I bet.
God, I don’t want to put on one of Finn Carney’s ex’s pants. But I’m cold, damp, and just want to get to the part where we figure shit out so I can get the hell out of here.
Finn’s blue-black eyes take me in for a few seconds longer. I’m self-conscious and hold the clothes in front of me like a ward. Whoever wore these before me was probably some ridiculously hot supermodel type. I’m not looking forward to this attractive man who oozes confidence seeing how I don’t measure up.
It’s not that I want him to find me attractive. I just don’t want him to think I’m some kind of hideous bumpkin.
He gives me a sexy half smile.
I don’t want him to find me attractive. Right.
“If you need help let me know. I’ll wrap your ankle after you get changed.”
With that he leaves his bedroom, shutting me inside.
4
Finn
Patrick is right. This is going to be fun.
I don’t love the way I got Sasha here, but P.J. was thrilled to participate.
“Man, I love theater,” he’d said. “I was in a ton of plays in parochial school until Sister Mary Cunt-face decided I needed to spend more time on math. I got expelled after I showed the new play lead what I meant by ‘break a leg.’”
He agreed to flush Sasha into my place. We worked out the script to trick her into believing she and I had a common goal: fear of my father.
In some ways it’s a lie, and in others, it’s not.
I’m not afraid of my father’s violence—he’s got more effective ways to keep his kids in line these days, namely money.
But Sasha does have a lot to fear from him. If I don’t convince her to give up her foolish work, she or one of her family members will disappear – permanently. She wouldn’t be the first, nor would she be the last person to go missing after displeasing James Carney.
Patrick, Callan, and I are under no illusions about our father’s business practices. I’m not so sure about my youngest brother, Rory, and my sisters definitely are kept in the dark as much as possible. My father doesn’t do this out of masculine protectiveness for his daughters. His goal is to keep them out of the loop and therefore as marriageable as possible.
Can’t have those future senator sons-in-law knowing where the bodies are buried, after all.
It’s why I can’t resent them for it. My sisters are merchandise in our family, too.
It’s unfortunate that P.J. was so rough with Sasha, but it did lend to the verisimilitude of it all and wasn’t totally out of line with what I’d expected. If I’d thought we could negotiate without the ruse, I would’ve taken a different route. She’s already sacrificed quite a bit to organize the casino staff and obviously isn’t giving up without a fight. I’m looking forward to the challenge.
Breaking that conviction down will be fun, and I’m gentleman enough to see that she’s left satisfied in other ways.
I’d been worried that part of the difficulty here would be lack of physical attraction, not that that’s stopped me before, but turns out it’s a non-issue.
Sasha is a beautiful woman. In an understated way, true. Not the sort of outrageously attractive women I usually go for, but she’s lovely. There’s a rawness to her beauty that intrigues me, and I wonder what she’d look like all done up. Something to consider later.
My bedroom door opens and she leans against the doorframe, standing on one leg with her injured ankle tucked behind her. My shirt hangs almost all the way to her knees. She’s average height for a woman, but I’m used to fucking tall, leggy models. There’s a certain vulnerable femininity about her petite size that appeals to me in a surprising way.
She’s blushing, those big hazel eyes of hers glued to my floor. Her honey blonde hair, still damp from the snow, hangs in loose waves around her shoulders. My eyes linger on the curve of her breasts, and my cock twitches in response.
Yes, no problem with physical attraction at all.
I help her to the couch, enjoying the feel of her warm body against mine. The curves are even more luscious than they look in her ill-fitting clothes. Once she’s settled on the sofa, her eyes sweep the living room and take the fireplace. It’s old, but I had it converted to gas using some of the money my father earmarked to buy off various Charlestown preservation societies.
It’s within scope, after all, and our downstairs tenants were happy for the upgrade. I don’t want to be a slumlord. We left the ornately carved mantelpiece. I didn’t want to disrupt the old-world charm of this place but didn’t want to live in an outdated, stuffy crypt, either.
With a flip of the on-switch the flames flicker to life, casting a warm glow on the soft taupe leather of the couch and on the face of the enticing woman sitting on it. I don’t use the fireplace much myself—I’m hardly ever cold.
But women tend to run cold, and it’s easier to get them naked when the heat is turned up.
When I come back from the bathroom with the elastic bandage, Sasha is leaning toward the fire, her eyes closed and her arms wrapped around her body. She hears my approach, eyes flying open with a flash of panic.
I ignore it and sit on the couch, tapping the cushion between us. The reluctance on her face is delicious. Overcoming her fear is going to be difficult, but the challenge of it turns me on even more.
If I didn’t have my father’s ire to worry about, I’d take my time with her. Alas, time’s not a luxury either of us can afford.
“Ice is next, so you might as well just let me wrap it up.”
As she shivers, I press my lips together to keep from grinning. She slides her leg toward me, good girl that she is.
The yoga pants are too long for her and also a bit tight. I can’t remember who left them here, but whoever it was clearly didn’t have Sasha’s amazing curves. Enjoying the view, I take my time inching the pantleg up.
There’s something to be said for a woman with tits and an ass you can get lost in.
I stroke her ankle with my fingertips. Her skin is cool to the touch, even with the fireplace going. The swelling is acute. I move the bandage around carefully to offer her some support, securing it with two metal clasps. I admire my work for a minute and pull down her pant leg. Her face remains a neutral mask.