Dangerous: Made & Broken (A British Bad Boy Romance) (14 page)

I sighed softly at the memory of how vulnerable she’d looked as she sat there in her pajama bottoms and the same, silky chemise she’d worn on our wedding night. How frail. And sweet. If it worked, then maybe we could finally move forward. Yeah, I had my work and my family as she’d pointed out, but it didn’t help much when all my thoughts had been circling around her for the entire past week. I hated to admit it, even to myself, but not talking to her and having the whole fucked-up disaster that was last Friday hanging over my head had been awful.

Her unexpected apology had been a godsend.

“What a lovely house. A wedding present?” Gerald Brigs, one of my father’s old connections and the twins’ godfather, looked around the entry hall. Next to him, his nephew, Leo, was in the process of taking off his scarf. He inhaled deeply, obviously appreciating the scents floating out from the kitchen as well.

“Ha, this is the first time I’ve come to your home and it doesn’t smell like stale beer. New wife keeps you on a leash, huh?”

I ignored Leo and turned my focus on his uncle. He was the real power behind this deal anyway—Leo was just here as part bodyguard, part trainee. His dad didn’t trust him to handle anything important on his own, and from what I knew of him, I couldn’t say it was a big shock.

“Yeah, my father bought it for us. Said my old flat wasn’t a place for newlyweds.”

Also, he had needed it for one of his money laundering schemes.

“Mmhm, a flat is nowhere to raise little ones. They need grass and trees.” Gerald patted me on the back with a jovial grin.

I suppressed a grimace and extended an arm to lead them toward the kitchen, where I could hear Mira bustling around. If given the choice, I’d honestly rather opt for a full day of torture than have to deal with a kid, but I’d rather not burst Gerald’s little fantasy of our happy home. He’d always favored doing business with men who had families, and I was keenly aware that my recent marriage was the sole reason he’d chosen to go directly through me for this deal rather than my father.

When we rounded the corner to the kitchen, it was like stepping into the twilight zone. Pots and pans were simmering on the stove, where the heavenly scent emitted from, and in front of it Mira stood, wearing an apron and a pretty dress. Her cheeks were rosy from the heat and there was a smile on her face when she looked up. Compared to what I’d walked in on earlier this week, I wouldn’t have been too surprised to find that body snatchers had suddenly taken over London, starting with my temperamental little wife.

“Blaine, welcome home,” she said. And then she put down the pot she’d been stirring and walked over to me where she proceeded to raise up on her tiptoes and plant a light kiss on my cheek—just like she had with Marcus.

My heart gave a weird sort of lurch. I cocked an eyebrow at her, but she just smiled up at me like nothing was amiss.

“Blaine, introduce us to your lovely wife,” Gerald said from behind me, and I was jolted into motion by the reminder that we weren’t alone.

“Gerald, Leo, this is Mira. Mira, Gerald and Leo. Both old family friends.” More business relations, really, but to our family, it was the same—and it didn’t hurt to butter Gerald up a bit.

Mira stepped forward to grab Gerald’s outstretched hand and accepted his cheek kiss with that same smile on her face.

“Pleased to see you again, my dear,” he said, before moving over to let Leo greet her. “I was at your wedding, of course, but I regret I wasn’t able to greet you then. Forgive me, but I could have sworn the vicar introduced you as Agnes, or something to that extent?”

Mira didn’t bat an eyelid. She just shrugged as she returned to the stove. “Oh, you know how it is. With a name like Aignéis, an Irish girl isn’t going to have an easy time in the big city. I’ve been Mira for the past eight years now. You boys best get settled in at the table, the food’s almost ready.”

We’d never talked about why she’d changed her name, but I had a pretty good idea that it had to do with the extents she’d said she’d gone to to get out from under her family’s thumb. It had obviously been a sore subject from the way she’d talked about it with me, but you wouldn’t know it by looking at her now. She looked like the perfect housewife, all smiles and homely warmth as she moved around the kitchen.

With a stab in my gut I realized that she looked like my mother had, in my favorite memories of her. There weren’t many wholesome family memories from my childhood, but those I had were of the times I’d snuck into the kitchen just to be around her. She loved to cook, and she was always happy when she was in the kitchen. Possibly because my father never ventured into what he classified as a woman’s domain. It had always been safe, and warm.

I shook my head to clear it of the sudden onslaught of conflicting emotions. She was long gone, and getting all mushy about the past wouldn’t help me land this deal.

Mira looked up at me when I left the room with our guests, an eyebrow raised in question and the warm smile replaced by a determined expression now that their backs were turned.

I couldn’t hold back a wry smile of my own as I gave her a short nod—yep, no body snatchers at work here. She just wanted me to keep my end of our bargain, and was working hard to ensure I did too.

But that didn’t mean I couldn’t enjoy it while it lasted.

* * *

“I’ve got a shipment waiting to be shifted, and I happen to know you are on the lookout for a weapon upgrade for your guys.” I nodded at Leo, making it clear I had my intel from a reliable source. “Why don’t we hit two birds with one stone and make it part of the payment for your development site?”

Gerald leaned back in the dining chair with his glass of wine in one hand and his eyes fixed on me. As much as his friendly smile was still plastered on his face, I knew from experience he was all business now.

“Son, are you even ready to delve into developments? You and your brothers do nightclubs, small business protection, drugs… that sort of thing. And you do it well. This scene… it’s for the big boys.”

I gritted my teeth to stem my irritation at his patronizing tone. “Oh, I’m ready. Which I’m sure you’re aware of, or else you wouldn’t be here. I know you’re a busy man—you don’t waste your time.”

The corner of his mouth twitched in acknowledgment of my point. “True. I do think you have the potential—but forgive me for having a few reservations still. It’s a big project, and one I’ve poured a lot of resources into. Whoever takes over needs to know how to grease the right palms and crack the right skulls, or else,
I’ll
end up looking bad. Let’s say I take your guns off you as part of the deal—how are you going to raise the last fifty million pounds?”

I narrowed my eyes slightly, letting him know I wasn’t that easy. “Forty, tops. And don’t you worry about my funds, Gerald. I know how to shift assets around. And I know this is a big opportunity. Why else would you be in my home, drinking my wine and eating the food my wife has cooked for us? I want this. And you’re not going to find a better deal elsewhere.”

“Well, speaking of your wife’s food, it’s time for dessert,” Mira interjected. She and Leo had been watching us negotiate for the past twenty minutes in silence, so the sound of her voice was somewhat unexpected. I frowned at her for the interruption as she stood up, the same chirpy smile she’d been wearing all night plastered on her face. “Blaine, would you give me a hand, please?”

I cocked my eyebrow at her in silent disapproval, but she just looked at me as if nothing was amiss.

“It’s a bit fiddly. Come on, please.”

“Go help your wife, son. We’ll continue this over the dessert,” Gerald said. He gave Mira a wink. “I’m afraid you have your hands full with this one, my dear. Their mother sadly didn’t have enough time with them to iron out their kinks, bless her soul. She was a good woman.”

“Right,” I muttered, only barely managing to keep my irritation with not only the interruption, but also the second reminder of my mother for the day, out of my voice. “Let’s go look at that dessert."

Mira led the way into the kitchen, and when I’d passed through the French doors, she closed them behind me quietly, as if she was trying to not alert our guests in the dining room down the hall.

“What is it, then?” I sighed. “I gotta say, I had no idea I gave off the impression of a master confectioner.”

Mira turned toward me and put her hands on her hips. The smile was once again gone. “He’s playing you like a fiddle.”

“Hm?” I frowned. “What do you mean?”

“He’s manipulating you by seeming so reluctant. Trust me, he wants to sell that development-whatever to you really, really bad. And if I were you, I’d be very careful.”

“Gerald’s a family friend—he’s not out to trick me.” I crossed my arms and leaned against the fridge. “And what are you anyway, since you think you know his sinister motives—a damn telepath?”

“I’m a trained psychologist,” she huffed, clearly getting irritated herself. “And I’m very good at reading body language. I’ve been watching them both throughout dinner, and the way Leo is twitching and smirking, it’s obvious something isn’t right about this deal. But suit yourself—if you have forty million and a shipment of automatic weapons to bet on your own ego, then what do I care? I just thought you’d like to know.”

With another huff, she marched over to the fridge and opened the door so I had to step away. She fished out a tray with a chocolaty looking cake and shoved it into my arms. “Here, take this in. The sooner they’re done eating, the sooner they’re out the door, and I’m getting to the end of my rope playing a Stepford wife to your Al Capone.”

* * *

“Son of a bitch!”

The development site was as dark as would be expected at four AM on a November morning, but even from my vantage point inside my car on the road next to the muddy field, it was obvious that this wasn’t the multi-million dollar leisure park I’d signed off on.

We’d finished the deal before Gerald and Leo left earlier that evening, but I hadn’t been able to shake Mira’s warning, crazy as it had seemed. It had niggled at me until I’d finally gotten in my car, picked up Louis, and driven all the way to Manchester to look at the damn site with my own eyes.

“Looks like there was some initial plans to turn the area into a hot spot a couple of years ago, but the council shot it down,” Louis said from the passenger seat. He was looking at his iPhone, reading up on what I should have looked into before ever inviting Gerald over. What I
would
have looked into, had he not had ties with the family.

“What are you going to do about it? If Dad finds out you got fucked over like this, he’s not going to be pleased.”

“No, and that’s exactly what that bloody bastard is counting on,” I growled as I clutched the steering wheel to ease some of my frustration. “He knows I’d never tell Dad, so he thinks he’s got nothing to fear from the Steels, even after pulling a stunt like this.”

“Our only advantage is that he’s got no way of knowing you already figured out the deal was a scam,” Louis said, a thoughtful frown pulling his ginger eyebrows down. He and Liam were the only ones of my brothers that had inherited our mother’s red hair. “So if we act quickly, before he gets time to hide that contract you signed away, we might just be able to convince him to reconsider.”

“Right. And I have just the shipment of encouragement needed to make him do that, sitting pretty in a container down by the harbor,” I said, flexing my hands against the steering wheel. “Get Liam to call the crew in. We have a little house call to make once we get back to London.”

* * * *

Chapter 16

Mira

I didn’t see Blaine the day after the dinner party. From my room, I heard the front door shut just before midnight and assumed he’d gone out to do whatever it was he did when he was out.

But on Tuesday, just before noon, while I was resting on the bathroom floor after the morning’s final round of dry heaving, thanks to the persistent stomach bug I’d seemingly picked up, a heavy knock on my door announced his return.

I jolted, managing to knock my head against the sink as I scrambled to get up from the floor. He hadn’t knocked on my door since he’d brought me the truce-pizza our first night here, and a spurt of curiosity made its way through my general self-pity. Hopefully, he didn’t want me to put on another dinner party—one day of playing the perfect hostess and housewife to a crime lord was more than enough for me, thank you very much.

When I made it into my bedroom, Blaine was already standing by my bed, leafing through my copy of Sylvia Day’s newest book I’d abandoned on my pillow before rushing to the bathroom.

“Put that down.” I felt my cheeks flush at the thought of him coming across the sex scene I’d earmarked for later return.

To my mild astonishment, he obeyed without comment, throwing the book casually on my bedspread before he turned to look at me. As he did, his dark eyebrows pulled into a frown. “You sick?”

I took that to mean that I looked about as haggard as I felt. “Just a stomach bug.”

“Ah. Does that mean you’re too ill to go out for a few hours?”

I gaped at him as his words sank in. He wanted to take me
outside.
As sick as I felt, there was no way I’d pass up an opportunity to get out of the house. Besides, if the last few days were any indicator, I’d be feeling better within an hour or two anyway.