voted for Senator Alan Davidson in the elections, and because he was one of the only politicians out there who wasn’t a complete douche, and that was the name printed on the card in my hand, I’d shuffled into the back of the car.
Where the Senator himself had been sitting.
Now, when I thought about that day, I realized how fucking naive I’d been to get into the back of a limo for such a vague reason. But I’d been fortunate. Alan had been waiting for me. Waiting to tell me a story that still shook me to my core.
I’d made a promise to my dad that I wouldn’t tell anyone. He’d offered me money, and I hadn’t accepted it. I guess I should have, but back then, I’d been haughty and proud, and because the good guy I’d thought him to be hadn’t been so good when he tried to buy my silence, I’d told him to fuck off. I’d been disappointed in him, frightened by the lifelong lie I’d been living, and equally hurt that the man who’d sired me was just concerned that I was a threat to his campaign.
I’d walked out of that car never expecting to see my dear old Dad ever again.
Then, the day after he’d been elected, he’d been sitting in the booth of the cafe where I worked part-time to get me through culinary school.
Seeing him, I’d almost handed that table off to one of the other waitresses, but I hadn’t. Not when every time I’d passed the table, he’d caught my eye, a patient smile on his lips, one that said he’d wait for me all day if he had to.
Ever since that second meeting, I’d been catching up with him every three weeks.
And this bastard thought he could use our limited time together against my father? The one politician who could make a difference in the White House? One who didn’t have Big Oil up his ass, a pharmaceutical company sucking his dick, or any other kind of corporation so far up his rectum that he was a walking, talking lie?
No.
That wasn’t going to happen.
Which meant I was going to have to sleep with this stranger.
Before this conversation, hell, that hadn’t been too disturbing a prospect. Because, dayum, what woman wouldn’t want to sleep with this guy?
Even with an ego as big as his, he was delicious. Better than any cake I could bake, that was for fucking sure.
More than that, I knew him.
And I now knew that the life Fiona would never have wanted for her son was one he’d been drawn into.
The Mob.
The Five Points were notorious in these parts. Everyone was scared of them. I paid protection money to them, for God’s sake. I knew to be scared of them, and having been raised in their territory, it was the height of stupidity to think paying them wasn’t just a part of business.
Still, Fiona had never wanted that for Finn, and her Finn was the same as the one standing before me here today. In my tea room, which looked far too small to contain the might of this man.
She’d be so disappointed. So heart-sore to know that he was up to his neck in dirty dealings with the Five Points, and as he’d pointed out, the cost of his shoes, his clothes, and his jewelry, was enough to speak for itself.
If he wasn’t high up the ladder in the gang, then I wasn’t one of the best bakers of scones in the district.
Like Jenny had said, I had five star ratings across most social media platforms for a reason. I was good. But apparently, this man wasn’t.
Before I could utter a word, before I could even cringe at how utterly sorrowful Fiona would be about this turn of events—not just about the Five Points but what her son was making me do—the door clattered open.
Like he’d predicted, a team of people swarmed in.
Finn motioned to the floor. “Want anyone to see those?”
With a gasp, I dropped to my knees and collected the shots, stuffing them back into the envelope with a haste that wasn’t exactly practical.
Two shiny shoes appeared before me, followed by two expensively clad legs, and I peered up at him, wondering what he was about. He held out his hand, but I clasped the photos to my chest.
“You’re making more of a mess than anything else, Aoife.” His voice was raspy, his eyes weighted down by heavy lids.
For a second, I wondered why, then