Page 21 of Redemption's Inferno

“You think I’m old or stupid?” she chuckled. “I know where you work, I know the types of places you frequent…I have the internet, you know.”

“Mum!” Chains couldn’t remember the last time he’d blushed, but he knew his face had to be flaming right now.

“Oh, bollocks, as if your generation invented kinky sex? Don’t be a prat! You think I never had a pair of handcuffs or an anal plug?”

“Mum!” Chains was covering his ears, eyes closed and shaking his head. “Bloody hell, I’m having heart palpitations!”

She rolled her eyes. “Listen to me!” She smacked the back of his head with her knitting. “Are you listening?”

“Ow! Bloody hell, yes, I’m listening!” He glared at her but the look on her face was serious.

“Whatever happened with MI6 is in the past. You’ve moved on and started a new life. You have a job and, from what I’ve heard tonight, good friends. Your boss—the man in New York?”

“Joe.” Chains nodded.

“Joe seems like an excellent chap who looks out for you and found you this job that…you enjoy on every level. Now there’s a woman that has you thinking about your future but you’re reluctant to start up with her because you think the past deserves more power than the present. That’s rubbish. The present is all you have, son, and sometimes you have to take what it offers.”

“Mum, it’s so much more complicated than that,” he said wearily.

“Rubbish!” she repeated, holding out the scarf and eying it carefully. “I think the purple dinosaur should go on the end, yeah?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Mum.”

“Complicated because you think someone from the past will come after you?” she continued as though she hadn’t stopped. “Big deal. Last summer Eloise Royce’s son-in-law drank himself under at the local pub and drove right through her bloody living room, with her in her rocker. Killed her, he did. Right in her living room. And Phineus Canter’s new grandson died in his crib. Healthy as a horse, that SIDS horror—no rhyme or reason. None of them spies or mafia or any of it. Just regular people, dead for no reason. Sometimes, the danger is here,” she pointed to her temple. “Not out there.” She motioned with her hand. “As for the bedroom—”

“We are not going to talk about the bedroom!” he growled.

“We’ll talk about whatever I say we’ll talk about,” she snapped back. “I don’t know what game you and Emilie are playing, but I’m guessing it’s not in the bedroom, and it should be.”

“Oh, for Christ’s sake…” He threw up his hands. “Why is everyone so determined to put us together? I’m sorry I tried to fool you with the fake fiancé stuff, but I thought it would make you happy! We’re not dating, not engaged—hell, we’ve never even slept together! What a cock-up this is!”

She chuckled. “Actually, it’s quite brilliant. I want you to carry on your little game. If not for yourself, then for her. That girl desperately needs someone to love her. Even if it’s not forever love, she needs love and she needs it now. She needs to feel it right down to her toes, that there’s a man who wants more than just her fanny! And none of that BDSM nonsense—” She held up a hand when he started to protest. “There’s nothing wrong with it, shag to your heart’s content like that when this is over, but it’s not what she needs now; Emilie needs plain old love. Nothing more, nothing less. She needs a man who can make her parts quiver from just the touch of his hand—not a paddle or a vibrator. She needs someone to heal her soul, and that’s exactly the type of man you are. You’re not this closed-off bloke with dreadlocks and a piss-poor attitude—you’re strong and stubborn but also gallant and loyal and caring. If you don’t want to be that man anymore for yourself, be him for her. Plain as the nose on my face, that girl doesn’t need anything except someone to show her the power of true love. If you can do that, whatever’s in the past will work itself out. Trust me.”

“Bloody hell.” He rubbed his hands down his face. How in the hell had he gotten himself into this?

“You’re only here six more days,” she reminded him. “What difference does it make if you carry on the charade if it helps her?”

“So you want me to not just pretend for you, but pretend for her as well? You want me to pretend that I’m falling in love with her because you think it’s what she needs?”

“Why not? I won’t give you away and if you never believe anything else I say, believe this: I’m a woman and I recognize another woman’s pain. All she needs is love. Mr. John Lennon said it first and I’m saying it now.”

Chains made a face at her.

“Now be a good lad and go pour me a wee bit of scotch, will you?”

Chains frowned. “Since when do you drink scotch?”

“Since I’m too old for anal plugs and nipple clamps. Go on then!”

Chapter 8

Deciding there was no response to a comment like that, Chains went to the kitchen and opened a few cabinets, shaking his head. His mother had always been a pistol, but somewhere along the way he’d forgotten she was still a woman. She’d dated a bit when he was younger, but he’d noticed the way she held men at arm’s length and he’d simply thought the betrayal of his father had been enough heartache for her. It never occurred to him that even though he hadn’t seen her in relationships, she’d still been having sex over the years, but now that he was getting older himself, he realized how stupid that was. Of course she’d been sexually active—what woman would go more than 35 years without sex? Not even his mother, he thought grimly.

He stared at the amber liquid he poured as it glistened against the glass and wondered what he’d gotten himself into. He’d finally had things under control in his life. It had taken a while, but he was in a good place now. He had a great job that paid better than working for the government, he had a fantastic apartment with views of the Strip, he had friends he actually cared about, and there were myriad women for the taking at Club Inferno whenever the mood struck him. This trip to England was supposed to be a quick thing; find Emilie, figure out what was going on and bring her home. Instead, he was visiting his mother with a pseudo-fiancée—a woman he wanted to fuck so badly he could taste it—and two different people were telling him Emilie was the perfect woman for him. He didn’t get it. In a matter of three days, he’d begun to rethink everything he thought he wanted in life, with Emilie occupying his every thought even though it made no sense. He didn’t even know if he liked her, so why on earth would he get involved with her?

Well, maybe that was a bit of a lie. Emilie was sexy, intelligent, sweet and professional. She did a fantastic job running the club, making sure everyone was paid on time, customers were happy and they met all the legal requirements sex clubs had to contend with. They were private and exclusive, so most of the legalities had to do with the liquor license, but there were dozens of details every single day and Emilie handled them like a pro even though she’d never been in business before. She was also intuitive, gentle and, from what he’d seen, was an excellent mother. She adored her daughter and spent every moment she wasn’t working taking care of her. Even though Viggo and Jamie had a live-in nanny so they didn’t have to worry about coordinating their schedules, Emilie often brought Simone to work for a few hours during the day if she had to meet a vendor or do inventory. She seemed to genuinely enjoy spending time with her, and it was one of the only times he’d ever seen a true smile light her face.

He definitely liked seeing her smile and was keenly aware she rarely did it. Her inner turmoil seemed to always linger just on the edge of her eyes and he could see how much it tormented her. On those rare occasions that it didn’t linger there, she was breathtaking and he’d been almost spellbound when looking at her. Fortunately—or unfortunately, depending upon your point of view—it didn’t happen often so he was spared the embarrassment of getting caught gaping at her like a lovesick teenager. Thinking she was gorgeous didn’t mean anything, though. Lots of women were beautiful and usually after a couple of quick shags he got them out of his system. He’d been positive that was what would happen with Emilie because he had no doubt she was attracted to him as well, but the way she’d reacted when he’d kissed her had thrown him for a loop. He was almost never turned down when he came on to a woman, and certainly never in a situation like this where he was in control. Except he wasn’t really in control. He was a strong, dominant person in general—both sexually and professionally—but so was she. The things she’d endured had only made her stronger and she would never truly submit to anyone. Ironically, that only made him want her more and that was a problem.

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