Page 26 of Southie
“You’re a photographer?” I asked, motioning toward the camera bag she held.
She nodded again, and I exhaled a breath. I couldn’t take the silence from her. I yearned to hear her sweet voice.
“Camilla, could you please speak to me instead of nodding at every question I ask you? There’s no reason to be scared. I won’t hurt you. I’d never hurt a woman. Especially you.”
I took the chance to glance at her, and the deer in headlights look marred the gorgeous contours of her face. Again.
“But you said—”
I held my hand up.
Her brows furrowed, and she pursed her lips in annoyance but remained silent. I remembered what I said in her father’s office, but it was just a scare tactic. Her father needed to believe I’d do anything to get Paddy’s money. I’d never hurt Camilla, but Paddy would without a second thought once he found out about her. I needed to put fear in Mr. Jennings so he’d make the right move and keep her safe.
“Look, Camilla. I won’t hurt you, but my boss has no problem doing it. I needed your father to make the right decision. He needed to take the situation more seriously than he was because it was in his best interest and yours. Paddy takes personal enjoyment with women, especially beautiful women, and I don’t want that for you.”
I fucking cringed at the thought. She was a stunning woman, although I got the sense she didn’t see herself that way. Paddy would strip her of everything she was worth—her dignity, her allure, her spirit. He would use her up and leave her to the wolves after he was finished with her.
I would try to stop that from happening any way I could, but I’d have to take on the Irish Mob to do it.
So, I’d needed her father to comply first.
I didn’t want to explain my job or the ins and outs of who Paddy O’Connor truly was. I’d hoped to get to know her, but at the rate of this conversation, she’d know more about me and what I did for the Irish Mob before I learned anything about her.
She remained silent for a while. Her forehead creased, and I saw the questions practically bouncing around in her head each time I caught a glimpse of her. I wondered what she was thinking, but she’d have to ask if she had any more questions. I wouldn’t freely dish out any more information about this world.
“What kind of trouble is my father in, Liam?”
I held back a groan. My name sounded wonderful leaving her sweet lips. I’d love nothing more than to listen to her scream it over and over again.
Although this wasn’t the right time to be thinking about it, the smooth sound of her voice shot straight to my dick. I shifted in my seat and shook my head, pushing those thoughts out of my mind. I shouldn’t be speaking about Mr. Jennings' business, especially to his daughter. He tried to keep her safe, regardless of how she took his actions, which I understood. It was his business to tell, not mine.
“Camilla, I don’t think you should ask me. You need to talk to your father.”
She blew out a breath. “I’ve tried. Could you please tell me and be honest, Liam? It can’t be good, which is the reason he won’t tell me anything. What is it you do for Mr. O’Connor?”
“You don’t know much about Southie, do you?”
I tried to shift the conversation away from my job. She didn’t need to know exactly what I did for him, that I did the dirty work. I got all the blood on my hands while he sat back on his throne and reaped the benefits. Why I gave a fuck what she knew was a better question. One I hated to ask myself.
“No. I moved to Boston with my father because we both needed a fresh start after my mother died, and…and because of some personal things going on in my life.”
Before I could respond, her phone rang. She pulled it from her camera bag, grimaced when she read the number on the caller id, sent the call to voicemail, and shoved it back inside the bag.
“Well, Southie is—”
More ringing from her cell phone cut me off.
She removed the phone again from her camera bag and sent it straight to voicemail without looking at the caller id.
It started ringing again not even a minute later.
She sighed, shutting it off.
Something wasn’t right. With every ring of her phone, her demeanor changed. Although Camilla feared me, the longer she talked, her body relaxed some. Once the phone began ringing, that relaxed posture vanished. First, annoyance littered her face, then the more the phone rang, the annoyance shifted to fear.
A tinge of uneasiness rose in my chest. I didn’t know this girl from the next, but I knew when someone was in trouble. From the look in her eyes, she was in trouble.
Her words replayed in my mind: “Some personal things going on in my life.”
