Page 29 of Cassio (Belles & Mobsters 3)

My mysterious stranger.I didn’t even know his name. Nobody had ever made me lose control of my body like him. No name. No contact. Nothing after Margaret came banging on the door, interrupting my perfect stranger’s session with my body.

Jack, my stepfather, and Margaret’s brothers came searching for us in the club. While the bouncer had no issues stopping my cousins from entering the club, he wasn’t inclined to refuse Jack Callahan. After I had to leave abruptly, I regretted not giving the stranger my number or asking for his. But everything happened so unexpectedly, it never even crossed my mind.

I wanted to go to the club the next day, but things were heated for a few days afterwards. My stepfather was rather pissed at Margaret and me the next morning, then shortly afterwards I moved to my own apartment. Life somehow got in the way, but I never forgot him.

A month later, I drove by that club several times, but much to my dismay, I never saw him again. I even approached one of the front bouncers describing him and asking if he knew who he was. All I got was a blank stare. I took that as a negative response. I promised Jack I’d never go into that club again, and since the bouncer had no clue who I was talking about, it seemed silly to break my word to my stepfather.

But that orgasm was….Ugh, better stop thinking about that.

It was really frustrating that my body rejected anyone else. I had no idea where it was coming from, but each time a man tried to initiate even a touch, I froze. My body would shut down and my mind would scream in protest. At twenty-five, I had to be the oldest virgin in all of New York.

Much to my dismay.

It wasn’t exactly the position I competed for. My adventures with my trusted battery operated friend weren’t so exciting anymore. Especially after experiencing how great the real deal could be. My stranger gave me a glimpse and then left me high and dry.

“Do you think Chad will like it?” Maggie asked. I shrugged. It didn’t really matter if he liked it or not.

Chad!My body definitely didn’t want him, but I guess I kept thisrelationshipgoing with hopes that it would somehow work out. Both Mom and Jack kept encouraging it, since Chad was following similar footsteps in politics like my father.

I should have known better. Though I wished Chad had enough decency to at least acknowledge and tell me it wasn’t working anymore before he went and slept with one of Margaret’s girlfriends. That was shitty, but men tended to do shitty things, I guess. Maybe my instinct warned me all along not to trust Chad, to keep him at bay.

After all, my instinct was what helped me survive all the tense situations I had found myself in ever since my father had left me his little side rescue business, The Rose Rescue. Though I gave it its current name. I scoffed in my mind. A prime minister running a side business. Somehow you never thought you’d hear those two together. Yet, it was true. Before his political career, Dad had seen some shit. He thought he’d make a difference becoming the prime minister. He did, but not as much as he wanted to. So he reached out to some of his buddies and started a rescue mission with the information he was able to obtain due to his position. But diplomacy played into rescuing innocents too often. Border crossing. Foreign territory. Foreign rules. Days dicking around to this or that ambassador. When legal hands were tied or slow, he’d save the women the illegal way. And I got it all, on my eighteenth birthday.

Anyhow, back to Chad. I didn’t say anything to Margaret about his cheating ass. She’d go after him and gut him, or at least put a bullet in him since she hated knives. It would be entertaining to watch, but none of us needed any drama right now.

Geez, we’d become bloodthirsty over the last few years. Truth was that seeing how cruel men could be and the way they took advantage of vulnerable women made us determined never to be vulnerable.

But my inability to feel comfortable with a man’s touch was one thing I didn’t talk to anyone about. Including Margaret and definitely not my mother.

“Is this your interpretation of a bachelorette weekend?” I asked her. Her wedding wasn’t for another eight weeks or so, but with our crammed schedules, it turned out to be the only weekend we could celebrate.

“Yes, our wild weekend before I get hitched.” She frowned, a crease between her brows showing her displeasure about it. She hated the idea of an arranged marriage. I didn’t blame her; I would have hated it too.

She called this our wild weekend. Every time we did one of her wild weekends, we got into trouble. I loved her and she was always there for me, but her energy levels were dangerous at times. It was the reason I pulled her into my little organization, to burn some of that energy and do good at the same time.

Her secretive marriage was mind boggling. She didn’t give me a name because she didn’t know it. When she told me it was an arranged marriage, my mouth just about dropped. Ever since she found out about it, her wild parties had gotten reckless. I tried to be there with her whenever I could. I didn’t want anything happening to her. She would do the same for me.

Her phone rang. When she didn’t move, just kept turning around, checking out her ass in the mirror, I asked her with humor in my voice, “Are you going to answer that or is your ass just so interesting?”

She looked up and our eyes met in the mirror. “It's my uncle.”

Ah, so she was avoiding him. I shrugged. It was her business, and when she wanted to talk about it, she would.

The next second, my phone rang. I guessed who it was, but just to confirm my suspicion, I reached for it. It was my stepfather. I couldn’t ignore him like Margaret did, so I slid the answer button.

“Hi, Jack,” I greeted him.

“Áine, where is Margaret?” Jack went straight to business, his tone sharp and hard. He was in his head of the Irish mafia mode.

“Hello to you too,” I retorted dryly. “She is getting ready and can’t come to the phone right now.”

Yes, I covered for her. She covered for me too. That was what friends did for each other. And she was so much more than that, family by my mother’s marriage to Jack.

“I bet she can’t,” he muttered, probably guessing she was avoiding him. “Tell her I do not want to see another hundred thousand dollar gambling debt come through.”

I cringed. I didn’t realize Margaret found time to gamble, never mind lose a hundred grand.

“Sure, I’ll tell her,” I assured him, giving a pointed look to Margaret who was back to checking her ass.

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