Page 23 of Dirty Padraig: Dirty Dusters

He wants me to be his good girl, but I’m not a good girl. I’m a bad girl. I’m a very bad girl.

Our almost-living together has revealed a somewhat turbulent relationship. I guess it was to be expected. The signs were all there, given how highly charged things had been between us over the years.

We’d purposely go out of our way to point score. We’re both strong-willed and opinionated people. That reality has called for many heated exchanges and resulted in a lot of angry fucking.

I’m not complaining about the hot mobster sex, but is what we have conducive to a long-term relationship?

Eoin is dominating and assertive. I suspect to complement him, he needs someone submissive and compliant. Unfortunately for him, I’m neither of those two things.

We need to find a balance. I won’t compromise myself for anyone, even if I do love them.

I didn’t with Irish. I didn’t with Ace.

Everything is fine until it’s not, but there’s no gradual. It switches instantly from one extreme to the other. Right now we’re not arguing, but we will be imminently.

We’d typically spend the afterglow finding out more about each other. Or at least I’d find out more about him, given he knows pretty much everything there is to know about me. Apart from my secret, that is. It’s a time when his guard is down, and I encourage him to dig deep to share a locked-away memory.

I want to know everything there is to know about him. I love that he lets me strip away his layers each time to reveal something deeper and more personal. He’s never let his walls down for anyone before now. Each bare admission makes me love him even more.

Today, it’s deathly silent, and it’s because I’m feeling tense.

I have to broach the subject of Fletch’s reunion. I know it will turn into an issue even before I open my mouth.

Ever since the trouble brought itself to New York, Eoin hasn’t wanted to let me out of his sight. I don’t know how much more of his over-protectiveness I can take. I’m sure most women would be only too happy to wallow in a sea of attention and possessiveness, but I’m not most women. I’m drowning.

Even when we’re not physically together, he’s trying to control my movements. Pretty soon, I won’t be able to visit the restroom without him insisting that either he or Dec go with me.

I get it, in part, at least.

After what happened with Fin, we’re all still on high alert. I appreciate and agree that the kids need to remain on lockdown pretty much twenty-four-seven. On a property this extensive, where there’s plenty of indoor and outdoor space, that’s not such a problem for a child.

But the way things are shaping up, and with our enemy continuing to remain faceless, I know it’s not going to be long before Eoin insists I do the same.

And I can’t do that. I won’t do it. I need to be able to live my life.

I understand that if I’m not under lock and key, and if someone wants me dead, I will be. I’m a sniper. I know how easy it is to dispatch someone from afar. But that’s my choice to make.

“One of my old classmates from Yale has been in contact. He’s holding a reunion. He’s asked if I’ll go, and I’ve said that I will.”

The baton of tension passes from me to him as the fingers that were gently stroking my shoulder stop.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Jaine, given the risks we’re all currently facing.” His response is calm. For now.

“It’s at The Meeting Rooms. I’m sure it will be fine.”

“Then I must insist on going with you.”

“I would be happy for you to do that, but I’ve already checked your calendar. You’re in Chicago that day.”

“Then I think it’s best that you don’t go.”

The baton passes straight back to me.

“I’ve already RSVP’d.”

“Jaine….”

I sit upright. “I don’t have to take orders from you, Eoin.”

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