Perfect Sinner by Maggie Cole

18

Gemma

"Gemma, stop pacing,"Aspen orders.

I stop in front of the window. All of Chicago blinks against the dark night sky. My insides haven't stopped quivering since Nolan left. The sound of that man's Irish voice, along with his piercing eyes, brought up all the flashbacks of him threatening me. I remind myself he was tied up, and Nolan is the one in control, but I can't seem to shake the feeling something bad is going to happen.

Music blares through the room, and Aspen picks her phone up. She answers, "Maksim."

I race over to her.

She smiles at me. "You are?"

My heart beats faster. What if Nolan's hurt? Or he found out where Orla is and he's going after her now?

"Okay. See you in a few hours. Love you." Aspen hangs up and says, "Everything is fine. They handled the situation and are going for a drink."

"A drink?"

She nods. "That's what Maksim said."

"Is that normal after these types of situations?" I ask.

She bites on her lip and shakes her head. "No. But they're fine, not anywhere near the environment they were in, and will be home in a few hours." She slides her arm around my shoulder. "You can relax now. Why don't we have a drink, too?"

"No. You go ahead. I've had too many margaritas to count," I admit.

Aspen's eyes light up. "Ohh. Where from?"

"Miguel's."

She groans. "I'm so jelly. Those are the best. Did you get the dirty nachos?"

Thoughts of Nolan licking nacho sauce off my lips make me smile. "Yeah."

Aspen takes my hand and pulls me to the couch. "Sit." She grabs a blanket. As soon as I obey, she joins me and puts the throw over our legs. She leans in. "Okay. Now that we know they're okay, tell me what's going on between you and Nolan."

"Nothing," I lie. Aspen and Hailee have been best friends for as long as I can remember. Nolan and I don't even know what's going on between us. Talking about it with my sister's bestie doesn't seem like a good idea.

"Oh, come on," Aspen whines. "You looked like you were having a blast on St. Paddy's Day, and everything was great until Molly showed up."

"Ugh! Don't mention that little brat!"

Aspen holds her hands in the air. "Sorry." She wiggles her eyebrows. "Let's just talk about Nolan, then."

My pulse pounds in my neck. I turn to her. "Do you tell my sister everything?"

Aspen's lips twitch. "I don't have to."

I tilt my head. "Seriously. I don't want Hailee to know anything. I don't want to hear her lecture me about him or any other part of my severely screwed-up life."

Sympathy fills Aspen's expression. She softly says, "Your life isn't screwed up."

I blink hard. "Really? Has Hailee told you everything about who we are?"

Aspen nods. "Yes. She told me how it all came out and that your mom didn't ever tell you who your dad was. And she's really worried about you."

Tears fill my eyes. "She doesn't know the half of it."

Aspen's voice fills with concern. "What do you mean?"

Shame consumes me. "Nothing."

"Gemma—"

I rise. "Can I take a shower? I still smell like Miguel's."

Aspen gives me a small smile. "Sure."

"Thanks." I go down the hall and into the bedroom Aspen had me put my bag in when I arrived. There's an attached bathroom, and I turn on the water. I strip then study myself in the mirror.

My face looks like it's aged ten years. Little worry lines are now etched in the corner of my blue orbs. They weren't there nine months ago. My bloodshot eyes are probably from the alcohol. But before Nolan, they looked like this a lot from not sleeping. My body isn't in nearly as good of shape as it used to be. I've lost a lot of the muscle I worked hard to develop. Many people would look at me and not understand why it bugs me. I can put on any undergarments and nothing looks terrible to the ordinary person. But I know what I've lost. And I don't feel like me inside this body anymore.

I step into the shower, letting the hot water soak my hair. The stench of tequila and weed mix with the steam. I didn't smoke any, but it's one of the parting gifts you get when you leave Miguel's.

There are several bottles of shampoo. I smell them all and choose one with lavender in it, hoping it'll calm my nerves. I rinse, condition, then continue to let the hot water beat down on me.

When I finally get out, I brush my teeth and comb my hair. I debate about wearing the outfit I brought for tomorrow or Nolan's T-shirt, which is screaming for me to put it on. But since Nolan is coming back in a few hours, I opt for my yoga pants and an oversized sweatshirt.

Aspen's always been in my life, and I love her, but I don't want to answer her questions about Nolan right now. So I sit on the bed and open my laptop, wondering if anyone is looking to hire me.

I open my email, and my gut drops. There's only one new message besides all the junk emails. It's from Orla. There are only two sentences.

She killed her. You will all pay.

I swallow the bile rising in my throat and stare at the screen. Then it hits me that I don't even know if Orla is telling the truth. Was her mother even murdered?

I pull up my search bar and type in, Riona Ryan of North Carolina.

My stomach pitches so fast, I have to put my hand over my mouth. A picture of a woman resembling Orla fills the screen. Article after article discusses how authorities discovered her dead body from a drug bust gone wrong.

The date of her death might as well be a flashing neon sign. I know that date. My mother had a wall calendar to keep all our activities straight. Each year, she marked January fifth with a number. It increased each new calendar. One year, it said ten. I realized it was the anniversary of when she left my father. And each time it rolled around, my mother would buy herself a bottle of wine and drink the entire thing. Besides January fifth, my mother usually didn't consume alcohol.

I get so engrossed in reading article after article, I don't realize how much time has passed. The door opens, and Nolan stumbles in.

I close the laptop and jump up. "Hey! Are you okay?"

His green eyes drill into mine. In a low voice, he says, "I fucked up, Gemma."

I reach for his cheeks. "What do you mean?"

He shakes his head. Guilt fills his expression. "I don't know where she's at."

My gut sinks. "It's okay."

"No. It's not." He slides a lock off my forehead then tugs my hair. His finger traces my lips. "Do you know how pretty you are?"

My flutters kick off. I bite on my smile. "What have you been drinking?"

He rolls his eyes. "Vodka. I was with the Russian."

I laugh. "Are we staying here or going home?"

He palms my ass and tugs me into him. Then he dips his face over mine. "I like that you call my house home."

My butterflies go crazy, and I reprimand myself. He's drunk. I shouldn't think twice about anything he says. I repeat, "Are we going there or staying here?"

He scans the room then leans into my ear. His tongue flicks my lobe, and when he talks, his lips graze it. "I prefer you in my bed, princess. Don't you prefer to be in it?"

"Yeah," I say truthfully.

"When I'm there or on your own?" He arches an eyebrow.

I caress the sides of his head. "With you."

"Good. Let's go home, then." He brings his lips to mine, slides his tongue in my mouth, and massages his fingers on my scalp. "You're my light, princess," he mumbles then fucks me with his tongue.

"Mmm." I'm jelly in his arms, his to claim and possess all he wants. Drunk, sober, it doesn't matter. Any part of him he'll give me, I want. And whenever I'm with him, all the realities of my life— like what DNA is swirling in my body and Orla's latest threat—all seem to disappear.

"You taste like toothpaste," he claims.

"You taste like vodka," I reply then return to kissing him.

He retreats, studies me, and strokes the side of my head. "I mean it, Gemma. You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen."

I can't help but smile. "You're drunk."

"No, I'm not."

I raise my eyebrows.

He grins. "Drunk over you, princess."

I laugh. "Now you're getting corny."

"I'm Irish. I'm supposed to be drunk and corny in love." He slides his hand in my pants, palming my ass, and tugs me against his erection.

My pulse skyrockets as he assesses me more. He's drunk, and he didn't say he loves me. He just said supposed to be, I tell myself.

He lightly kisses my forehead, under my eyes, nose, and lips. Then he steps away, picks up my bag, and puts my laptop in the case. He slings both over his shoulder then puts his arm around my lower back. His hot breath hits my neck, and his lips brush against my ear. "Let's go home and stay in bed all day tomorrow."

I tilt my head. "We don't have condoms."

He wiggles his eyebrows, removes his phone out of his pocket, and starts texting someone.

"What are you doing?" I ask.

He grunts, finishes, then announces, "Making Fergal go get extra-large condoms."

I bite on my smile. "Seriously?"

"Yep." He proudly grins. "Now, let's go." He guides me through Maksim's, we say goodnight, and go down to the car. As soon as the door shuts, he tugs me onto his lap, and his stomach growls.

I question, "Did you eat dinner?"

"No. Did you?"

"No."

He tilts his head and drags his finger over my breast. "You were supposed to make me dinner."

"I forgot all about that. This morning seems like forever ago," I admit.

His face darkens. "Yeah. So many good parts today. And so many bad ones."

I slide my hand through his hair. "Nolan, are you okay?"

He turns toward the window. "So close."

"What do you mean?"

"Rafferty. He knew where Orla is. But he died too soon." He turns back to me and sniffs hard. "At least I made his last minute more painful for ever hurting you and coming after the baby."

The hairs on my arms stand up. "Baby? Nolan, what are you talking about?"

He shakes his head. "Nothing. I'm drunk. Ignore me."

I firmly hold his cheeks. "Nolan, tell me right now what you meant."

He closes his eyes. When he opens them, the emotion swirling in them steals my breath. There's hatred, pain, and fear.

"Tell me," I insist.

He swallows hard. "He was stalking Nora, too. Orla wanted him to kidnap the baby."

A chill zaps me. It courses through every atom I have. I gape at him, my breath coming out in short bursts.

"Don't worry. Boris has iron-clad security on Nora. The baby won't be in any situation for Orla to take her."

"She can get to anyone," I state, convinced she's a ghost who can magically appear and disappear at her convenience.

Nolan's eyes turn to slits. "She will not get anywhere within a mile of my sister or her baby. Ivanovs and O'Malleys will make sure of it."

The car stops at a light. I glance out the window at the pedestrians walking around late at night. I used to do that. I never felt fear. Now, I wouldn't do it unless Nolan protectively had his arm around me and several of his men were following us. It's all because of Orla. If I don't stand a chance against her, how can a helpless baby? I quietly say, "You don't understand how she is. Once she sets her sights on something, she'll stop at nothing to destroy it. Do not let anyone in the hospital touch the baby unless Boris and Nora are there. Make sure the baby doesn't get put in the nursery."

Nolan sits up straighter. "Maksim and I already stopped at the hospital. Boris is aware."

A tiny bit of relief comes out in my shaky breath.

Nolan's face hardens further. His voice gives me more chills and also some comfort. He adamantly states, "I promise you, princess, if it's the last thing I do, I will have my day with Orla. And it will be her last one on earth."