Perfect Sinner by Maggie Cole

6

Gemma

When I wake up,it's black. Nolan has his limbs wrapped around me, and I'm confused. I don't move while trying to remember how I got in his bed, lying on his warm, hard flesh.

I was contemplating killing myself.

She wouldn't stop.

Jesus, he saw.

Shame fills me as the memories of last night flood me. I slowly lift my head. Nolan's eyes are closed, and he's breathing softly. I attempt to move, and he tightens his arm around me.

I have to get out of here.

I wait several more moments then carefully untangle my body from his. I manage to slip away to creep out of his bedroom and down the hall to mine. When I step inside, I freeze.

Sunlight shines through the window. I never pulled the shades down and realize Nolan must have his blackout curtains pulled down in his room. It's later than I assumed. Pills cover the floor next to my bed. My phone is off, and I panic. I quickly turn it on. It's one of Orla's rules. My phone is to stay on at all times. While it's firing up, I kneel and pick up the pills.

"What are you doing?" Nolan's voice growls.

I inhale sharply and freeze. I close my eyes, embarrassed. I avoid looking at him and clear my throat. "Cleaning up my mess."

The screen of my phone illuminates, and he races over and snatches it off the bed. "You're getting a new phone number."

"No. I can't. It's her rule. She's going to come after me for turning it off last night," I fret. I finally look at him, and my pulse picks up. As embarrassed as I am, Nolan, in nothing but boxers, is a hard man to tear your eyes away from. His torso of ripped perfection has Celtic knots with a large cross tattooed down the side. The same side has Celtic arrows pointed down and outlining his V.

Jesus.

"She's not coming near you. And that includes communicating with you," he claims.

My insides quiver, and I refocus my attention off his body. I blurt out, "You don't understand. The last time I turned my phone off, I woke up with rodents and bugs on top of me."

His face hardens, and I assume he's mad at me again. "She's not getting to you here. The O'Malleys are protecting you."

I pick up more pills, but my hand is shaking from the feeling of mice and spiders crawling on me. Several pills miss the container and fall back on the floor.

Nolan kneels next to me and takes the bottle. He softly says, "Let me do this."

"No. It's my mess." I hold my trembling hand out. "Give me my phone so I can see if she sent me something I have to respond to her about."

His eyes turn to slits. "Absolutely not. You're never talking to her again."

I close my eyes in frustration and exhale through my nose. "It's not—"

"You were going to kill yourself. This isn't up for debate," Nolan barks.

So much humiliation fills me, I cover my face. I manage to get out, "Can you let me clean this up and leave, please?"

He doesn't reply. I don't move, trying to figure out how to get past the embarrassment. He gently says, "We need to talk."

I remove my hands from my face. The pills are in the bottle, and he's still gripping my phone, except it's turned off. I shake my head. "I'm sorry she got to me last night. It won't happen again. Let's drop it."

He studies me and firmly says, "No. We're talking about this."

My shame turns into anger. I rise off the floor. "No, we aren't. You aren't my therapist."

"Who is?" he asks, rising off the floor.

I spin to leave, but he reaches for my upper arm. I angrily spout, "Nolan—"

"Who's your therapist, Gemma?"

"I don't have one. What would I say? My psychotic half-sister is threatening to kill me and is part of the mob?" I blurt out.

He clenches his jaw.

I lower my voice. "Thank you for taking care of me. I'm fine. Next topic."

"You can't let her get to you."

"Jesus, Nolan. Do you think this is a choice for me? You think I like being this weak woman I never was before she came into my life?"

"You aren't weak."

A sarcastic laugh bursts out of me as I wipe the tear falling off my cheek. "I know me before this, and I know me now. I'm just trying to hold on. And until you know what that's like, don't tell me what's weak or not." I point to myself. "This isn't the person I was or want to be. So, if you can drop this conversation and let me be humiliated in peace, I'd appreciate it."

Sympathy fills his expression.

"I don't need your pity, either, Nolan."

He keeps his intense gaze on me. "What do you want me to do, Gemma? Act like this never happened?"

"Yeah."

"Not possible. You scared the shit out of me."

"Sorry. It won't happen again." I attempt to grab my phone, but he holds it in the air. I jump up, but he's too tall. "Nolan!"

"You'll get your phone back when I remove all this crap she's sent you. Until then, you aren't looking at it. And I'm blocking her," he demands.

Pains shoot through my heart. "Do you not listen?"

"I think you're the one not hearing me. I said she can't get to you here," he claims.

I put my hand on my hip. "You're arrogant. She can get to me anywhere. She's proven it dozens of times."

"The O'Malleys weren't watching you. She hasn't come near you since Liam added protection to you. Now, get dressed," he rants.

"Don't boss me around."

He raises his eyebrows. "You want your morning acid?"

I roll my eyes. "Coffee is not—"

"You've got ten minutes." He walks out of the room, taking my phone and the pill bottle. The door shuts.

I close my eyes and take a few deep breaths.

The door reopens, and I glance at him. He grabs my purse and dumps the contents on the bed.

"What are you doing?" I cry out.

He ignores me, unzips the inside pockets, then tosses the bag on the bed. He goes into the closet and opens the suitcase.

"Nolan!"

"These are your pills, not mine. You got any more?" he asks. He pulls my duffle bag off the shelf and rummages through it.

"Please, stop!" Tears fall down my cheeks. This is beyond embarrassing. I had one bottle of headache tablets. It was the only thing I could think of that was in my room. I was too scared to leave it last night with him gone.

He ignores my plea and checks my shoes, further humiliating me. I finally think he's going to leave, but he doesn't. He pulls all my clothes out of the dresser.

"Stop!" I beg again, but he doesn't.

He puts the clothes back in the drawers and the items in my purse. I think he's finished, but he's not. He checks my pillows then lifts the mattress.

"Why are you doing this?" I sob.

He puts the mattress back on the box spring then spins. His green flames flare into mine. "You're under my roof. Under my protection. I'll be damned if you're going to do something stupid under my watch."

I fire back, "You're released of your duties. I'll go back to my mom's."

"No. You won't. And you have two choices. Get dressed, and you get coffee. Otherwise, attempt to have a temper tantrum and pack. I'll tie your ass up and force-feed you if I have to, so help me God, Gemma. Make your choice. You have ten minutes." He spins and storms out of the room.

I sit on the bed, with my hand covering my face, wondering how I got here. How is this my life when I had everything going for me?

"Three minutes," Nolan yells through the door.

I finally succumb and put on yoga pants, a T-shirt, and a sweatshirt. I throw my hair in a bun and stare at my tear-stained cheeks in the mirror. My eyes are bloodshot. I splash cold water on my face.

Nolan comes barging into the room. "Time's up."

"Can I put my socks and shoes on?"

He motions for me to leave the bathroom, and I glare at him when I pass by. I finish getting ready and take a pair of oversized sunglasses out of my bag. I go into the kitchen. He picks up two smoothie cups off the counter then guides me out to the car.

I get in and buckle my seat belt.

Nolan slides into the driver's seat, puts one drink in the cup holder, then hands me the other smoothie. "Drink this."

"I'm not eating raw eggs."

"I didn't put it in yours. Now, drink."

"Stop bossing me around."

He sighs, runs his hand through his hair, and turns toward me. "There are going to be some new rules in this house."

"I'm not your child."

He snorts. "Then stop acting like one."

"Can you stop this? I'm already embarrassed enough." I swipe my finger under my glasses.

He lowers his voice. "You aren't talking to her again. I don't care what she threatened you with. She's not getting to you. And you're going back to eating and working out. Until we track her down and I kill her, there's plenty of opportunities for marketing and branding work from home. I'll help you find them. You aren't going to sit around and waste away."

I gape at him.

"Got any questions?"

"You're-you're going to kill her?" I stutter. It's what I wanted Liam to do, but hearing him say it sends a shock through my system.

"Yeah. Next topic."

My stomach flips. "How?"

"I said, next topic. Are we clear on what you'll be doing?" he asks.

It's not a secret the O'Malleys are dangerous, but Nolan's so confident in his statement, I blurt out, "You've killed people before?"

His face hardens. He holds the smoothie in front of me again. "Half of this needs to be drunk before we go into the cafe. I suggest you start now."

"Can we go back to you not talking to me like I'm a child?"

His lips twitch. "I'll think about it. Now, drink."

"You're such a dick."

He turns the car off, crosses his arms, and leans his head against the headrest.

"What are you doing?" I ask.

He rolls his head toward me. "Now you're going to drink all of it before we leave."

I reach for my seat belt, and he grabs my hand. "If you attempt to get out of this car, my threat to tie you to a chair and force-feed you will come to fruition. I'm not joking, Gemma. I don't make threats I don't follow through on. Now, drink your smoothie, or you're not getting coffee today."

As much as I want to fight him, I don't want to test him and see if he's bluffing. I mutter, "So my mom was right. I am your prisoner."

Hurt crosses his face, but he quickly recovers. "Five minutes to finish it, or we're getting out of the car and you'll receive the consequences."

I let out a frustrated breath and drink the smoothie. It's a perfect combination of sweet and savory, but I don't tell Nolan. When I finish, I glare at him. "Happy now?"

"Yep." He sets his empty cup in the holder and gives me a satisfied smile. "It's good, isn't it?"

I grip the cup tighter so I don't slap him. "No. It was gross. Can we get my coffee now?"

"Acid, coming right up," he mutters and starts the car. We ride in silence. When he parks, I reach for the door handle.

"Don't open it!" he exclaims.

"Why?"

"I told you. You don't go outside without being given the all clear," he reminds me.

I release the handle and sit back. He gets out, comes around, then opens the door. He reaches in to help me out and tugs me into him. As much as I want to push him away, I don't. I sink into him and let him lead me inside with his arm wrapped around me as if I'm his.

The line is like the other morning. He keeps his arm protectively around me. I recognize a man's face from the previous day, and my body stiffens.

Nolan leans down to my ear. "Relax, princess. It's my cousin."

I tilt my head, and his mouth is only inches from mine. "Is it that obvious I'm paranoid?"

He shakes his head. "No. Now, what are you ordering today?"

"Same as yesterday."

"Large acid long?" He cocks an amused eyebrow.

I bite my smile. "Have you never had coffee?"

"Nope. It's bad for you."

"There are plenty of studies to show it's good for you," I claim.

His eyes dart to my lips. "Is that how you convince yourself? You read some study published by some kook on the internet?"

I groan. "You're very annoying."

"I'm—"

"Look who's back. Good morning. What can I get you, doll?" the barista chirps.

Nolan's arm tightens around me. He growls, "Did we not have this conversation yesterday?"

"Nolan," I reprimand, but deep down, I kind of like his super possessive, jealous side. It's one of the reasons I've always fallen for the bad boys.

The barista ignores Nolan. "What can I get you?"

"Double espresso long, please," I reply.

"Same as yesterday. Got it." He punches the order into the system. He gives me a big grin. "Those glasses are hot on you, doll. And sorry, I didn't catch your name yesterday."

"Nolan. And you're really asking for it," Nolan growls.

The barista smirks at Nolan then returns to the screen.

Nolan shoves six dollars at him and doesn't wait for his change. He guides me to the end of the counter, seething.

I tell him, "You need to chill."

"That guy is a douchebag."

Just to get under Nolan's skin, I study the barista. I tilt my head. "Hmm."

"What does that mean?" Nolan asks.

"I don't know. He's kind of cute," I say.

Nolan's eyes widen. "You have to be kidding me."

I shrug. "He has the I'm-almost-thirty-and-cocky thing down."

"Bet he doesn't even know what to do with his cock," Nolan mutters.

I hold in a laugh.

A female barista yells out, "Double espresso long for Doll."

Nolan's eyes turn to flames. The male barista glances at him and throws him an arrogant smile.

"That's it." Nolan picks up my drink, escorts me to the car, and opens my door.

"Is there a fire somewhere?" I ask.

He grunts.

I get in the car then he shuts the door and walks around to the other side. He gets in, starts the car, and drives the opposite way we came.

"Where are we going?"

"To the store."

"For what?" I ask.

"An espresso machine. I'm not having that dickhead check you out every morning," he states.

I take a sip of my coffee and try to ignore my flutters. I turn toward Nolan. "Why do you care?"

He glances at me but only momentarily then refocuses on the road. He doesn't answer my question.

I decide it's time to turn the tables on Nolan. I've been embarrassed all morning. It's his turn. "Does this have to do with you stealing my panties?"

A faint blush creeps up his neck. "Told you I don't know anything about that."

"Are you saying someone else was in your house while I was sleeping? Should I be worried, or is one of your cousins a panty thief?" I innocently ask.

"Maybe they're under the bed," he offers.

"Hmm. Since you ransacked my room today, I think we would have found them," I add.

He veers into the other lane then turns in to a parking lot.

I ask again, "So why do you care so much about the barista checking me out?"

"It's rude." He pulls into a parking spot.

"It's not if it doesn't offend me," I reply.

He shuts the car off and turns toward me. "Are you into him?"

I snort. "Not at all."

Relief fills his face.

Once again, I ask, "Why do you care?"

He opens his mouth then shuts it. He licks his lips, stares at mine, then gets out of the car. He opens my door, leads me into the store and down the coffee maker aisle.

I reach for a cheap one, and he puts his hand on the box. "This isn't an espresso machine."

I shrug. "It'll work."

He shakes his head, looks around, then guides me into the next row. He points to a huge box. "This work?"

I stare at the price tag. "That's over a thousand dollars!"

"Will it make what you drink?" he asks.

"I guess, but a normal coffee machine is fine," I reiterate.

He grunts. "If you want espresso, you're getting espresso, princess."