Illicit Temptation (Astoria Royals #3)

CHAPTER FIVE

Shea - East Hampton - Present Day - August

B ig girls don’t cry.

And this O’Rourke woman is ready to scream.

Anger floods my veins, absorbing the last goddamn thing I want to hear.

“Another year? You can’t get divorced for another year?” I bellow to Archer, my voice vibrating off the glass walls of the exclusive Hampton Isles oceanfront party room.

Guests will be strolling in soon, and Archer is giving me this news while I’m working an afternoon retirement party. Likely, so I can’t make a scene. What a snake.

“The courts are backed up,” he argues, his voice flat.

“I would think a man with your power can get around that. Sounds like you need a better lawyer.”

“I just need you to wait a little bit longer.”

“I’ve been waiting for eight years.” God, as I say that, I see how pathetic I’ve been.

Archer looks me up and down, like my backtalk startled him. “I wouldn’t call what you’re doing here in East Hampton waiting.”

“What does that mean?” I fold my arms.

“Living a life of glamour, throwing parties for your celebrity friends. Your fifteen-hour work days, always glued to your damn phone, taking calls in the middle of the night from hysterical bitches, flying off to Paris to go fucking wedding dress shopping. Do you think I want a wife who puts anything before me?”

I stagger back, shocked into a rare spell of silence hearing how he feels about my career after all this time. Not to mention the venomous tone he dares to speak to me in. Even if he’s one hundred percent right in describing my life .

“You’re missing one piece of that puzzle, Archer,” I ground out. “ I have nothing else in my life .”

Hearing those words come out of my mouth, I’m filled with regret. It’s not entirely true anymore. My brothers have kids now. And I recently got back from Seattle where I spent a week with Darragh and his precious little Sophie. I still can’t believe Darragh’s wife left him. And her child!

I love being the cool aunt. The squeeze of little arms around my neck is a bittersweet thrill. But I get choked up, thinking that’s all I’ll ever be. Fibroids are overtaking my uterus, and my new specialist has been advocating for me to get a hysterectomy for two years.

But if I do, it’s the end of the line. I’ll never have kids. No man will want me. That’s why Archer Crest is the perfect man for me since he has kids. It’s also why I can’t stay married to Trace Quinlan, wherever the hell he is.

Trace is young, virile, and can have anyone. Not that I ever heard from him again.

Which bothered me. We have some crazy unfinished business. That night in Las Vegas was three years ago. We made a mistake. I moved on. And apparently, so did Trace.

Only Arthur is once again dragging his feet with another delay to divorce the woman he said he can’t stand.

He gave me some half-ass excuse three years ago about being in New York when he was supposed to be with me in Vegas. I’d spent the night with another man between my legs, so I told myself I had one-upped him.

Archer and I had a good relationship at one time. When he wasn’t lying to me. Or...using me. I had been holding on to the hope that we would rekindle that, but that hope has been dying a slow death. All while my chance at having a family of my own is also fading. I can’t get pregnant without a uterus .

Cool Aunt forever, it is...

Yelling at Archer increases the sinister frown on his mouth. A scowl I’ve never seen.

“I’ll tell you what you do have...” He strides toward me. “A big fucking mouth. Do you think I want that in a wife?”

I laugh. Men want strong women, my ass.

“What? Can’t handle a little backtalk from a woman?”

“Careful, Shea-Lynne...”

What the hell am I holding on to with Archer? Yeah, we had a hot and heavy beginning. But it’s clearly over. I’ve been a fool long enough. I haven’t even climaxed from sex with Archer since...Trace. I shake that thought away and block his face from my mind.

“You know what? I don’t have time for a man who makes deals with African crime lords for his diamond mines, but can’t get a wife to agree to his divorce terms.” I point. “Get the fuck out. I’m done with you.”

His eyes flare with anger. “No one talks to me that way. Not even a spoiled cunt with murderers for brothers.”

I slap him across the face for the cunt comment. Not about my brothers, because, yeah, they are murderers. But so are his.

It happens so fast, Archer raises his hand to me, but the sound of a gun clicking drags red wild eyes to a long steel barrel hovering less than a foot from Archer’s head.

“Touch a fucking hair on her head and you die,” Trace Quinlan says from behind me.

Oh my God! Where the hell did he come from?

Archer wisely lowers his hand. “Do you know who I am, punk?”

“Archer Crest,” Trace says, gun still cocked. “Those with blood on their hands shouldn’t dare raise them to a precious angel with a heart pure as white snow and a bodyguard who’s got more kills than her murderous brothers combined. ”

Christ, how much did he hear? And he has more kills than my brothers? Even Lachlan?

Wow.

Wait, did Trace just say he’s my bodyguard?

This is who Lachlan sent to cover for Soren, who suddenly needed two days off?

There are so many reasons I don’t want Trace Quinlan guarding me. He’ll have me walking into walls, he’s so freaking gorgeous. That blue suit looks molded to his body.

And it will come out that we’re married. Frig my life, it’s been hell these past three years keeping this secret.

That secret emboldened me when Archer and I made love, though, that I too was married to someone else. I didn’t have any memory of sex with Trace, I never had another orgasm with Archer. In fact, I’ve been unconsciously putting distance between us. And this is the result. He’s delaying the divorce. For all I know, he’s gotten back with his wife and thinks he can keep me as his side piece.

Nope. Not happening.

“You don’t scare me,” Archer hisses to Trace.

“Then let me tell you a little more about myself. I think I’ll change your mind.” Trace smiles and from inside his jacket, he takes out a silencer. His eyes stay on Archer as he mockingly screws it to the tip of his gun barrel. “My brother Rhys will help me cut up your body, and her brother Balor will wipe your existence from every public record. Even your own brothers will be scratching their heads questioning if you’ve been a mirage all forty miserable years of your pathetic life.” He steps closer to Archer, who reaches inside his own jacket.

Oh no...

Trace aims his gun at Archer’s crotch. “The name’s Quinlan. I pledged my loyalty to the O’Rourkes. I’m willing to die for this lovely lass. Do you want to lose your cock over her?”

With Trace’s point-blank aim, Archer wisely drops his hands.

“This is another reason why you and I would never work,” Archer mutters boldly. Closing his jacket, he storms away, jamming my shoulder and knocking me off balance.

Trace catches me but lifts his gun again.

I step in front of him, stabbing his shirt with my fingernail, the tip hitting thick pecs. “Do not kill him.”

Trace’s lips snarl with that penetrating golden gaze right on me. “Step aside, princess.”

My chest heaves, thinking he’s just ignoring me. “Trace—”

Those ringed, tattooed fingers I remember land on my mouth, his face close to mine. “I’m not going to kill him.”

“He’s involved in the blood diamond trade. He has dangerous allies,” I argue and tug Trace’s jacket, sparks flying up my arm.

“I’m just as dangerous, and I consider your brothers my allies. You know better than anyone they’re not choir boys.” He grips my finger. “Where’s your wedding ring, wife?”

I snap my hand back. “We need to talk.”