The Irish Syndicate Book 1: Our Wicked Cravings
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M. L. Smith
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2,1M
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55
Chapter 1
MINA
Fidgeting with the silk tie on her mask, Mina Fitzpatrick turned down a decadent hallway in the underground sex club. Dark-red velvet covered the walls, the black trim blending in beautifully with the onyx tile beneath her stilettos.
She shouldnât be here.
She should be soaking in a nice, hot bath in her hotel room, relaxing from her long flight earlier that day. Instead, she stepped into a room filled with some of Bostonâs rich elite in various states of undress.
Different-sized masks covered their faces, obscuring their identities. Vulgar sex acts were being openly performed around her, some people reaching out to grab at her bare arms, intent on tugging her into something carnal.
Mina ignored the grasping hands, searching the room for her friend. She didnât know where Lucy had gone, but after less than an hour she was already eager to leave this place.
Why had she even come here?
This environment⊠It wasnât her.
Mina wasnât a prude, but she craved intimacy with her sexual partners. A connection. She wouldnât find that here.
She preferred a girlâs night in or visiting the theater when she needed to unwind, not venturing into a sex club in the heart of Boston.
But Lucille Hankins, her best friend, was the opposite of Mina. She was adventurous and carefreeâas much as she could be in the world they lived in.
Sheâd convinced Mina to come tonight, assuring her it would be a fun, anonymous experience.
That last part had tempted Mina far more than anything else.
If her mom knew where she was right now, sheâd lose her mind. Sheâd tell her stepfather, and then heâd tell Ronanâ
Donât think about that. Just find Lucy and tell her youâre leaving.
Mina scanned the crowd of people a second time, hoping to see Lucyâs long black hair or the lingerie set sheâd been wearing when theyâd been separated.
Nothing.
She didnât recognize anyone, each ornate face mask blending with the next.
At least Mina wouldnât have to worry about being recognized either. Sheâd spent the last five years in Irelandâfirst at a private school, and then college.
She hadnât even wanted to come back home. But right before graduation, her stepfather, Dougal, had called and demanded she return. Considering he was the boss of the Irish syndicate in Boston, she couldnât deny him.
Resigned, sheâd booked a one-way flight.
The life sheâd lived for half a decade wasnât really hers anyway.
Even in Ireland, sheâd still had guards watching her every move. Sheâd been away from home, but sheâd never been free.
Her degree was useless too. Women that belonged to the syndicate didnât get jobs. They married young and popped out babies, breeding the next line of made men who would eventually take over the syndicate.
It was a miracle sheâd even been allowed to attend college; Lucy had been forbidden. An even bigger miracle was that neither of them were married, though they were both of age.
Mina had a sinking suspicion her stepbrother had played a part in that.
I canât believe itâs been five years since Iâve seen him.
Her chest constricted, an old familiar ache flaring to life as memories assailed her.
Sheâd first met Ronan after her mother had announced her engagement to his father, Dougal.
Mina had been fifteen and Ronan had been a handsome and ripped twenty-two. Heâd had an aura about him that sheâd found irresistible. He was dangerous, ruthless, and protective, all qualities that had beckoned her like a moth to a flame.
Sheâd been smitten with him from the start, constantly following him around his fatherâs mansion, always pestering him with nonsensical questions. When sheâd turned sixteen, her questions had morphed into flirtingânot that heâd reciprocated.
Looking back on it now, her behavior was so embarrassing.
At least he never teased me about it.
No, heâd always treated her like a syndicate princessâsomeone to take care of and protect, which only made her fall deeper in love with him.
She hadnât loved anyone else since.
Mina pushed those memories aside, refusing to think about Ronan any longer. She stepped around a naked couple fucking on the floor, the moans and wet slaps of flesh causing small waves of desire to rise within her.
Despite her reservations about this place, there was something so erotic in witnessing such raw displays of sex. It made her core ache and her face heat.
Maybe she should find a random stranger and just have her way with him. Be as daring as Lucy, for once.
What would it be like to throw caution to the wind and just live for a few hours?
Wasnât that the point of coming here?
A small thrill went through her, but she doubted sheâd be brave enough to solicit a stranger for sex.
Mina stepped into another room, this one darker than the last.
A few men lounged on a long, backless sectional and some luxurious-looking loveseats, watching a naked woman on a small stage grind on a naked manâs lap as he groaned beneath her.
The woman probably would have been groaning too, if another manâs dick wasnât stuffed in her mouth. Still, what noises she could make were heavy with lust as she bounced on one erection and stroked the base of the other.
The spectacle made Minaâs breath catch.
She quickly looked away, scanning the new room for Lucy.
A man sprawled on one of the couches spotted her. He stood from the sectional and adjusted his suit jacket, his silver mask flashing in the low lighting as he approached her.
âLose your way, darlinâ? Or perhaps you know exactly who you were hoping to entertain tonight?â The man spoke with a thick Irish accent, not uncommon in Boston, but the tattoos on his hands and neck were out of place for a party like this.
In Bostonâs elite, visible ink like that would make someone an outcast, regardless of their wealth.
His words sank in, and it took all of Minaâs strength not to roll her eyes at his blatant ego.
Did he really think sheâd come here to seduce him? Even if she was looking for sex, he definitely wasnât her type. No, her type was brooding, powerful Irishmen who wanted nothing to do with her.
Mina shook her head, a strand of her red hair catching in the corner of her mask. âI was looking forââ
âI know who you were looking for,â he interrupted. âYou came in here dressed in that silky little number to catch his attention.â
He eyed her up and down, his stare focusing mainly on the swell of her breasts.
Who did this asshole think he was? And who did he keep referring to?
âIâm not interested,â Mina answered bluntly.
He snickered, his voice rising above the sounds of sex on the stage.
âDid you hear that, lads?â he called over his shoulder. âSeems the little temptress is too good for us.â
All eyes turned toward her then, including the participants on stage.
Mina took a hesitant step back before squaring her shoulders. She wouldnât allow anyone in here to intimidate her. She was a freaking Fitzpatrick, even if not by blood.
âBring her, Finan,â a deep Irish voice beckoned from the thronelike loveseat closest to the stage.
She looked in that direction, squinting into the darkness to make out the figure reclining comfortably in his seat. He sounded slightly familiar, but she was sure sheâd remember a brogue that deep and sensual.
The man she assumed was Finan grabbed her arm, pulling her roughly toward the figure.
âHey! Get your hands off me, jackass!â Mina gave a half-hearted struggle, not used to having to defend herself from creeps.
Usually there was a security detail provided to her, men trained to ensure no one touched herâbut sheâd slipped past them in her eagerness for a night out.
Now she regretted it.
âLet go!â she exclaimed indignantly.
Obliging her, Finan shoved her forward as he released her.
Mina fell to the floor, landing hard on her knees, her chest slamming into the edge of the loveseat. She hissed out in pain, her knees throbbing.
The sharp ache was probably why it took her a second too long to realize she was at the feet of the seductive stranger, his thick, muscular legs on either side of her.
Mina lifted her head, her eyes sweeping over every inch of him as the rest of the world faded from view. He wore a pair of black slacks, the sleeves of his white dress shirt rolled up to his elbows, revealing a plethora of tattoos covering his forearms.
He watched her from behind a black mask that covered his face aside from his lips and stubbled jaw. Green eyes stared down at her with such a fierce intensity her breath lodged in her throat.
For the briefest moment, an image of Ronan flashed through her mind.
This guy reminded her of him, but the Ronan she knew wasnât this buff, and he didnât have tattoos like this. His accent wasnât so thick, either. It was subtle, like the undertones of vanilla in a good glass of wine.
He rubbed a hand over his jaw, thick silver rings catching the lights from the stage.
The stranger was captivating and handsome, even though the air around him was malevolent. Dark.
Mina couldnât help but feel like a fly caught in a spiderâs web as he assessed her.
Even worse, her body responded to his inspection, her pulse beating heavily in her ears, her thighs clenching together as desire pooled low in her belly. She forgot all about the pain in her knees as they stared at one another.
She didnât know why she had such a reaction to himâsheâd seen plenty of handsome men beforeâbut a large part of her hoped he didnât find her lacking. She wanted him to want her, and the feeling was as baffling as it was genuine.
Maybe it was this placeâthe sex happening in every room, especially on the stage. Sheâd felt lust creeping in since sheâd gotten here, and while sheâd ignored it at first, now sheâd fixated that energy onto her stranger.
The room slowly shifted back into focus, all eyes on her and the man she knelt in front of. The sudden silence was so loud she could have heard a pin drop.
He leaned forward, trailing a finger over the swell of her breasts, making her hyperaware of the thin dress she wore. His touch traveled up to her neck, and then he fisted the gold necklace around her throat, using it to pull her closer.
Mina did as he silently commanded, not wanting him to break the chain. It was important to her. Her hands rested on his thighs, noting the way his muscles flexed under her palms.
âPretty trinket for a gorgeous woman. Expensive,â he murmured. âFrom your lover?â
âNo.â
His eyes narrowed dangerously. âFrom someone unimportant, then?â There was a sharp edge to his voice, and Mina felt, not for the first time, that sheâd bitten off more than she could chew.
âFrom my stepbrother.â
âThat doesnât answer my question, lass.â
âOf course heâs important to me. Heâs family.â
âA man doesnât purchase a necklace like this for family. An emerald as big as that snuggled in between two pert breasts? Thatâs a gift from a man staking a claim.â
Mina flushed, remembering all too well her last real encounter with Ronan.
âYouâre wrong.â Although Ronan had never played the part of her brother in any fashion, heâd never claimed her.
Instead, heâd sent her away to boarding school the first time sheâd ever pissed him off. She hadnât seen him since, and she genuinely believed he hated her, even though he sent her gifts like this necklace on special occasions.
The stranger cocked his head to the side, studying her intently. âAm I?â
Mina licked her suddenly dry lips, nervous that sheâd overstepped. âYes.â
He smirked, and her stomach clenched in anticipation. He looked over her shoulder. âLeave us.â
Mina heard several people shuffling out of the room. As she turned her head, the stranger grabbed her chin, holding her still as he spoke to the man behind her. âFinan. Youâll watch, but no touching.â
Whatâ
Minaâs eyes widened as she slowly realized her strangerâs intentions. Indignation, coupled with a fierce surge of desire, coursed through her. âFinan wonât be watching anything. If you think Iâm going to have sex with youââ
His fingers tightened on her chin, effectively cutting her off. âYouâve come here to fuck, angel, and Iâll be the one youâre with tonight.â
