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'Not as mean as this will be.' He stepped back and left my wetness empty as he zipped up his trousers. 'I don't want you touching yourself until I see you next.'
Squeezing my thighs together, I narrowed my eyes. 'You can't tell me not to touch myself.'
'I can. I just did.' The door opened as he pulled the handle before looking back at me with his masked face. 'And good girl for wearing my gift.'
'Wait,' I said as he left the room. 'How did you get into my house?'
But he was gone, and by the time I'd righted my underwear and dress and tried to follow him, he was nowhere to be seen.
With a sigh, a salty mouth and sodden thighs, I made for my Uber.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
MAC
The mansion was already abuzz with people as my siblings and I walked through the door. My black coat dripped puddles onto the marble floor of the main entry hall as I took it off and handed it over to a member of staff.
It had rained incessantly at Dad’s funeral, and I could imagine it tickling him no end to see us all stood around his grave soaked through. At last, we laid him to rest beside Mum. I just had to make it through the wake. We’d kept the funeral service small, just family and Dad’s closest associates, but the wake was a much bigger affair. The ground floor of our family mansion was teeming with people, from politicians to criminals. Not that there was a lot of difference there. Not for the politicians my dad knew well at any rate.
I checked in with my security staff, ensuring that everyone had been patted down for weapons and that the staff were monitoring for any upheaval. After Harold and my father’s deaths, tempers had simmered down amongst Scotland’s criminal elite, but rarely did time pass without someone deciding to try to help themselves to too much of the syndicate pie.
Satisfied with the arrangements, I made my way through the crowds, accepting condolences with a nod as I went.
I hated every minute.
The last thing I wanted was to have to grin and bear it through a sea of well-wishers, half of whom would gladly have shot my father themselves had Harold not done it.
I found my siblings in the library, a zone we’d had kept free in case we needed an escape.
It seemed bizarre to have us all in one room again. Only two years previously, we’d all lived under Dad’s roof and by his rules. Now Esther had moved to Spain with Alec, and she sat next to him on a red leather sofa reading a book softly to their daughter. Maeve rested against Cameron’s side, his arm looped around her shoulders protectively while Elias and Grace were nose deep in their phones. Ewen and Logan gave us glasses and poured some fifty-year-old Glengoyne whisky from Dad's private collection for us.
Even Gladys, Alec’s elderly neighbour who had absconded to Spain with them, was there, happily taking a glass and raising it to the sky.
‘To Dad,’ Logan said, his voice thick with emotion. ‘He’ll be reunited with Mum at last.’
‘If he’s not starting a new war with Harold in hell,’ Ewen said. Everyone held their breaths for a moment before laughter burst from them.
‘I think he’d be bored without someone to fight with,’ I added, taking a deep sip of the rich amber liquid and closing my eyes as the delectable burn scorched my throat. It was good stuff.
‘Still not coming home yet?’ Maeve asked Esther, who smoothed her daughter’s hair while her little eyes drooped.
‘Afraid not. We just love it there.’
‘Jock and Eva not fed up with you yet?’ I jibed, leaning back in a wingback chair as Logan topped up my drink.
Gladys let out a hearty chuckle. ‘Oh, they’ll never get fed up with them, they spoil the lot of them. Plus, Scotland’s not got a patch on the weather out there. Good for old bones.’
‘You should all come visit. There’s room in the inn for you all.’ Alec slipped an arm around Esther as she tipped her face up to him, smiling. It stung. I wanted Katie to look at me like that, as though I was the centre of her universe. Instead, I was a masked assailant, slinking in through open windows or opening doors with stolen keys. She didn’t even know it was me. It was hot to get her off, to feel her pant and sweat in my arms or on my face, but I wanted - no needed - more.
A raucous laugh brought me out of my reverie as Tommy stumbled into the room, with Katie trailing behind him.
‘God, you all look fucking miserable,’ he said, swiping Dad’s whisky and drinking it straight from the bottle. My fingers tensed against my glass, the tips whitening.
‘Katie, Tommy, nice to see you.’ Logan took the bottle from Tommy and pushed a glass into his hand, topping it up before placing the whisky bottle out of reach. ‘I don’t think we were expecting you.’
‘Sorry,’ Katie said, her voice lacking the warmth I so sorely missed hearing. Too timid. Too broken. ‘I had said I’d pop by to Maeve and Cameron, and Tommy wanted to tag along.’
‘Sick mansion,’ Tommy said. ‘Who get’s it now that your dad’s pegged it?’
