Plausible Deniability

Unfortunately, Niall knows about the meeting. He waits until evening falls, long after the others have left to do their rounds or gone to Bobby’s to drink the night away. Aila has just changed into a tank-top and cotton shorts when he appears on her phone screen and asks how it went.

Aila rolls her eyes as she makes her way onto the terrace, dropping to sprawl out on the lounger. “Hi, it’s nice to see you, too. I love you.”

He has the audacity to not look ashamed of himself. Instead, he grins brightly and repeats his question. Aila knows she won’t win this argument, so she tells him everything Ashton said—including his warning at the end. Niall’s amusement fades as he frowns down at the table he sits at.

“What do you think?” he asks after a long moment, and Aila turns her gaze to the stars overhead.

Being so far from the heart of the city means clear, unending skies. No light pollution to disrupt the inky canvas splattered with white. No traffic or citizens to break the quiet serenity.

She sighs and meets his eye through the video. “I’m... not sure. He seemed genuine, but that’s not really an indication of any ulterior motives he might have.”

“Darling?” he prompts when she falls silent, chewing on her bottom lip. “What is it?”

“I’m afraid that if we work with him like he’s asking, he’ll try to overextend his reach. And if he does, if we pull out, what’s to stop him from retaliating?”

“Those are good points. Sadly, we don’t have any reassurances or answers.” He blows out a breath. “I’ll talk to Ma about it.”

“Not your dad?”

He shakes his head before she finishes asking. “The less he knows, the better. I’d rather he know nothing until a decision is made.”

Aila agrees. If what Ashton said is true, Bobby will lose his temper. He might start a war in a desperate attempt to keep the power. It would have devastating consequences.

“So how do you think you handled your first meeting?”

Aila shrugs and slouches lower in her chair. “I think I did okay.”

She squirms under the intensity of his unimpressed stare. Finally, he sighs heavily and says he’ll just get the details from Harry—“since you’re being so modest,” he teases. Aila can’t stop her giggling even as she tells him to hush up.

“I miss you.”

“I miss you, too, darling.”

“I wish you were here,” she whispers, biting down on her lower lip, before she pushes to her feet and heads inside.

Niall’s eyes flash, darken. His voice grows huskier when he replies. “So do I. What would we do?”

Aila’s gut clenches as her heart begins to race. She crawls onto the bed to lean against the headboard, and her fingers trembles as she drags them along her collarbone. His jaw tics when she murmurs they would definitely be kissing.

“I’d strip you naked so I could see every inch of your body, so I can see what belongs to me. Me, and nobody else ever.” His eyes follow the trail of her hand along her breasts, and she smiles when his breath hitches. His own hand vanishes from view. “And I would slide my hands along your chest because I know you like that. You like me teasing your nipples.”

“Would you touch me? Make me hard just for you?”

Aila shakes her head and wishes she could swallow his groan. “Oh, no, love. I’d make you watch as I touched myself. Just like I’m doing now.”

His lashes flutter against his cheekbones, and she lets out a low moan as his arm moves more quickly. Pressing her fingertips firmly against herself, Aila lets her head fall back. He exhales sharply, just like she knew he would, when the action exposes her throat. He loves biting her neck.

“Then,” she gasps, “then I’d force you to your knees, my hand in your hair and the other holding onto the wall. You’d do it, wouldn’t you? You’d let me force you to do whatever I wanted.”

“God, yes. Keep going, darling.”

He shifts, moving the phone until the camera picks up his thumb running along the head of his cock. Aila whimpers at the sight—it should be her hand bringing him closer—and she sets her phone against the lamp. He curses when he sees her body on display, the stretch of the waistband around her wrists as she touches herself. She winks before leaning over the edge of the bed.

“Holy shit,” he breathes as she tugs down her shorts, as the buzzing starts, as he watches her slide the vibrator into herself. “Tell me more, please.”

Aila huffs out a laugh and forces her eyes open to take in the sight on her phone screen—the clenching of his jaw, muscles rippling in his arm as he strokes himself, the pupils overtaking the blue of his eyes. Her mind very nearly jumps off the track, but she reigns it back in. She concentrates on what she wants to say.

“I’d make you make me fall apart with just your tongue,” she whispers, breathes, “over and over until I could barely stand. Then I’d suck your dick, because you love that, don’t you?”

“I love it, god, I love it. Keep—fuck—what else? I’m close, don’t stop.”

“I love hearing you beg,” she purrs, and whoa, is that her voice? “I would make you beg for me. I’d make you beg to pin me against the wall, to fuck me as hard as you can until the whole house heard me screaming your name. Then I’d let you. God, I’d let you fuck me until it hurts. C’mon, love, let go. For me.”

He grunts, whines, and spills over his fist. It’s all she needs—she cries out, spasming around the vibrator even as she continues fucking herself with it. Her head swims, body twitches, and soon it becomes too much. Her thumb fumbles for the button, and she manages to turn the toy off.

“You’re cruel, torturing me like that,” he pants as he wipes his hand on a T-shirt.

“You’re the one not here,” she mumbles, tossing the vibrator to the side. Now that she’s climaxed, the last two days have caught up. Exhaustion crashes over her, and she turns on her side to blink sleepily at him through the video-call.

“Go to sleep, darling,” murmurs Niall; his lips curve into the sweet smile she loves so much. “We’ll talk more tomorrow.”

“It’ll be your turn to tell me what you’d do to me.”

“Trust me, it’s all I’ll think about. I love you, darling.”

“Love you.”

She falls asleep before he ends the call.

Niall is a man of his word and follows through the next night: Aila whimpers as he commands her to slow down, speed up, take her time, he wants to watch it all. He wants to watch her fuck herself knowing it could be him. Through everything, he lays out his plans.

They would lie together on the terrace, and she wouldn’t be able to look at him while he left kissed down her naked body. He’d make her look at the stars as he slowly tore her apart bit by bit. He would torture and tease her until she pleaded so beautifully for him to just fuck her already.

“Then I would,” he groans, “I’d fuck you right there against the balustrade, let you stare out over our city as I remind you who you belong to. You’ll never be able to take in the view again without feeling me inside of you.”

“I want that,” she begs, and his dark chuckle sends goosebumps racing along her flesh.

“Everyone will hear you moaning. They’ll hear you crying out my name. They’ll know I’m fucking you and forcing those sounds from you, and they’ll damn well know you’re mine. They’ll know only I can make you make those beautiful noises, and I’ll slit the throat of anyone who tries.”

He sits back in his chair, hands on the arms and cock jutting up through the zip of his jeans. Even in the dim lighting on his end and the video connection, Aila can see the glistening precum on the head of his cock. Her mouth drops open, another whimper falling from her lips, as she waits. Waits for what—she isn’t sure. Permission, maybe?

He waits until she’s climaxed twice to finish what he started. Her mouth waters as his release drips down his fingers, and she pouts through heavy, rapid breaths when she remembers he’s still not home.

“This isn’t fair.”

His lips tug into a smile. “I’ll be home before you know it.”

He can’t be home soon enough.

“Why are we here?” Aila grumbles the next morning, and Tania doesn’t bother hiding her eye-roll.

“Because you need clothes that aren’t meant for lounging or going to the club.”

Aila hates that Tania is right. Since she returned her work uniforms, Aila has very little in the way of appropriate clothing. So she resigns herself to a miserable experience and allows Tania and Harry to drag her from shop to shop.

Everything they pick out is clearly designed to intimidate: Sharp lines, dark colours. Even the reds are deep and rich, and Aila remembers pink-stained water in her dreams. The crimson on Niall’s hands as he exited Boyeshki‘s Jewels. Harry must see something on her face. He sighs and shoves another pair of stiletto boots into the basket on his arm.

“You can’t exactly look like a delicate flower, Aila.”

“But I like that style.”

“No one will take you seriously. They’ll try to take advantage of you.”

“Let them underestimate me.”

“And get you killed?” Tania snorts as she grabs a pantsuit off the rack. “That’ll go well, having to explain it to Niall. ‘Oh, your fiancée thought she knew best, so someone took her life, kill me if you want even though it won’t bring her back’. Don’t be an idiot.”

“You’re mean.”

“One more ‘I’ll kill you without remorse’ outfit, then you can buy as many ‘delicate flower’ dresses as your pretty little heart desires.”

Tania strides away, and Aila stares after her. Tania has been short-tempered since they met, but this is more abrupt than ever before. Aila glances at Harry from the corner of her eye. A sales associate passes by quickly, practically tripping over himself to get away.

“Is she okay?”

Harry shrugs, nudging her after Tania. “She’ll be fine. She just... she doesn’t like shopping. Doesn’t help she and Lou had to postpone their honeymoon. She’s a bit on edge.”

“Why?”

“Because of what’s going on,” says Harry in a tone that says she’s being thick.

Aila frowns, hunching in on herself. “Because I had to open my big mouth at the club, and now we’re all basically being forced to cut a deal with one of her biggest tormentors.”

“You did what you thought was right,” Harry murmurs in her ear, his hand gentle on her shoulder. “You did what you thought could protect us and the innocent people there. It was just dumb luck that it was enough to knock Irwin off his game. But, Aila, trust that we all know what we’re doing. None of us are being forced into anything.”

“But—“

Harry laughs shortly and steps past her. His voice is cold, icier than she ever heard it. “We got along without you, Aila. We’ve survived this long without you to broker peace.”

Aila comes to a stop in the aisle. Harry doesn’t even look back at her, and she swallows down the bile. Deciding to remain silent—it’s the only way she won’t ever hear Harry speak to her so harshly—she doesn’t even argue when Tania shoves yet another ‘gleeful murder’ outfit into her arms then turns her in the direction of the fitting rooms.

Yuri stands guard outside the curtain, and Aila sits on the bench. Fingerprints dot the surface of the mirror across the booth, the overhead lights washing her skin a sickly grey, and she struggles to breathe. Harry’s right. They all know what they’re doing, and she wasn’t even a player in the game until very recently.

But he’d been so abrupt. Harry has never been so abrupt with her.

“Knock, knock.”

Aila jolts to attention. How long has she sat here not trying on clothes like Tania wanted her to? Clearing her throat, she rattles the hangers together. “Yeah?”

“Miss Aila, Miss Tania gets impatient. You should hurry.”

“I’ll be right out.”

She gathers up the outfits and examines her reflection in the mirror. Her hair drapes over one shoulder, eyes lined with the faintest trace of eyeliner. She looks just the same as she always does.

Yuri’s hand on her arm stops her from exiting the booth fully. He checks that they’re alone before mussing her hair slightly, apologising as he ruffles the bottom of her shirt. “There, now you look like woman trying on clothes.”

“You—?”

“I have sisters, Miss. I know things.” He pauses then leans down. “And Miss? I know you are good for Mister Niall. They might not see it, but I do.”

“Thanks, Yuri.”

“Is no problem. Now idti, Miss Aila. I fear Miss Tania.”

She has to believe Yuri’s words. So Aila swallows down her protests, straightens her shoulders, and heads off to find Tania and Harry.

Niall finally comes home almost a week later. He apologises for leaving Aila alone for so long in the best way: Making good on his promise. He was right, she thinks as she stares at the skyline dotted with yellows against navy. Primden will never look the same from this vantage point. He lifts her further onto the balustrade, holds her safely on this side, and she can scarcely breathe at the uneven pace he sets up.

As if he’s waited far too long to give a damn about keeping steady.

He leans forward, growling, “Open your eyes, my love. This is yours. The city, this home, me.”

Tears slip down her cheeks as she stares without seeing at the night-lights of East Primden. There’s no grace to Niall’s thrusts—too hard and too much—but she lets him fuck away the weeks spent apart. She lets him fill her again and again and again in a way no other man could ever do.

Another rough thrust, then Niall is groaning in her ear and stilling behind her with his hips pressed to her ass.

She wakes him the following morning with her own promise. The sun is barely breaking the horizon, casting golden-pink across his face as he stares up at her from his knees. She aches to kiss him, to take her time. Instead, she grips his hair and demands he get back to work. His eyes go glassy at the sharp command, the tug of his hair, and he does as commanded with relish. It’s a submission she never would have expected from him, and damn, does he do it well. He begs so damn beautifully, voice muffled against her, and she finally gives in—after she’s orgasmed twice, of course.

Everyone knows what they’ve done by the time they reach the dining room at eight. No one mentions it, though Mully does bump his knuckles to Niall’s. Aila should be blushing, she knows it, but she’s too happy to give a damn. The contented buzzing in her veins ratchets when she sees Tania’s quick wink and lascivious smirk.

After breakfast, the group makes their way to the front door. Aila frowns when Tania tucks a folded switchblade into her boot, but she doesn’t ask about it. Asking will only bring Tania’s judgement. So Aila allows the cold metal to rest against her ankle as she follows everyone out of the manor.

Three SUVs sit in the curve of the lane, and Mully heads toward the front one, followed by Harry and Liam. Tania leads Zayn to the back, and Niall pulls Aila to a stop. Lowering his head to kiss her, his hand cups her cheek. She leans into the warm touch.

“Go with Lou and Yuri, darling. I’ll meet you there.”

“Why can’t we ride together?” she asks in an undertone, smoothing out the front of Niall’s shirt. “I missed you.”

He grabs her wrists with gentle hands and kisses her forehead. “And I missed you, darling. I’d love nothing more than to spend the entire drive with you, but this is what’s safest. If someone were to target us, they’ll go for the front or back vehicle. Yuri can get you somewhere safe immediately while we take care of the problem.”

“So you’re saying you’d be left behind to get murdered by someone who hates you, while I’ll be left alone without you.”

“I doubt it will happen, but yes.”

“Niall, I—I don’t like this.” She stares up at him, wide-eyed and frantic. His expression doesn’t change. “Don’t make me live without you.”

“I won’t. I’ll always come back to you, okay? But please, just this once, listen to what I tell you to do.”

“Obey you, you mean.”

“It’s your safety. You have to.”

Louis tugs on her arm, and Aila reluctantly follows him to the sedan sandwiched between two SUVs. Niall gets into the one in back. Aila watches him disappear from sight, heart in her throat. Yuri smiles at Aila through the rear-view.

“Do not worry, Miss Aila. No one would be stupid enough to harm Mister Niall. He is smart, yes?”

“His intelligence won’t save him,” she mutters.

“No, but he has crafted perfect circle of protection. Minions around city will keep watch.”

She nods stiffly and stares out the window. Mera waves from the doors of the terrace, and Aila draws comfort from that. A subtle sign of friendship, support. She watches the manor disappear from view, trees taking its place. Greens and browns flashing by. Louis holds her hand.

“Yuri is right, Aila. Everyone knows this is happening. They’ve left their rounds to stay on patrol.” He squeezes gently and doesn’t relent until Aila meets his eye. “Despite the fact Niall has killed people, loyalty to him is their highest priority. They would die to keep him safe. And you, by association.”

“A bit ominous, don’t you think?”

But she settles back in her seat and watches the city as it looms in front of them. With how often she’s stuck in the manor—leaving only for work or Junk Nights—she’d forgotten how Primden makes her feel so small. Insignificant. Another face in a sea of millions.

She wonders if that will ever change.