Plausible Deniability

Once Aila can breathe without her lungs feeling on the verge of collapse, she throws herself into learning how the ‘business’ runs. She works with Harry on the books, memorising which shops have debts to pay and which ones always pay on time. Somehow, she isn’t surprised to see Boyeshki’s Jewels in the red. The man is slimy; of course it would transfer to his ledger.

Louis helps her learn to keep track of inventory—weapons coming in, being purchased, shipped through Irwin’s system. How the weaponry goes undetected, no one really knows. It’s a symbiotic relationship: Ashton ships discretely for a hefty fee, and Niall gets that fee back in the form of payment from the recipients.

The narcotics are harder to keep track of. The slightest misread of the scale can throw everything off track. Thankfully, Louis has her training on small amounts—a few kilograms here, several there. She makes no mistakes by the end of the third day. He deems her “certified in drugs and paraphernalia”, patting her head, and she leaves the holding room still giggling.

Tania and Zayn even let her join in on rounds. Aila stands back, watches them closely as they gather up payments and give warnings. The sight of missing appendages and blood-soaked countertops no longer bothers her. Watching the man die changed her, but wishing she was the one to kill him took away the last of her reluctance.

Celine goes back to Tarris long enough to pack up her meagre belongings then moves into the manor without permission. No one minds, least of all Robert. He still does his duties well, but he can usually be found wherever Celine lingers. Aila and Niall make a bet on when the valet and grandmother will finally acknowledge the attraction and do something about it.

“Your turn,” Tania announces as they step out of the car, another round to make.

Noali’s is the last stop, and Aila is thankful for it. Maurice has never once missed a payment, often offering more than the required amount. She thinks back to the ledgers, the +50,000 beside the shop’s name. She hesitates just outside the door.

“Do I have to collect from him? He’s got an enormous surplus of collected funds.”

Tania shrugs, shoving her sunglasses onto her face. “That’s up to you. Just know you’ll be the one to have to explain it to Niall, so...”

Aila stares at the sign on the door: Open. Under that is a help wanted notice, aged and peeling at the edges. How long has it been there? Sighing, she takes one step then another. Niall can just deal with the zero deposit today.

“It’s lovely to see you, ma’am,” greets Noali from behind the counter. “Maurice is in the back gathering up the payment.”

“Tell him to stop. There’s no need today.”

“Ma’am?”

Aila draws in a steadying breath and steps forward when Zayn nudges her. “You have an... extraordinary amount in payments already. This is my gift to you for watching over me before I knew it. No deductions will be made from what you’ve already paid, but it isn’t necessary this month.”

“Won’t—?”

“Mister Horan will say nothing of it, if I have my way.” Aila grins and rests her elbows on the counter. “Noali, please just accept this. I’d feel terrible after all you and Maurice have done to keep me safe. All I ask of you is to never speak of this to anyone else.”

“Of course, ma’am.”

“Now that’s taken care of, any floral-print blouses in stock?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Noali says. Her smile stretches across her face. “Right this way.”

“You and your damn ‘delicate flower’ bullshit,” grumbles Tania, but she’s grinning as she follows Aila through the shop.

Aila’s attention is dragged away from the rack in front of her. She stares with narrowed eyes at the glittering black dress hanging on a rod two clusters away. Murmuring she will be right back, she weaves through the clothing and pulls the dress off the rack.

“I’d like to try this on,” she announces, and Noali dips her chin.

Stripping quickly in the fitting booth, Aila tugs the wrap-dress on and stares at her reflection in the mirror. The asymmetrical hemline drapes from just below her hip on one side to two inches above her knee on the other side. The sheer fabric exposes her bra and panties, and she turns to examine the back. Straps crisscross over her spine. A thin layer of mesh does nothing to change the visibility.

It’s perfect.

She calls for Tania and waits until the other woman is in the booth. “What do you think?”

“I’d fuck you,” Tania says after a long minute. “What’s it for?”

“I don’t know. I just want it.”

“Zayn, opinion.”

Zayn gawks, blinking rapidly before quickly averting his gaze. Aila’s gaze drops to his groin, and she giggles and takes it as mission accomplished. If he can be affected so much, Niall stands no chance.

Her phone vibrates in her bag, and she digs it out as Zayn groans. His footsteps fade in a second, as if he’s run from the sight of Aila’s barely-covered ass through the dress.

From: Cheyenne (12:16)
> Chose a date for bach party. You wanna split it? It can be both our parties.

Aila groans at the text. She’d completely forgotten about Chey’s engagement. In all the excitement and goings-on of the last few months, she’d neglected her friendships. She asks Tania to go find shoes and sits on the bench.

From: Aila (12:16)
< Sounds good to me. I’m so sorry for the lack of communication and my presence at Junk Night. It’s been... crazy around here. I’ll do better, I swear.
< But I’d absolutely LOVE to share a bachelorette party with you, my dearie. What day?

From: Cheyenne (12:17)
> Shut up. None of us mind. You still text us, so we know you’re still alive.
> 19th of November work for you?

From: Aila (12:17)
< For you? I’d make it work. Rogue, 7?

From: Cheyenne (12:18)
> Perfect! I’ll tell the others. We can meet for lunch in a couple days and show each other our outfits. We already know Angel is gonna steal the show, so we need to be hotter than she is.

From: Aila (12:18)
< Trust me, she would never look better than us. xoxo

“Well, found a use for the dress,” she says to Tania when the curtains rip back.

“And I found you a pair of killer heels. Now get dressed. Your fiancé will kill you if you walk around town looking like that.”

Now she has the party to look forward to, Aila begins counting the days. There is over a month before the party, so she fills her time with joining on rounds and even patrols. Clint grows warmer toward her the longer she sits with him on the roofs of buildings. The more she keeps an eye over the city just as sharply as he does. He even kisses her cheek, thanking her for sticking around.

Then he promptly asks her not to tell Niall he was so out of line. Aila only laughs and pats his hand, assuring him it’s their secret.

The night finally arrives. Niall graciously allows Tania to take the evening off to join Aila and the others in the festivities. Mera helps Aila get ready, beaming the entire time. Aila finally asks what the smile is for.

“Because your engagement is quickly coming to an end.” Mera pauses then blows out a breath. “May I be honest?”

“I’d prefer it, yes.”

“Mister Niall is much kinder toward us. He’s always been... respectful, if aloof. But now he speaks to us beyond giving orders. We have you to thank for that. Your marriage to him will mean it continues. We’ve enjoyed working for Mister Niall, but now we love it.”

Aila sighs, turning to face Mera. “I swear to you now, Mera. If I have any say, you’ll be considered more than just ‘staff’ while I’m around. You take care of us. You’re family at this point, in my eyes.”

“Miss Aila, you are an amazing woman. Mister Niall is blessed to have you. Especially when you look like this,” she adds on with a grin, gesturing toward Aila’s outfit.

She’d paired the dress with lingerie—scraps of fabric barely big enough to cover the parts of her only Niall is allowed to see. Smoky shadow covers her eyelids, and Mera painted her lips a deep burgundy. Aila slips her feet into the stilettos Tania chose, standing up as smoothly as she can.

“Can you grab my wrap, please?” she asks as she gathers her phone and clutch. No point in letting everyone else see what she is wearing. Not yet.

“Of course, Miss.”

Niall’s gaze skims along her body once Aila joins him in the foyer. Celine raises a brow, question in her eyes, and Aila winks at her grandmother. Kissing Celine’s cheek, she promises to be on her best behaviour tonight. Niall snorts behind her, and she doesn’t look around even as she flips him off.

He’s the one who won’t behave tonight.

Aila waits until they’re in the car to remove her wrap, letting it pool around her shoulders and show off exactly how short the dress is. Niall exhales sharply from beside her, hands trembling in his lap. Warmth diffuses through her when she sees he’s hardening already. She settles back in her seat and stares out the window while Vincent pulls away.

A hot, heavy weight settles on her knee as the car carries them closer to the city. Aila swallows thickly; what is he playing at? Maybe Niall just wants to feel her skin beneath his palm. After all, Vincent is in the front seat. Niall wouldn’t try to start something with an audience. Maybe he won’t—

And oh. Her breath hitches when the hand drifts along her thigh, feather-light and leaving a burning path in its wake. Her legs part on instinct, eyes fluttering closed, and his chuckle ghosts through the air. Niall keeps his gaze averted to the scenery flying past the windows even as his hand disappears beneath the short hem of her dress.

His thick finger traces along her folds through the lace, and Aila barely manages to stifle her squeak. Niall pushes her thighs further apart before pressing harder against her, unrelenting in the strokes of his finger on her core. Heat floods through her. She can feel the very second her body reacts, and she jerks her hips up into his touch.

He groans low in his throat, tugging at the waistband of her panties. She lifts her ass just enough for him to slide the material down, then he finally looks at her. Even in the dim lighting, his eyes are darkened, pupils blown wide.

“God, you’re so fucking wet already,” he whispers, and Aila barely stifles a moan when a finger disappears inside of her.

It hurts, but it’s the most exquisite pain she could ever feel. She leans forward and shoves her underwear down around her ankles, gasping when the action pushes his palm against her clit. When he elbows her gently.

“Sit back,” he snaps, hard and cold.

She obeys in an instant, and she can’t breathe as he rushes her toward the edge. The fact Vincent is just in the front seat flees from her mind, everything centres around this. The way Niall is vicious in his ministrations, the way he jerks up against her palm. When had she reached out for him?

He shifts closer, forcing his fingers into her with abandon, and her head falls back. His teeth and tongue work at the column of her throat, whispers of ownership and love sinking into her skin. His belt buckle clanks as he undoes his slacks, the sound sending heat flushing down her skin. Her hand finds him easily, and she strokes him as he does her.

“Come for me, my love,” he murmurs.

She does.

The quaking in her gut has barely abated when he wraps an arm around her. Yanks her onto his lap and pushes her torso forward. His finger was barely enough, she thinks, squeezing her eyes closed as his long, thick cock shoves into her. His hands on her waist spur her on—he helps her to rise and fall, the buttons on his shirt scraping against her ass.

The sound of their bodies meeting again and again mixes with the loud music coming through the speakers. Aila steals a quick glance at the driver. Vincent’s eyes remain firmly on the road. I should have worn a bra, she thinks when her breasts rock in time with Niall’s thrusts. It’s an errant thought, one that quickly flies away.

This isn’t enough.

“This is all you’ve got?” she hisses over her shoulder.

Niall’s eyes widen before narrowing. He wraps one hand around her throat, squeezing gently, and the other cradles her breast. She whimpers when he pinches her nipple, rolls it between calloused fingers. He doesn’t stop fucking her with his driver in the front seat, even as the city looms ahead of them.

Then he does.

“What—?” she all but cries.

“Sit still,” orders Niall, cock twitching in her. He tugs her so her spine rests against his chest. His fingers squeeze on her throat and breast, nails painfully carving into her flesh. “You don’t get to talk to me like that while I fuck you. Do I make myself clear?”

She chews on her lower lip and grinds down against him. “Fuck you, Horan. Give me something better, and we’ll talk.”

“Oh, love, you shouldn’t have said that,” he growls—snarls, really—and she grins to herself.

Once more, Aila finds her head pressed against the back of the passenger seat, his hand around her throat. The pressure is more intense, and she struggles to breathe through the grip he has on her. The sharp snap of his hips, his dick hitting just right. Her head swims with the lack of oxygen, and she clings to the headrest as her body rocks with each torturous thrust.

He doesn’t care about her pleasure right now, only punishment.

“Drive, Vincent,” he growls, and she turns her head to see the club. She hadn’t noticed the car coming to a stop.

“Very well, sir.”

Niall forces her to a halt, stops fucking her, right when she’s about to tip over the ledge. He does it over and over. His fingers on her breast don’t cease; he continues playing with her nipples, alternating between rough fucking and holding her still. No matter how Aila pleads and whines, he moves at his own pace, does whatever he wants with her body.

Finally, even when he keeps her ass settled to his hips, Aila can’t stop her climax from crashing over her. Not when he still holds her throat though he doesn’t squeeze, not when his cock fills her perfectly. Not after half an hour of teasing her. He groans, tugging at her hair, as he resumes chasing his own orgasm.

Once, twice, five more thrusts, then he’s coming with her name on his lips.

“Next time you’re a brat,” he whispers, breath skimming along her sweat-soaked skin, “I won’t be so nice.”

“I’ll be as much of a brat as I want,” she pants and winces as his soft cock slides out of her. As his cum drips down her thighs.

He hands her a handkerchief, commands her to clean herself up, and Vincent turns a corner back onto the street leading to the Rogue. She wipes away the evidence of what she has just done with Niall, and he helps situate her panties and dress. Her hair is a lost cause, so she pulls it back into a plait. Then, before he can so much as blink, she leans down to lick a wide strip across the head of his cock.

She already wants to use her mouth to make him come again. Suckling gently, she glances up at him through her lashes before releasing his dick with a lewd slurping noise.

His groan cracks in the silence, and her heart races with more than just exertion. It’s the love and control she’s found in him. The fact he owns her and she owns him.

“Enjoy your night out, love,” she breathes against his lips before clambering over his lap.

His hand lands firmly on her ass, and she giggles as she closes the door behind her.