Emily hadn't intended on going home with Ian.
When she'd agreed to get dinner together, it had been purely business. She wanted to get inside intel on his life because no man laid a hand on her and got away with it.
But she'd had perhaps one more drink than altogether wise and, in her drunken haze, it had seemed extremely wise to get a look at Doyle's place.
Almost as soon as they were through the door, he had her pressed up against it, kissing her with hunger. For reasons she couldn't possibly have articulated, she kissed him back.
She wrapped an arm around his neck and she hooked a leg around his hip, pulling him closer into her body.
Then, he pulled back from her lips to suggest, "Whisky?"
She hummed a note. "I never say no to a stiff Irish drink..." she teased.
He just chuckled. "Talking like that will get you in trouble, Love," he husked.
"I like trouble," she purred, following him into the kitchen.
He poured them both a tumbler of amber liquid, taking a sip and gesturing for her to do the same.
She tossed back the contents of her glass, then pulled him back into her chest so she could kiss him again.
With his hands on her hips, he guided her back until she hit the counter, then helped her up onto the marble countertop. "You're so fucking sexy," he growled as he moved to trail little nips and kisses down her throat.
She laughed breathily, tilting her head to give him better access. She spread her legs to make room for him, wrapping her legs around his waist.
He palmed her breast roughly, making her gasp, and she moved a hand to support herself, knocking over a glass in the process and sending it crashing to the floor.
"Shit!" she hissed.
"Don't worry about it," he insisted. He wrapped his fingers around her wrist, moving her hand to palm his hard on through his slacks.
Taking the hint, she obliged, but before she could slip her hand into his boxer briefs, a small voice mumbled, "Daddy?"
Emily withdrew her hand like she'd been burned.
Ian heaved a sigh, turned towards the voice. "Declan, what have I told you about getting out of bed?"
The young boy pouted, stared down at the floor. "I had a nightmare," he whispered.
Ian huffed. "Well, go wake up Louise, I'm busy."
"She's asleep..." the boy persisted. His bottom lip started to wobble and it was clear he was on the verge of bursting into tears at any moment.
Emily couldn't help but be reminded of Jayde in that moment, watching as fat tears spilled down the boy's chubby cheeks, the way he clutched a stuffed lamb like a security blanket. And, before she knew what she was doing, she hopped down off the counter and crossed the room to kneel in front of the boy.
She could feel Ian's gaze on her, watching her with intensity, but she chose to ignore him.
"You're Declan, right?" she murmured to the child. He nodded warily, gaze locked on hers. She offered him a soft smile. "Your dad has told me so much about you," she lied. "He said you have a really cool bedroom...could I see it?"
Declan thought on that for a moment, then nodded. He took the hand she extended, leading her from the kitchen and up the stairs to his room. He showed her to an expansive room with soft blue walls and a dark blue ceiling spotted with glow-in-the-dark stars. The space was filled with toys and books and games, his every possible wanted apparently catered to.
"This is a really nice room, Declan," Emily said, smiling down at him. "You're a very lucky boy." She couldn't help but wish she could give Jayde this – or even just a room of her own – but she also had a feeling that Jayde had something Declan had never been given: pure unconditional parental love.
Emily proceeded to turn down the covers of his bed, gently patting the pillow in a silent signal that he should lay down. Once he had, she covered him with the blankets and gently stroked his hair the way she did with Jayde whenever she had trouble falling asleep.
"What's your name?" Declan asked, blinking up at her sleepily.
"Ruby," she lied, not trusting the child to keep her real name a secret from his father.
He was silent for a moment, thoughtful. "Are you Daddy's girlfriend?" he asked then with the innocence that only a child can possess.
Emily gave a nervous little laugh in response. "No, Buddy, we're just friends," she insisted. Then, attempting to change the subject, she asked, "Do you want a bedtime story?"
Emily tiptoed out of the room once she was certain Declan was sound asleep, flicking off the light behind her and softly closing the door. Which is when she quite literally bumped into Ian where he had been watching from the hallway.
"You're very good with him," Ian whispered, pulling her closer into his chest and pressing kisses down her throat. "You're a natural mother. Have you ever thought about having children?"
She shook her head. "With my job? I hardly think anyone wants a lap dance from a pregnant woman," she made up an excuse. She hated lying about Jayde's existence – the one good thing she'd ever done with her life – but she wasn't going to risk putting her in danger.
"Someday, though?" he pressed.
"Someday," she agreed, hoping to end the conversation before it travelled any further into dangerous territory. "Look, it's getting late and I should really head home before..." she started to make excuses.
He pulled her in for a searing kiss. Then, lips ghosting over hers, urged, "Stay. I have a king size bed..."
She hummed a note as if she were tempted. "That's very kind, but you know I can't be seen with clients outside the club. I made an exception for you, but I think it's best we take things slowly." She plastered on what she hoped was a convincing smile, hoped he bought her lie that there was a promise of a future.