Declan + Coraline

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Authors: J.J. McAvoy

Tags: #mystery, #organized crime, #J.J. McAvoy, #organized crime romance, #fiction, #romance, #suspense, #thriller, #mafia romance, #mob romance, #prequel, #contemporary romance

BOOK: Declan + Coraline
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DECLAN + CORALINE

A Ruthless People Novella

J.J. McAvoy

COPYRIGHT

This ebook is licensed to you for your personal enjoyment only.

This ebook may not be sold, shared, or given away.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the writer’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Declan + Coraline

Copyright © 2015 by Judy Onyegbado

ISBN:

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

No part of this work may be used, reproduced, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without prior permission in writing from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

NYLA Publishing

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th
Avenue, Suite 2003, NY 10001, New York.

http://www.nyliterary.com

TIMELINE

Declan + Coraline takes place two years before the start of Ruthless People. 23-year-old Coraline Wilson, fresh out of college, just wanted to experience life to the fullest for the first time and met 27-year-old Declan Callahan in the process. They fell hard and fast…but their families may prove to be problematic...

DEDICATION

To all of you who wrote to me on

Facebook

Twitter

Tumblr,

Instagram,

Pinterest,

and

Gmail,

Asking for this book,

Thank you.

PROLOGUE

“There's nowhere you can be that isn't where you're meant to be...”

―John Lennon

DECLAN

“Two breakfast specials, Beatrice, and add some love in it.” Liam winked at the older Irish woman who was refilling our coffees. He leaned into the booth at the Eastside Diner, while the rain that was beating against the window beside us covered all of Chicago under a dark cloud. Beatrice shook her head at him and called him a player in Irish before she took our order and left.

“You didn’t sleep last night,” Liam stated and I knew he was fishing.

“I’m fine—”

“You screamed for help.” He frowned. “Dad stood outside your door—”

I matched his expression. “I’ll tell him to stop doing that. Really, there’s no need. I’m fine. The nightmares aren’t as bad as they once were. You know that.” Sometimes I felt like a freak in this family. Couldn’t I just go to sleep for once without it being some sort of horror show?

“If you need—”

“I don’t. I’m fine. Drop it, Liam.”

He said nothing more and drank his coffee in silence.

Staring out the window, I found myself watching the rain. This summer had been the rainiest so far, making Chicago feel more like Seattle on some days, but worse because of the wind. I was just about to turn away when I saw a woman fighting with a broken umbrella. Because of the wind, her purse flew right off of her shoulder, and all of its contents spilled onto the ground. For some reason, I sat up as if to help her, but she gathered everything quickly and ran inside the diner for shelter. The chime of the bell above the door marked her entry to safe, dry ground.

“Dad said we’re going out to the club tonight.” Liam changed the subject but I couldn’t look away from her as she shook the water off of her hands.

She was soaked through and through, and the green blouse she wore, along with her tight, dark jeans, clung to her body and accentuated her every curve. Her dark hair stuck to her brown face, as the rain dripped from her seductive lips. She fought with her yellow umbrella as her brown eyes glared at it in frustration.

She’s beautiful.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she exclaimed and looked at her watch.

Was she late?

“What are you looking at?”

“Huh?” I glimpsed back to Liam.

He stared at me before turning back to look at her. She was muttering quickly and I smirked when she laughed at herself in annoyance.
I couldn’t look away from her.

“Why are you smiling at that woman?”

“Huh?”

“That is the second ‘huh’ you’ve given me in the last minute. What did she do, steal your brain?”

“Shut up.” I scowled at him as I reached for the sugar and poured it into my cup.

She shook her umbrella as if she were going to strangle it, and I found I couldn’t look away from her, once again.

“Please work.
Please
.” She begged it.

Did she know we could all see her?

“Don’t you think that’s enough?”

“Huh?”

He chuckled as he nodded towards the sugar in my hands. Peeking down, I saw the mountain that had formed on the top of my drink. Dropping the sugar back on the table, I furtively snuck a peek at her; she was in her own little world.

Seriously, what the fuck was wrong with me?

“There’s an umbrella behind you,” Liam stated, still grinning as I reached behind me for it
.

“Aye!” the younger freckled faced boy said as I grabbed it.

I glared at him and he swallowed slowly as he let go. “Sorry, sir, I ain’t know it was you.”

“No problem,” I muttered as I stood up and fixed my jacket. Ignoring Liam’s snickers, I walked towards her.

Why the hell was I nervous?

The closer I got, the more beautiful she became. She bit her full lips in determination.

“Do you need—?”

“Yes!” she almost screamed in victory as her umbrella finally opened properly.

She grinned so widely that it was contagious and I found myself smiling too. Putting the umbrella behind my back, I tried to speak to her, but without even glancing back at me, she ran out of the diner and onto the street as quickly as possible. Within moments, her yellow umbrella disappeared into the crowd and I helplessly took a step forward, as though I were going to chase after her,
but that was insane.

“Move faster next time, brother.” Liam draped his arm around my shoulder. “Too bad though. She was
really
hot.”

I shrugged him off, more annoyed with myself than with him, because he was right—I’d been too slow.

“I
will
be quicker next time,” I whispered, still staring at the crowd she’d disappeared into.

I had to see her again.

ONE

“Their eyes met. It had begun. They had begun.”

―Alexander Potter

CORALINE

Sometimes…well most times, I felt as though everyone else was doing amazing things with their lives, while I was stuck on the sidelines. When I was twelve, I told myself,
‘Just wait until I you’re sixteen, then the fun will start.’
At sixteen, I said I couldn’t wait for my eighteenth birthday because then my life would surely begin. Before I knew it, it was my twenty-first birthday. And now I that I was twenty-three, I’d all but given up. Yes, I was still young, but I was weird; I hated alcohol—no matter how many drinks I’d tried, they all tasted like ash to me. On top of that, large crowds made me nervous, so I was officially a buzzkill to all my friends, or I was always the one assigned to be the designated driver. I preferred to stay home unless I had to go to school, church, the bank, or to buy groceries, clothes or books. That was my life. It was made up of six places.

I’d officially graduated from Stanford three days ago and I moved back home to start working at my father’s bank. Now that I was back in Chicago for the first time in four years, I’d made a resolve to try and go out again. I needed more than just six places.

Standing in front of my mirror, I curled the ends of my dark hair before I fixed my red lipstick. Then, I took a step back and smoothed out my dress.

“Can I borrow these?”

Turning, I saw my cousin, Imani, standing at my bathroom door with my brand new Brian Atwood heels in her hand.

“Imani—”

“Cora, you’re like 5’9. Why do you really need heels this high? Please? Thank you!” And just like that, she was gone.

“Imani!” I yelled after her even though I knew it was no use. Whatever Imani wanted, she took.

She was only a year younger than me, but I felt like she lived a total different life than I did. While I lived in six places, Imani’s world was infinite. She and I were opposites. While I was tall, dark, and all boobs, she was short, caramel skinned, and had an ass for days. Last time we’d gone out, I was literally pushed to the curb while two guys tried to ask her out.

“Ah!” I hissed, forgetting that the curling iron was still hot. Running my finger under the cold water for a moment, I turned off the iron and headed into my closet to find another pair of shoes to wear.

I ran my hand over all of my clothes and purses—all of which ranged from Prada to Alexander McQueen—and I took a seat in the middle of it all. Whenever I came into my closet, I knew that I shouldn’t complain about anything. Even though both of my parents were gone, they had left me wanting for nothing for the rest of my life.

My father was the founder of Wilson International Bank, and no matter what, I would always own thirty-eight percent of it. I was better off than over ninety percent of the country—I should’ve been happy, I shouldn’t take anything for granted.

Yet, it meant nothing to me.

“What do you think?” Imani came back and stretched out her legs so that I could see the shoes. She wore a blue dress with the sides cut out and her hair was in tight curls.

“You look good.”

“I know, right? Take a picture, make sure to get everything,” she said as she handed me her phone and posed in the doorway.

I took the picture and she turned and propped her hands on her waist as she puckered her lips.

“Imani, we need to go.” I laughed. I took another picture before finally grabbing a simple pair of black heels.

“I’m having a few friends pick us up,” she said as she checked the images on her phone.

“What? I thought it was just us, remember?”

“I know, but…” She tried not to say it.

“But I’m boring,” I finished for her.

“Oh, they’re here. Let’s go.”

“That’s not an answer, Imani.” I grabbed my purse, and followed her out and down the stairs. Our heels clicked against the marble as we made it to the door. I stopped and shifted the Greek vase that once belonged to my parents, as I passed by the cabinet near the doorway. My mother had gotten it while they were on their second honeymoon. It was the first thing she bought when they’d started to make money. She said Greece was filled with magic, and that I should rub the vase for good luck. I was nine, so I believed her.

Before she opened the door, she glanced at me with a serious expression. “Just don’t be boring tonight, okay? Seriously, Cora, just let loose. For once in your life, just live a little.”

“Okay—” I stopped when she opened the door and I saw two guys, who I didn’t know, standing in front of a black Escalade. “Imani…” I began

She gave me a look before she walked up to her friends and gave them a hug.

“Derek, Otis, this is my cousin, Cora. Cora, Derek and Otis have been telling me all about this club,
The Ram
. I’ve been trying to get in for weeks, but it’s always packed.”

“Don’t worry, babe, we got you,” the man to her left said, as he pulled her to his side. He stood at least a good foot and a half taller than her.

“You guys ready?” Derek clapped his hands, as he looked between us.

“Don’t we look ready?” Imani pouted, pulling at one of her curls. How she could be so at ease was beyond me.

“You both look
fineee
,” Otis, whose voice was just a bit deeper, said, as he stretched it out. “Let’s roll out.”

Derek held the door for me, and with a forced smile, I slid in, all too aware that he was checking out my non-existent ass as I got inside.

“Why you ain’t tell me your house was so nice, babe?” Otis said to Imani up front as we pulled out of the driveway.

“I know, right? They livin’ in a gated community and shit. The security at the front all about pissed himself when he saw us.” Derek laughed.

“You know, WIB, Wilson International Bank?” Imani asked.

“Yeah.”

“Cora’s father founded it.”

“You all got it like that?” Derek looked to me.

She did a small fist pump. “Yep, if it weren’t for good old Uncle Adam
,
we would be stuck in Southbend with y’all hoodrats.”

“Well, excuse me while I change banks,” Derek joked as he pulled out his phone.

“Hold up. Hold up. He coming again.” Otis snickered and slowed down as we got to the front post.

Rolling down the window, I smiled at Old Man Pierre. He was in his early fifties but he had a thick black mustache above his lips. I was sure that he dyed it, but it looked good on him. He always came out of his booth to see every car.

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