Saint: A Dark Mafia Romance by Aubrey Irons

Author:Aubrey Irons [Irons, Aubrey]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2017-04-02T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter One

Ivy

The boat rocks with the motion of the waves, heaving slightly in the current as we motor around the breakers at the mouth of the harbor.

I smile as I breathe in the sea air - the smell of salt brine and the cool edge of the Atlantic breezing across the bow of the ferry where I stand. You don’t get this kind air in New York City, which is fine in a way, because there’s a reason I left all this years ago.

There’s a reason I left Shelter Harbor.

I take another big lungful of New England air as I crack open the little nip of vodka I picked up at Logan International. I dump it into the tiny plastic cup of ice I got from the booze-free snack bar below deck and bring it to my lips, regardless of the late-morning hour.

Sometimes going home requires a little fortification.

I turn at movement, seeing the grizzled ferry captain grinning at me from the wheelhouse next to me. He adjusts the Red Sox cap on his head, scratching his silvered hair as he raises an eyebrow at the little bottle in my hand.

“I’m on vacation,” I lie, smiling.

“No judgment here, sweethawt,” he says, the thick, familiar Boston accent of home washing over me as he chuckles. “If I weren’t on the clock, I’d join ya.”

“I won’t tell if you don’t,” I mutter as he turns back to the wheel, taking another quick sip. We’re almost there.

“Are we there yet?”

Ainsley looks green as she comes up from below deck, her mouth a thin white line as she grips the railing tightly.

I raise the second little nip out of my shoulder bag at my assistant, which brings on a whole new color of chartreuse to her face as she quickly shakes her head.

“God, no.” She swallows queasily. “Remind me why we couldn’t take the train, or drive in like normal people?”

“Because this is way more fun.”

The boat crests another small wave, and Ainsley almost loses it.

“Thanks for coming, by the way.”

“I mean, it’s my job, Ivy.”

I roll my eyes. “Well, yeah, but coming back here is always….” I wave my hand distractedly.

I’m home for a week this visit, which is about three times longer than I’m ever home. And it’s not that I don’t like coming back here - I do, and I love my family - it’s just that I left the small town and all the baggage that came with it years ago. College in New York City, the fashion blog I’d started sophomore year took off, and then the age of Instagram launched me into the face of lifestyle and “fitspiration” that I am today.

“What’s our shoot schedule look like, by the way?”

It’s the other reason I’m home, aside from my dad’s dedication ceremony. All those Instagram stars with half a million followers who are always telling you about their favorite new cotton t-shirt, or sunscreen, or brand of sneaker?

Yeah, we get paid for that. And when Lori, my management liaison

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