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“Right, so this is a typical evening for ya?”
I take my bra from him and start dressing while he pulls on his boxers, then crosses to the drinks cabinet as if this is exactly how men in this house behave after ruining women on the floor.
Glass clinks. A stopper pops free. Whiskey pours in two short glasses, the measures generous.
He walks in my direction and hands one to me. “I don’t bring women home often.”
I get to my feet, zip up my jeans and take the drink. “How come? Too afraid your da wouldn’t approve?”
Fionn watches me over the rim of his glass.
“Something like that,” he mutters before taking a sip. “Is this how my sister ended up with your brother?”
My brows snap together. “Drinking whiskey together?”
“Fucking,” he replies.
“Well, I wouldn't exactly say Keira’s innocent if she’s with Saint.”
“You do realize if he hurts her in any way, I’ll kill him.”
A shiver runs down my spine, and I stand taller. “Kill him, and I’ll kill you.”
Fionn smirks, and my stomach flips. “Would you fuck me while you’re doing it?”
“I wouldn’t give ya the pleasure of something you enjoy in your last minutes.”
That pulls a low laugh from the back of his throat. “How do you think your brothers would react to a Harrington tying up their sister and fucking her on the floor?”
The cold draft at my feet rises and my skin prickles, the weight of his words settling in the pit of my stomach. “Is that what this is… You’re doing this to get back at Saint?”
When I step back, he moves closer, crowding me with his bare chest and whiskey laced breath.
“I’m not using you to get to your brother, Sera. If I wanted to hurt Saint, I wouldn’t need your body to do it.”
“No?”
“No.” His voice stays low. “You’ve had plenty of chances to turn this into a weapon. Your brothers knew enough to come for me. They didn’t.”
“Maybe they decided you weren’t worth the petrol.”
“Maybe.” He takes a slow drink. “But I think you kept that night a secret.”
The whiskey burns differently after that.
“I told Eilish.”
“You told your best friend we fucked.” His eyes hold mine. “Not the rest.”
I set my glass down. “Why am I here, Fionn? Why bring me to this cold, empty house when you’re still marrying Eilish?”
Fionn exhales a slow, steady breath.
“The wedding is still happening,” I remind him.
“It is.”
“And my ma would sooner shoot ya than shake your hand.”
