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SAOIRSE
Unfortunately,my minor meltdown has caught the attention of everyone on the gym floor. Beyond the glass wall, several sets of eyes bore into my skin, causing me to curl up into myself as I will the ground to swallow me whole.
My emotions rarely boil over. Instead, I disguise my feelings behind the mask of sarcasm and indifference. It’s a trait I picked up from my mother.
It was always impossible to know what she was really feeling or thinking — an impenetrable vault of concealed thoughts and emotions — but like my mother, I erupt every now and again. Usually, it’s in the privacy of my space. Not in front of an audience, but it seems the past few days have finally caught up with me.
Fiadh’s hands hold me steady as her eyes peer over my shoulder. “Deep breaths, sweetheart.”
Suddenly, her face hardens when her eyes connect to something behind me. Curiosity claws at me, and before I know it, I’m following her line of sight.
Through my tear-hazed eyes, I spy two men sparring in the centre of the fighting cage.
Toe-to-toe and punch for punch, they rail on each other with wrapped knuckles, seemingly oblivious to their surroundings. Sweat beads on their skins, making their patchwork tattoos glisten underneath the bright lighting. They move seamlessly, dodging blow after blow. Something about the duo fascinates me — chaotic destruction wrapped up in two deliciously sinful packages.
Beibhinn chuckles behind her hand. “Great. She’s dickmatized already. And here I thought we could be friends.”
Shaking her head at her daughter’s sarcastic tone, Fiadh looks back at Beibhinn, but I can’t tear my eyes away. “When did he arrive?”
I’m not sure which of the two Fiadh refers to, but Beibhinn’s reply tells me she knows exactly which one of the Adonis her mother was glaring at. “‘About fifteen minutes ago.”
Fiadh nods before bringing her attention back to me. Her hand cups my cheek. “We shouldn’t talk out here. We’ll go to my office. There’s more privacy back there. Bev…” she directs at her daughter. “Call Roisin, tell her to get the guest house ready.” After taking my hand, Fiadh leads me towards the opening to the gym floor, but before we head in, she spins on her heel, almost knocking me over.
“Oh, and keep an eye on him. Let me know the second he leaves.”
Beibhinn nods. “Sure thing, boss.”
Finally, Fiadh pushes through the doors. Falling into step behind her, my eyes dart around the open-plan space. It’s modern, and with the high ceilings, mass concrete walls, and state-of-the-art gym equipment, I can understand why it seems most of the young male population work out here.
I know I shouldn’t, but my body betrays me by seeking out the two men in the octagon. The taller of the two has his back to me. His muscles clench with every movement, and the tattoos covering his skin dance to the brutal two-step. As stunning as this man is, his opponent makes every inch of my skin feel as though it’s being licked by flames.
There’s something about how he moves as if he’s floating on the very air he breathes. His black hair is striking against his pale porcelain skin, highlighting his haunted vibe. My heart quickens as he bounces around the cage with a smirk pulling at his lips. His hypnotic confidence reminds me of the mysterious man who flipped my world on its axis only days before.
Head bowed, he refuses to look my way, even though I silently beg him to prove my wild thoughts wrong.
Is it him?
My body screams yes, and my mind roars at me to run.
“Saoirse?” Fiadh breaks through my thoughts and steals my attention. She stands in the doorway to her office, holding the door open for me to enter.
My feet carry me forward, but not before I sneak one more glance over my shoulder. My heart stops when those hypnotic eyes meet mine, but he’s too far away to determine the colour. His tongue traces the seam of his bottom lip as he shoots a wink in my direction. Then, without taking his focus off me, he darts forward, taking his opponent to the mat and holding him there by pinning his neck with his forearm.
“That boy is trouble,” Fiadh mutters with a shake of her head.
“Who is he?”
Her response both intrigues and baffles me. “He…is his father’s son.”
Realising that’s all she’ll say on the matter, I slip by her and take a seat on the sofa across from her desk.
What’s with the people in my life always avoiding my questions with non-answers?
* * *
“Coffee?”Fiadh throws the question over her shoulder as she busies herself with the state-of-the-art coffee maker in the corner of her office.
My nose crinkles. I’ve never acquired the taste for coffee, not from the lack of trying; it’s just…too bitter. “Have you got hot chocolate?”
