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“Two.” She smiles. “Beibhinn, whom you’ve already met, and her twin brother, Liam. He should be around here somewhere.”
“Why don’t you give me your bag, and you can head out to the garden while I sort out a room for you,” Fiadh’s voice echoes off the walls as she points towards the large glass doors leading to the pool area.
“Oh, and Saoirse…Don’t go too far.” She smiles. “Dinner will be ready shortly, and I have a rule that dinner is family time, and now, that includes you.”
I nod, hand her my bag, then shove my hands into the front pocket of my hoodie. “Oh, okay.”
Her smile widens. “Stop worrying. You’ll give yourself wrinkles. My house is your house, sweetheart. Now go make yourself at home.” She shoos me towards the garden. “If you need anything, the fridge out there is stocked, and the remote for the tv should be in the centre pocket of the couch. I’ll come to get you shortly.”
“Thanks, Fiadh.”
“What are godmothers for?” She winks, then turns on her heel before I can ask any more about her‘godmother’comment. I watch as her heels clap against the marble, and once she’s out of sight, I head towards the garden, not knowing what else to do with myself.
* * *
Oh,how the one per cent live.
Feet cocked up; I laze back on the recliner while adorning one of the soft, chunky knit throws I found in a wicker basket beneath the flat screen tv.
When Fiadh said I could hang out in the garden, I wasn’t expecting an outdoor living room with a fully stocked fridge and a giant stone firepit. But, as insane as this house is, this garden area is my new happy place.
With a view of the mountains, this cosy nook is every girl’s Pinterest dream. Fuck the room in the gate lodge. I’d happily sleep out here underneath the glow of fairy lights and the moon.
Flicking open the can of Coca-Cola I grabbed from the fridge, I take a gulp, snuggle up, and watchThe Witcheron Beibhinn’s Netflix account.
Hello, Henry Cavill.
I’m ten minutes in when my eyelids begin to close, and the past three days finally catch up to me. Leaning forward, I place the can on the coffee table before lying back and letting myself drift off to the Jaisker, serenading me to sleep.
The blanket I wrapped around me whips off, and in the next breath, a cool night breeze sweeps over my skin, making me shudder.
“Who the fuck are you?” The gravel tone forces my eyes open to find a blurry giant-like silhouette blocking the tv screen.
Willing my eyes to focus, I blink and push myself into a sitting position. When my intruder’s face comes into view, I almost swallow my tongue. Beneath his furrowed brow, his striking grey eyes bore into my skin. Annoyance wafts from him, highlighted by his flared nostrils. My eyes home in on the skull-shaped studs pinching either side of his nose before they drop to his plump, pursed lips. Intricate ink peeks out from beneath the round neck of his black tee, travelling up his neck and halting at his razor-sharp jawline.
Mother of God, what is in the water here?This is the third hot-hole I’ve seen today, but this guy, whoever he is, looks nothing like the guys at the gym.
He’s bigger, broader, and the artwork on his skin is a canvas of photorealism tattoos, not misplaced patchwork. Yet, somehow, it makes him seem…I don’t know, more dangerous.
“What’s wrong, darlin’? Cat got your tongue or somethin’?” His intrusive stare slides over me again, only this time it lingers on my body a little too long. First, a pierced tongue slides across his bottom lip, then he bites down on his lip, and my entire body heats at his attention. I hate myself for it. This douche is clearly trouble, but I was never very good at avoiding that.
Standing to my full height, I square my shoulder and offer, “Saoirse…Saoirse Ryan.”
One brow hikes up, levelling me with a glare that’s both humorous and could also burn buildings. “Ah.” He sneers. “The long-lost Ryan returns.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
His devious smirk widens. “That’s for me to know and you to figure out, darlin’,” he punctuates with a wink.
“Liam.” Fiadh’s voice bleeds from the doorway, cracking the tension between the tattooed God and me. “Stop harassing our guest. I don’t care how old you are, I will put you on your ass, and you know it.”
The smile he flashes her is nothing like the devilish grin he gave me; instead, it’s softer, loving even. “Yes, ma’am.”
Shrugging past me, he halts at my shoulder and levels his mouth to my ear. “Do you taste as good as you look?”
My cheeks heat, but I know he’s only trying to get a rise out of me. Dropping my tone to a whisper, I decide to play him at his own game. “That’s for me to know and for you to never find out.”
“Oh, darlin’...I’m going to have so much fun proving you wrong.”
With that, he saunters past his mother and into the house.
Fuck me. This should be fun.
