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Passengers flood off the bus, and my best friend — and right-hand man — scans every face, searching for a girl he has not seen before. I can tell the second he spots her. His shoulders stiffen, and his back goes rigid.
Jackpot, love, I knew you’d find your way.
“Fuck me,” he moans. “Please tell me that’s not her?”
Head bowed, her long tresses of black velvet fall forward, curtaining her face. Her shoulders are round, caved into her chest as she clings to herself, but her frightened composure doesn't steal from her beauty. It enhances it.
I know Aodhán sees it too, the kind of beauty men start wars over.
Saoirse Ryan is trouble, or as my father says: bad for business — just like her mother was all those years agowhen the last generation took over as the Kings of Killybegs.
I believe she's quite the opposite, especially if I can make her fall for me.
Unbeknownst to her, Saoirse holds the key to this empire. That much I’m sure of —my father wouldn’t be this threatened if she didn’t possess what it takes to ruin his plans. I know she’s the match I need to ignite to watch my father go up in flames, and that’s precisely why I let her go. She needs to come to me, and thankfully, I’m a patient man when it comes to getting what I deserve. The Killybegs empire will be mine, and Saoirse is the first step in making that a reality.
I need to be careful, though, because as much as I hate to admit it, nobody has ever looked at me the way Saoirse did that night. A wild, hypnotic blend of curiosity, excitement, fear, and lust rolled into a beautiful parcel of burnt oranges and rustic brown hues. It was those fucking eyes that made me halt and stop my pursuit. The same eyes that, if I let them, I know I’d lose my blackened soul to their depths.
Together, we’d be toxic, but I crave her, nonetheless.
I can’t let that happen, though.
Lust is for the weak, and love is for the poor — the only lesson my father taught me that holds any fucking substance.
Inserting myself into Saoirse’s life has one purpose, but if I get to fuck her while I screw her over, all the better for me.
“Rí, is it her?” Aodhán repeats, breaking through my fog.
“Yeah, it’s her.”
Finally, she lifts her head, peering left and right before reaching into her pocket and pulling out something that resembles a piece of paper.
My eyes never leave her as she glances from her hands towards the people bustling around the busy bus station and back again.
“What's our next move?”
“Walk towards her. She looks lost. See if she needs help.”
“Are you fuckin’ serious? Do I look like a tour guide?”
“Stop being a little bitch, Aodhán, and do what you are told.”
“For someone who detests his father so much, you’re soundinga lotlike him.”
“Fuck you.” I start my engine and press down on the accelerator, ready to put my next step into motion.
“Hey,” Aodhán protests. “Where the fuck are you going?”
“Devereux’s. Now, go…help the princess find her way. And Aodhán…”
“Yes, your lordship,” he teases as he strolls across the terminal towards his target.
“If you so much as flirt with her, I’ll rip your ball sack off and feed it to the pigs. Understood?”
“Loud and clear, arsehole. Loud and fuckin’ clear.”
