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Unfortunately, there’s only one way to do that.
Marry her, and take back the Kings.
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Seeing her the next morning as we board the plane to Dublin doesn’t help matters. We’re flying commercial, but first-class. Saoirse boards first, pretty and poised in a pink and mint paisley skirt and a cream-colored sleeveless blouse, her red hair in a messy bun atop her head. She’s wearing sensible, nude high heels, and I can’t help but think that the entire ensemble is purposefully meant to contrast with what I dressed her in last night.
Even if she did do it on purpose, it can’t change how that tight skirt molds against her ass as she boards the plane, reminding me of how it felt in my hands. My cock twitches as I watch her walk, and I’m very cognizant of her father walking next to me.
Joke’s on you, old man. Last night I made your virginal princess come squealing with my finger in her asshole. The Irish rose certainly bloomed for me.
And she’ll keep blooming, as long as I want her to. All I have to do is marry her.
“Beats the economy flight I took here for sure,” Niall says as he steps in front of us both, boarding the flight ahead of Graham and me—and, more importantly, blocking my view of Saoirse. “Thanks for the tickets, man.” He gives me a cocky grin as he takes a seat in the aisle directly across from Saoirse, which leaves me only two choices—sit next to Saoirse and, by extension, him, or choose another spot.
I have no idea if Graham would have let me sit next to Saoirse anyway, but he motions to two seats several aisles behind the ones Niall and Saoirse chose. “Sit here, lad,” he says gruffly. “We have business to discuss.”
There’s nothing I want to do less than discuss business with Graham on this flight, even if it’s not overly long. But the victory isn’t worth the fight, so I take the seat, resolving to save my energy for conflicts that actually matter. It’s not as if I could have enjoyed the flight with Saoirse the way I’d like to anyway, with her father less than a foot away at all times.
I wouldn’t even be able to tease her about last night.
What does irk me, as the flight goes on, is the fact thatNiallis talking to her. I can’t quite make out what they’re saying as he’s speaking to her in a low voice, but the look in his eyes bothers me. Truthfully, considering his connection to Liam, I would have expected him to dislike Saoirse, even have some animosity towards her.
The way he looks at her isn’t that at all, though—and beyond that, it’s more than friendly, or respectful, or anything that would be proper for someone of his status and hers, especially considering that she’s all but betrothed to me.
The look in his eyes is almost one of longing—almost worshipful, the way a man might look at a woman he wants desperately but knows he can never have. One who he sees as beyond him, for all the reasons that Saoirse truly is.
“Niall Flanagan is a problem.” Jacob, who is up here with me while the rest of the gang flies coach and enjoys flirting with the flight attendants, leans over to murmur to me when Graham gets up to go to the bathroom. “He shouldn’t be here.”
I shrug, trying not to let on just how much Niall’s presence irritates me. “He’s here on his brother’s behalf. I can’t fault Liam for sending him, I suppose, once he found out what Graham and Saoirse were up to. It’s his neck on the line and a great deal more.”
“It’s not that.” Jacob gestures subtly toward the two of them. “You see him fawnin’ on her. She doesn’t seem to realize what’s happening, but that man’s got it bad for her. Probably has for years, since before she was supposed to be his best friend’s girl. Didn’t you say they grew up together?”
I try to remember exactly what I told Jacob, after kicking Graham and Saoirse out of the meeting, about my life growing up in Boston, my brother and Saoirse and Niall, and our circle. Niall is my age, but he’d been Liam’s friend. “He was a brother to Liam when I fell short,” I say gruffly. “Even if he was in love with her, he’d never touch her.”
“Are you sure about that?” Jacob looks at them and then at me skeptically. “What if he’s playing her to try to get her back on Liam’s side? To turn her against you?”
“I think that’s a bit paranoid.” I see Graham coming back then out of the corner of my eye and lean back in my seat, breaking off the conversation before he can get wind of it. But even as Graham retakes his seat and starts talking again, I can’t take my eyes off Niall and Saoirse.
They’ve stopped their conversation, whatever it was about, and Saoirse is reading a book quietly, a glass of water and a packet of crackers on the tray in front of her. Niall is fiddling with something on his phone—but from my vantage point, I can see his gaze slide towards her repeatedly. There’s nothing calculating in it that I can see, and I pride myself on reading people well.
It’s as if he just wants to look at her. Now more than ever, maybe, since she’s mine for the taking. If I marry her, she’ll be entirely out of his reach.
Or will she? What if he really does have designs on her, but not for Liam’s sake?
My reaction, much like last night when I’d remembered Saoirse’s quip about taking lovers, is instantaneous and burning jealousy. It’s the first time I’ve been confronted with an idea of justwhoshe might take to her bed besides me—and there’s no reason to think it really would be Niall—but my reaction is the same nonetheless.
I don’t want his filthy hands on her.
There might have to be an addendum to the arrangement,I think as I settle back in my seat, trying to focus on Graham’s droning voice and the meeting in Dublin ahead of us.That discretion Saoirse talked about goes for her as well. Whoever she fucks—I don’t want to know about it.
Of course, that means that I already care more than I should.
As we touch down in Dublin and disembark, my mind is still lingering on it. The men are behind us, and I notice that Saoirse goes straight to stand behind her father, Niall hanging back. If there’s anything between them, or if there used to be, she doesn’t seem to be interested in rekindling it or awareness that Niall does.
If he does.I’m forced to face the fact that it could just be my own newfound jealousy making all of this up.
“To the hotel?” Graham glances at me as Jacob pushes ahead to hail cabs for us. “What about the meeting with the Kings?”
