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I spot Olly by the bar. He’s the spitting image of a young Dougal. As I make a beeline for my long-lost son, I feel the heat of several men staring. I bet my blood-red lipstick, tight black leather pants, and deep red blouse with a few buttons undone are what draw their attention. The sultry swing of my hips wholly captivates them.
Oliver scans me up and down, unsure what to make of me. He must have inherited that suspicious look from me.
I stop a few feet from him, then cock a hip. “It’s so nice to formally meet you, Olly.”
“My name is Oliver,” he corrects. “Ava isn’t here if you are looking for her.” His eyes are cold and angry.
“You’re Dougal’s youngest, right?”
That grabs his attention. “I’m sorry, who are you, exactly? I knowallofmy father’s friends. You’re not one of them.” Something in his face alters. “If you are here to talk about Ava, see yourself out. She wants nothing to do with you.” He steps forward, crowding me against the bar.
“Surely, Anita and Dougal told you about me,” I ignore him.
His breath is hot on my face when he barks, “Listen, I don’t have time or energy to deal with whatever bullshit brings you here.”
“Olly, I’m your mother.”
He laughs a brittle, cold laugh. “Who put you up to this? Was it Cillian? My father?”
“Anita is not your mother.”
He takes another step forward, anger flaring in his eyes. “Anitaismy mother.”
“We can call her right now if you’d like. I was with your father, and you were a product of that love.”
“Stop lying. You’re Ava’s mother, not mine. Whatever game you’re playing won’t work on me.” His words sound uncertain. Like he’s worried I’m not lying.
“I gain nothing by lying. Ask them about Diana Byrne. They will confirm what I’m telling you. They won’t lie if they think you already know the truth.”
He’s silent for a couple of seconds before he eventually says, “Stop with the games and get the fuck out.”
“I wanted to meet my son. Your father stole you from me shortly after you were born.” His angry flare is back, and I milk it for all its worth. “He ripped you from my arms and took you away. I wanted to love you and take care of you, but he wouldn’t let me. He said I wasn’t fit to be your mother.”
“That’snottrue. My father…” he trails off.
“I just want a relationship with you. I want to know my son. Anita raised you, but Olly, I’m your mother. All I want is a chance to show you how much I love you.” I step closer to him, then flatten my hand on his chest, over his heart. He stares at my hand, then takes a step back. “Give me a chance to explain everything. You’re my beloved son.”
I’m giving him the performance of my life. It is an Oscar-winning performance. All I have to do is get him to doubt everything he knows. To convince him I’m the victim, and I would have never left him by choice.
But it seems as if he may need a little more convincing. “You need to get the fuck out.”
“You’re just like your father when he was your age. The same fire in your belly.”
“I won’t repeat myself.”
“What’s going on here?” a man asks, walking toward us.
“Nothing. She was just leaving,” Olly says, glaring at me.
“Just because you’re sending me away doesn’t change who I am.”
He scoffs before locking his eyes with the man approaching us. “Escort her out and never let her back inside.”
“Olly…”
He snaps his eyes to mine. “My name is Oliver Manarch, and my mother is Anita Manarch.” He acts as if he can’t see my head shaking. “See yourself out of my fucking life.”
When he storms away, I scramble to think of something to add to make him stay. I can’t afford to play all my cards right now.
