“I don’t want you thinking this is all for you or any nonsense like that,” he continued, prickly as always. “So get that through your mind, alright? You’ve always got your head stuck in the clouds and I need you to understand this is for work and work alo—”

  Declan’s words were abruptly cut off as I suddenly rushed forward and wrapped my arms around his broad, strong chest. It was like hugging a steel beam—cold, hard, and unmovable—but I squeezed tightly because I knew there was a heart deep in there and I wanted it to feel me.

  Declan tensed immediately as I laid my cheek against his chest. He held his arms out like a stiff coat rack, and I wasn’t entirely sure whether he was still breathing or not. I knew he could throw me off of him like a rag doll and I could do nothing to stop him. But he didn’t.

  After a few breathless moments, Declan tentatively rested his big, callused palms on my back. His skin was warm through my thin periwinkle sweater. We stood together like that long enough for our heart rates to leap against one another’s.

  Then Declan cleared his throat, patted my back like a dog, and stepped back awkwardly. “I have to get back to training,” he muttered, placing the scowl back on his stern face.

  He turned without another word and marched back down the hallway with hurried steps.

  “Thank you,” I shouted after him as I watched him go.

  He called back grumpily, “Not for you, hippie girl.”

  I grinned. “Okay.”

  Before he turned the corner, I heard him grumble without looking back, “And stop that incessant smiling.”

  I laughed and shook my head before going back inside the darkroom that definitely, without a doubt, in no uncertain terms, absolutely wasn’t for me.

  River

  “Cancel your plans this Saturday night.”

  I glanced up from my plate of rabbit ragu gnocchi to raise a curious eyebrow at Declan across the corner of the dining room table. “Excuse me?”

  Without giving me the courtesy of eye contact, Declan raised another forkful of pasta to his mouth and said, “I need you for a black-tie event in the city on Saturday.”

  I narrowed my eyes, leaned back in my chair, and crossed my arms over my chest, doing the impossible—temporarily ignoring my deliciously steaming gnocchi and the mouthwatering scent wafting toward my nostrils.

  “Saturday is my day off,” I said. “Surely you haven’t forgotten the terms of my employment already?”

  Declan still kept his eyes focused on his plate as he tapped a finger against his knife.

  “Well?” I pushed. “I don’t want to spend my Saturday night holding your BlackBerry or fetching you diet-approved hors d’oeuvres, or live streaming rich people drinking champagne and talking about stocks and bonds.”

  I waited for a response.

  “Declan?” I finally asked irritably.

  “It’s not work.” His words were mumbled under his breath.

  I wasn’t sure I heard him even though we were sitting on the same corner. “What?”

  “It won’t be work, alright?” Declan looked up at me then, and his eyes searched mine as he hesitated. He set his fork and knife carefully down, then placed his hands in his lap. “You’ll be going with me.”

  I unfolded my crossed arms. “You mean...?”

  Declan rolled his eyes and sighed. “You’ll be accompanying me.”

  “Like…no Job Manual?”

  Clearly uncomfortable, Declan rubbed his temples.

  “No BlackBerry?” I continued. “No to-do list? No—”

  “You’ll be my date, okay? Satisfied?” he barked. “Is that clear enough?”

  A tense silence settled between us, and I reached for my glass of wine to take a sip. As I twisted the sweet wine around my tongue, I twisted his words around my mind, tasting each and every syllable.

  Declan bristled impatiently as the length of my silence stretched, stretched, stretched.

  “Ask me,” I finally said in a voice barely louder than a whisper.

  “What?” Declan growled.

  Past the bottles of wine, past the glassware, the table runner, the flower vase, past the flames dripping wax down the tall silver candlesticks, I levelled my eyes on him. Warm green against icy blue. A morning ray of sunlight against a raging storm. A velvet petal against a deadly frost.

  “Ask me,” I repeated. I made sure he heard me this time. “If you’re asking me,” I said, “if this isn’t work, if this isn’t an order from an employer to an employee, then don’t command me.”

  Declan’s gaze was fixed on me.

  Mine did not waver. “Ask me.”

  The length of the flames dancing on the wicks of the candles didn’t grow, but the temperature of the dining room seemed to raise significantly as we stared into each other’s eyes.

  We were two opponents in a cage, he and I. Nothing but ferocity, challenge, and intensity in our locked gaze. The only thing left to be decided was whether we would step away and each leave the cage…or whether we would crash into each other.

  The spell snapped instantly as Oisin sashayed into the dining room with two chocolate souffles and a bellowing voice. “Dessert ti—oh shit, I just interrupted something, didn’t I?”

  Both Declan and I shook our heads and sank back in our chairs, as far away from one another as possible. I hadn’t realised how close I had leaned toward him, and I was sure after a quick glance in his direction that he felt the same confusion.

  “What’s going on?” Oisin asked warily. “Should I leave? I should leave.”

  Oisin was hurrying to escape the tense dining room after placing the desserts on the table when Declan insisted he stay.

  “There’s no need to leave,” he assured the chef. “There’s nothing going on.”

  My heart sank at the sound of his words. I’d pushed him too far. I laid my cards out on the table and he didn’t care. He would find someone else to attend the event with him. Or better yet, he would go alone.

  He said it plain and clear—there was nothing going on between him and me. Nothing.

  My rabbit ragu gnocchi tasted like cement in my mouth as I chewed a small bite, and I knew it wasn’t because of Oisin’s cooking.

  “We were just discussing that black-tie event in Dublin this weekend,” Declan continued, though I barely heard him. It felt like there was cotton stuffed in my ears. “And I was just about to ask River something.”

  My name on his lips surprised me. I looked up from pushing food about my plate to find both Oisin and Declan assessing me.

  “Well, don’t stop on account of me.” Oisin’s grin was practically giddy as he glanced back and forth between us.

  I watched as Declan adjusted himself in his chair across from me, showing again how uncomfortable he was with all of this. Finally he settled, looked over at me, and even attempted a smile. “River, would you like to accompany me this Saturday night?” he asked. “I’d very much enjoy your company.”

  A squeal escaped Oisin’s lips before he slapped his hands over his mouth. “Sorry, sorry,” he whispered through his fingers. “Act like I’m not even here.”

  I shook my head before returning my attention to Declan.

  He was looking at me expectantly, waiting.

  “Okay,” I said.

  “Yes!” Oisin shouted.

  I caught what looked like a relieved exhale, but Declan quickly covered it up by reaching into his back pocket and pulling out his wallet. I frowned in confusion as he pulled out a black credit card for Oisin. “Get her anything she needs,” Declan said as he handed over the card. “A dress, shoes, whatever.”

  I frowned between the two of them. “Umm, I already have a dress.” I’d wear my yellow sundress, maybe. Or the lavender one even.

  “My little voodoo queen.” Oisin walked over and cupped my cheek. “You may have a dress, but for this you need a dress.”

  “But I—”

  “Get ready for the most extravagant shopping trip of your life, baby doll.” He gave me a wink. “Better get a good night’s sleep.” He patted my cheek before disappearing through the door leading out of the dining room. “And before you ask, no,” he shouted back to me from down the hallway. “You can’t go barefoot!”

  I glanced nervously at Declan. A new dress, new shoes, the whole makeover thing, that wasn’t me. I thought I was done trying to pretend to be someone else, acting this way, dressing that way, laughing at jokes that weren’t funny, wearing shoes… I was already getting uncomfortable just thinking about a formal event, tugging at my collar and wiggling my toes in my sneakers.

  “This thing,” I asked slowly, afraid to hear the answer. “It’s fancy?”

  Across the table, Declan shrugged. “I guess.”

  I drummed my fingers nervously on the edge of the table. “Um, like how fancy would you say?”

  Declan stretched his arm past his untouched wine glass for his souffle. “I don’t know,” he answered with disinterest. “It’s black tie.”

  My heart rate skyrocketed. “Black tie?!”

  Declan’s lips pursed in confusion around his spoon. “Didn’t I say it was black tie?” he asked.

  “Did you?” I tried to remember back to what he had said, to what exactly he had said.

  “I’m pretty sure I did,” Declan said.

  Peculiar, I thought. Very peculiar. I hadn’t heard him say black tie. In fact, as I considered it over my chocolate souffle that melted in my mouth, I really had no idea in the slightest what exactly I had just agreed to going to. I didn’t have a clue.

  All I had heard was that Declan wanted to go with me.

  Me.

  River

  It was a stroke of good Irish luck that the first dress boutique Oisin and I hit that morning in Dublin had a full-size kelly-green tufted velvet couch in the posh dressing room, because just one glance at the price tags hanging from the dresses Oisin picked out to start with, and I was ready to pass out.

  “What’s taking so long?” Oisin shouted from just outside the burgundy silk divider.

  He was already three mimosas in from our breakfast at the Merrion Hotel after checking our bags in early.

  “I’m coming, I’m coming,” I grumbled.

  I was still slightly irritated at him from earlier that morning. It had just been the two of us in the warm, elegant Garden Room at the Merrion since Declan decided to get in a training session at his gym down the road. Yes, his gym. The man also owned a chain of gyms across Europe.

  “Alrighty then, let’s see here…” I had been scanning the most glorious breakfast menu I’d ever seen as the poised and polished waiter held his black pen in his crisp white glove at the ready above his cream notepad. “So I’ll have the raspberry and toasted coconut pancakes, the croissant French Toast with blackberries, the fresh herb and zucchini frittata with, um, let’s make it two servings of the maple candied bacon, and—”

  Oisin had slipped the menu from my fingers and smiled up at the waiter. “She’ll have a black coffee and a spinach smoothie. And ask the chef to throw in some cayenne if he can, please. Thanks, doll.” Oisin winked up at the waiter.

  I glared at him. “What was that?” I asked when he walked away.

  “I was flirting to get his number, obviously,” Oisin answered, tucking his napkin into his shirt to prepare for his pancakes.

  “No.” I rolled my eyes. “I mean with my breakfast. I’m not Declan. I don’t want a smoothie.”

  “I’m doing you a favour,” he insisted. “Have you ever tried slipping into a formal dress with a full stomach?”

  I pouted the whole breakfast, eyeing his maple syrup-smothered pancakes enviously, but as I struggled to tug up the first body-tight evening gown in the dressing room, I realised he might have had a point. Not that I would ever admit it…

  Once it was up…mostly, I nearly tripped on my way out to show Oisin. I grabbed onto the silk drape and feared I’d yank the whole thing down on top of me. Thankfully, Oisin hurried to my aid, catching me as I stumbled forward and somehow managing not to spill his mimosa in the process.

  “Such elegance, my little voodoo queen,” he joked before he downed the rest of his drink, set down the glass before arranged me in front of the trifold full-length mirror.

  I wobbled a bit as he zipped me up, arranged the dress around me, and fidgeted with bits here and there till he was fully satisfied with the finished product. Finally, he stepped back, shaking his head slowly back and forth. “Wow,” he whispered in awe.

  I could only frown at the image in the mirror in front of me. I was in a strapless black chiffon dress that was pleated from head to toe in such a way that it hugged my body so tightly, it accentuated every womanly curve and at the same time hid all the “maybe I didn’t need two chocolate souffles after all” ones. I had to admit that the woman standing in front of me looked beautiful, but that woman was not me. I was struggling to express this when Oisin stepped close to me and caught my eye in the mirror.

  “Not quite right, eh?”

  I shook my head before raising a curious eyebrow up at him. “How’d you know?”

  Oisin grabbed the end of my chin and squeezed. “Because, my dear, you’re standing like a plastic manikin on a stick instead of a gorgeous dandelion dancing in the sun.”

  I laughed and he reached for the zipper at the back of the dress.

  “We have plenty more to try on.” He smiled at me in the mirror. “I want to see you dance.” He paused and glanced over at his empty mimosa glass. “Plus, I haven’t had nearly enough mimosas yet.”

  All the rest of the morning and late into the afternoon we bounced from expensive boutique to expensive boutique to “fuck, I didn’t know things could be this expensive” boutique, trying on dress after dress after dress. It was unlike anything I’d ever experienced in my life. The staff in each boutique greeted us with champagne bubbling with raspberries or wine spritzers topped with a bouquet of beautiful, brightly coloured edible flowers or gin and tonics complete with an artfully twisted burned lime zest. There were plates set up with French cheeses, berries, and tiny sponge cakes Oisin kept smacking my hand away from. Women with sharply tailored black suits helped me into extravagant dresses, each more lovely and stunning than the next. It was a day out of a fairy tale with Oisin being my fiercely dressed godmother, and yet I couldn’t help but sag to the floor and flop onto my back in the last dress at the last store.

  I groaned and stared up at the crystal chandelier above my head in a gold silk dress with a thigh-high slit, plunging back, and a price so large they barely managed to fit it on the tag. “I’ll have to go naked,” I moaned as I blindly reached for the tray of Belgian chocolates that Oisin quickly snatched away from me. My hand flopped in defeat onto the white marble floor. “That’s it!” I cried. “I’m going naked.”

  The store attendant with a tight bun and severe black glasses eyed me from the dress rack. “Umm, she really shouldn’t be lying on the ground if she doesn’t intend to buy the dress,” she said to Oisin with a cold stare.

  “Can’t you see the girl’s having a breakdown?” Oisin replied. “I’ll buy the dress if it makes you feel better. I’ll buy the whole store, the floor included, if it makes you feel better.”

  I heard a huff and then the aggravated click, click of sharp heels and then a sigh as Oisin joined me on the floor. He patted my arm as I wallowed in my self-pity. All that delicious food left unconsumed and for nothing! That was the real tragedy.

  “Really, dear, don’t fret. We’ll find you something,” Oisin attempted to cheer me up. “There are more stores still open for a little bit and—”

  “None of them are going to work and you know it,” I said, turning my head to him. “You know it.”

  Oisin opened his mouth, hesitated, and instead leaned over to grab a wine glass of a crisp, sweet rosé. He took a swig and then passed it over to me.

  “They’re all so tight I can’t even walk,” I bemoaned before raising the glass to my own lips. “How am I supposed to talk to all those rich people about like, I don’t know, which offshore banks they recommend for tax evasion or where to buy a baby tiger and shit when I’m busy tugging up the front of my dress or making sure my leg slit isn’t showing my hoo-ha. Or resisting the urge to tug at my wedgie because the material is so thin I had to wear a thong the width of dental floss?”

  I passed back the wine glass to Oisin. This dress was beginning to suffocate me as I imagined being lost in a crowd of formally dressed strangers, shoulders bumping into me, angry, irritated words shot at me to get out of the way. I could feel my ribs closing around my heart, which was thudding more and more rapidly. Oisin was actually going to have to end up purchasing this dress after all, because I was sweating. And not like model-in-yoga-pants-commercial level of sweating. I mean sweating.

  “I’m not meant to be a part of this world.” I shook my head. “I shouldn’t be here.” I sat up and struggled to get the zipper down so I could rip off the restrictive dress and go running butt-ass naked down Grafton Street.

  Oisin stopped me with a gentle hand on my shoulder. “You know, my little voodoo queen,” he said with a grin. “This isn’t the first time I’ve heard nearly those exact same words.”

  I looked up at him and listened while resisting the urge to squirm in the dress.

  “Years ago I was in a locker room with a young, wide-eyed, fire-souled kid right before his first big fight,” Oisin explained, his eyes twinkling in remembrance. “He was a nobody kid with an unconventional fighting style no one had ever seen before, an unconventional fighting style no one believed could win in the cage. He was told to change or lose.”

  “What happened?” I asked with whispered breath.

  Oisin smiled down at me and plopped the tip of my nose. “He fought his way.”

  “And won?”

  Oisin winked and then leaped to his feet, downed the rest of his rosé, and held out a hand for me.

  I lifted a wary eyebrow at him.

  He wiggled his fingers impatiently. “Come on,” he said as he tugged me unsteadily to my toe-pinching stilettos that I wanted to burn. Oisin rubbed his hands together and smiled. “I’ve got an idea.”

 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35