A furrow pinches between her brows, which smooths as quickly as it appears. “Is that what you want? For me to admit that I want you? That I care about you?” At her words, my body sways closer, an answer even though I haven’t said anything. Her lips tilt up, and she lifts a hand to my cheek, slapping it lightly. “Well, you can keep hoping and waiting, O’Connor. That’s never going to happen.”
“That’s not what it seemed like when you came all over my face. I bet you’re wet for me right now, aren’t you?” I grip the dress at her thigh and ruck the material up until I find skin. Her fingers claw at me, but I’m stronger. “Always such a slut for me.”
Her hand is up and cracking against my cheek, this time in earnest. My head whips to the side, face already stinging. She’s the personification of fury and defiance when I look back at her.
It’s not until seconds later that I realize the sound of music has swelled. The doors are open.
Rory and Elizabeth spill out onto the balcony seconds later, followed by more people, cameras raised and lights flashing as they take pictures.
CHAPTER 14
CATRIONA
O’Connor’s jawclenches, unclenchesin that way of his that I’ve already memorized, if I cared about memorizing anything about him. Then he’s moving with a muffled curse, and I flinch, curling inward and hoping to protect my face from his retaliation. My body trembles against his until I realize he’s not my father. He isn’t going to fight back with his fists.
Fireworks go off—no, that’s not right. There’s no sound other than the music from the party. It’s only the lights flashing that are temporarily blinding me. Disorientation mounts for a long minute.Get ahold of yourself, Ri, I hear Yasmine coaching in my head.
Not for the first time, I wish her schedule had allowed her to attend. She would have been able to tell me if I was hallucinating or not because there’s no way O’Connor’s arm is wrapped protectively around me. No way he has me huddled close against his body as he fights his way through a crush of spectators, ignoring my father’s protests.
But that’s exactly where I find myself, ears filled with O’Connor’s biting warnings as we move through the hovering crowd to the ballroom. My chest is tight as my thoughts race in an attempt to figure out what his game plan is going to be. Will he move us to a room with more privacy? Will he wait for later to dispense his revenge?
I shouldn’t have done that. I don’t know what I was thinking. The only person I’ve ever hit before was him, but that was different. He’d chased me through the estate at his masquerade to stop me from leaving. The circumstances here are wildly different.We’redifferent.
But now he needs me.
If he’s going to get the trip to Ireland he wants, he can’t hurt me.
The thought steadies me until we’re safely ensconced on the other side of the room, a couple of hundred people between us and the cluster of socialites.
I go through the motions, accept another drink, and take my place at the head of the table. A plate from the buffet is placed in front of me, and I eat mechanically, suddenly ravenous and hyperaware of O’Connor sitting next to me. Mara and Eamon are on the other side of him. The trio conducts an entirely silent conversation through lifted eyebrows and smirks, in a language of their own, which ends with Eamon sniggering and Mara looking very pleased.
O’Connor stretches an arm over the back of my chair, and I stiffen. “Stop looking like I’m going to hurt you, pet, or it’ll give the press more fuel, yeah?”
I eat, but I don’t taste it. It goes down like lead. Like other lawyers, I hate apologizing because it means I’ve done something wrong. “I shouldn’t have done that. I’m?—”
“If you say you’re sorry, I’m going to be disappointed. O’Connors don’t apologize.”
It’s so close to the thought I had only seconds ago that I’m speechless. Before I can untangle how to respond, we’re called away for more pictures with my father.
And Elizabeth.
Which turns out to be even more awkward than my entire evening with O’Connor. Father and Elizabeth get through the whole ordeal without saying a word to either of us, but still paint beatific smiles on their faces for the cameras. They don’t say a word about the scene they witnessed, but I do catch Elizabeth sending vicious glares my way.
Remembering my promise to O’Connor, I position myself at his side, wrapping one arm around his waist and placing my hand on his chest to display the rock of an engagement ring and matching band on my finger. He stuffs his free hand in his pocket, tilts his chin up imperiously, and winds his other arm around my waist. This is the only time Father and Elizabeth break character. It doesn’t make my smile deepen, just a little. It doesn’t make me shift closer, just a little. And I don’t feel vindicated.
Not at all.
What the fuck is he doing to me?
Later,after we say our goodbyes.
After Eamon and Mara eye us with discerning gazes.
After O’Connor speaks with the man I’ve learned is his assistant, Finn, to hopefully stop the release of those pictures to the masses.
After I flee upstairs to my room and lock myself in the bathroom.
I finally let myself think of O’Connor’s face after I slapped him. How good it had felt. How he’d looked.
