This is where Cavin comes. Where he’s comfortable. Where women bow to him.
I remember what I saw online. I remember the way women fawned all over him.
I may be a virgin, but he’s definitely not. I don’t even want to think about what he’s done in here.
Is that jealousy I’m feeling?
No. I’m not… I’m notjealous. Why would I be jealous of a man I hate? I don’t even like the man. He can have all the fucking women he wants for all I care.
I swallow hard.
There’s a knock at the door. Cavin opens it, and Declan appears with Bridget at his side. He only opens the door a crack so she can’t see the details in here. And my god, if he opens it even further…
“You alright, Bridget?” I ask immediately.
“I’m fine.” Bridget’s eyes are wide. “What’s?—”
“She’s grand,” Cavin says. Then he tells Declan, “Take her to the lounge. Get her whatever she wants. We’ll be done here shortly. Take very good care of her, Declan. Don’t let her out of your damn sight.”
Declan nods. Before I can protest, he adds, “Wait for us in the club.” Then he turns to my sister. “Bridget.” Not a question, a command wrapped in her name.
“Yes?” Her voice goes small, childlike. Even I gulp.
“Do you have a purple band on your arm as well?”
She swallows, then nods.
“Take itoffher.” The words come out cold and commanding—not to Bridget, but to Declan—an order that doesn’t allow for debate.
Declan curses under his breath, and the door clicks shut behind them.
Now it’s just us.
Why do I like the fact that Cavin is looking out for my little sister?
He isn’tprotectingher,he’s just…
He turns to me, and the room shifts again. I lose all train of thought. Ineverlose my train of thought.
This time, the downshift feels heavier. Weighted.
“Do you haveanyidea what you did tonight?” His voice is controlled, but I can hear the anger simmering underneath. “You came into my club. My territory. Without permission. Without telling me. Without reading my texts. Without even understanding what you were walking into, and you told everyone thatmyfiancée wasfree to take.”
Well. That does sound sort of terrible when he puts it that way…
He takes a step closer, then another, until there’s hardly a fragment of space between us.
“This isn’t some casual place where you grab a pint and go home. This is where I come to forget the world exists. Where normal rules don’t apply. Or… I used to, anyway,” he says.
“What does that mean?”
His eyes narrow on me. “You sat in my club, looking like that, with a signal on your fucking arm that you were available. That our engagement meansnothing.”
He points a finger at my chest. It doesn’t hurt, but I’m hyperaware of every nerve ending it comes in contact with.
“Andyouareanythingbut available. Every fucking man in that room was wondering if you were fair game. And do you know what I would have had to do if they’d touched you? If they’d come anywhere near you?”
I shake my head, speechless. Do I want to?—
