I’m foolishly flattered for all of about five seconds before remembering I’m here for a reason, and it’s not because I’m special. It’s because someone here is reporting back to his ex.
Which I suppose at least gives me the perfect excuse to give them something to report. ‘Is that so?’ I tilt my head round to Cillian’s and our eyes deadbolt. ‘I plan on being brought to the next fifty Christmas parties too. Especially if they start the way today did.’ The memories of earlier rotate freshly through my mind.
A satisfied smirk touches Cillian’s lips as a loud bell chimes through the castle. It’s time to move into the ballroom for dinner.
Alex looks up and sighs. ‘We’ll continue this conversation later.’
‘We won’t.’ Cillian assures him reassuming his resting bastard face, but it doesn’t fool me. Not anymore.
The ballroom is as spectacular as I remember with high ceilings, gilded oil painted landscapes, and thick velvet drapes.
There’s also another Christmas tree, even larger than the one in the atrium. Fresh flowers and designer candles decorate the tables. I follow Cillian to ours and am relieved we’re sitting with Beth and Carly. I’d like to get the opportunity to spend time with Lillian to win her over, but not with William being sleazy, rendering both of us uncomfortable.
Alex is nowhere to be seen, which is a blessing for Cillian’s molars, and his blood pressure. He was clearly vexed by Alex’s flirtation, but was it because it was an insult to him, or because he’s starting to feel something real for me?
The conversation flows effortlessly around us. For once, I sit back and don’t say much. Watching the subtle movement of Cillian’s lips as he talks is far more entertaining than anything I could come up with.
Oh, God. I’ve got it bad.
What will I do when this is all over?
When I have to go back to life without Cillian?
When Teagan leaves and he no longer needs me?
A warm hand glides across my thigh beneath the table, caressing my skin with delicate strokes. It’s not sensual, it’s reassuring. I peep sideways and our eyes meet in a brief but blistering exchange.
How did I ever mistake this man for cold?
Course after course of gourmet delicacies are placed before us.
The food is sublime.
The wine is divine.
But the company; the fleeting touches and lingering glances is what really makes my Huxley Castle experience one of the best evenings of my life.
After dinner, the tables are cleared and stowed away. The room is transformed back into what it’s meant to be, a ballroom. A band take to the makeshift stage and blast a mix of modern music and Christmas favourites. The dancefloor fills fast. People sway and jump to the beat.
Cillian does the rounds, making a point of speaking to every one of his employees, even if it’s brief. I stick close to Beth and Carly. They’re easy company.
A light tap on my shoulder sets the fine hairs on my neck standing. ‘May I have this dance?’ Alex Benedict’s smooth voice soars into my ear from behind.
I swivel on my heel and meet six feet of lean muscle.
‘You absolutely may not.’ Cillian appears at my side. ‘This one is mine.’
‘You never dance.’ Alex’s eyes glint with mischief.
‘I do now.’ Cillian’s tone is final as he pulls me into his chest and nudges me towards the dance floor.
‘The next one then?’ Alex calls to our backs.
Cillian flicks him the birdie over his shoulder. ‘I said she’s mine.’
My insides are doing victorious somersaults. He told me himself he never danced with Teagan. He refused to claim her as his, but he just claimed me in the sexiest, most possessive, public way. And I am so here for it.
Lillian and William waltz by us, Lillian’s jaw falls to her knees as she takes in Cillian spinning me around the floor. Her dull eyes light with a newfound understanding. She pauses mid-dance, shell-shocked. Her tight lips crack open in an authentic smile. She offers a very brief but very definitive thumbs up before resuming her waltz.
