Silence spans between us as she processes. Finally, her focus falls to the steaks sizzling in the pan. ‘You can cook.’ Surprise laces her tone.
‘Yes. Miranda, my chef, doesn’t work weekends. I’m not usually here. Sheila left half an hour ago. Thank fuck. The last thing we need is her hovering around, watching us like a hawk. Though I’d bet my life, she’ll be back first thing. Her hours aren’t set like the rest of the staff. I had to lie to her. Tell her we’ve been seeing each other secretly for a couple of months. I don’t like lying, but Sheila’s version of events will support ours. Having a housekeeper with a huge mouth has its advantages as well as disadvantages.’
Aoife arches her eyebrows, but she doesn’t speak.
I reach for a utensil to flip the meat with.
She takes a tentative step closer. ‘I can help.’
‘You can carry that through to the dining room, if you like.’ I motion to the bowl of salad. ‘I’ll be through in a couple of minutes. There’s wine on the table. It’s from the Beckett family vineyards. Help yourself.’
When I carry the steaks through to the dining room, Aoife is fiddling with the hem of her dress, staring out the double doors overlooking the pool. Both wine glasses are filled to the brim. Good. It might loosen her up.
I place a plate down, and her eyes linger on mine for a beat before she drags them to her steak and keeps them there.
I slip into the seat directly opposite her and sweep a hand towards the pool. ‘This place isn’t what you expected, huh?’
‘Definitely not.’
I shrug. ‘You were probably expecting some sort of dark, murky villain’s lair.’
She snorts, and I know I’ve hit the nail on the head.
‘No bad deeds occur within these four walls.’ It’s the truth. ‘In fact, nothing really occurs within these four walls.’
‘So I heard.’ She arches a single eyebrow.
‘Fucking Sheila,’ I wince. ‘What did she say? If she weren’t Mama K’s best friend I’d have fired her years ago.’
Aoife reaches for her wine, eyeing me cautiously over the rim of the glass. ‘Am I really the first woman you brought home?’
I inhale deeply. ‘Yes.’
‘But why?’ She takes a sip, staring at me curiously over the rim like she’s trying to work me out. Good luck with that.
I pick up my cutlery. ‘I never met anyone I wanted to bring home before.’
She arches her eyebrows but says nothing. I reach for the salad bowl at the same second she does. Our fingers brush and hot flames lick over my knuckles, soar up my arms and straight over my spine. She startles. Oh, she definitely feels the same sharp, shocking electricity that bolted through me.
‘You go on,’ we both say at the same time.
I gesture for her to help herself.
‘Thank you.’ She fills her plate and then passes me the bowl, but this time she’s careful to ensure we don’t touch. ‘The steak is amazing.’
‘I’m not just a pretty face,’ I joke. No one has ever called me pretty before. Brutal, yes, psychotic, absolutely, Sir—hell yes—but never pretty.
She huffs out a little laugh and something squeezes in my chest. Something that I haven’t felt for a very long time.
10
DOMINIC
‘Thank you again,’ she says quietly when she’s finished eating. ‘For everything.’ She glances at her empty plate, then to the wine in front of her. Maybe it’s the wine, or maybe she’s starting to believe that I won’t hurt her, but there’s a definite lowering of armour over the past couple of hours.
‘Don’t thank me, sweetheart. Marrying me will protect you, but make no mistake,’ my eyes stray to her full lips. ‘My intentions aren’t all honourable.’
She shudders. ‘At least you didn’t threaten to fuck every hole I own.’ She shudders, and I vow to fuck every hole Rory Kavanagh owns with a splintered baseball bat.
