Eve was quiet and reserved, shy and a bit awkward.
I sigh.
I’m… nothing like that.
I live for experiences and opportunities. Parties and travel, twinkling lights and bone-stirring music, the rich taste of buttery scones and hot, cream-laced tea. I love these things.
Eve was an introverted vegan.
Whereas Eve was quiet and cautious, I’m loud and impulsive. Eve was a loner, who kept to herself. I have a large circle of friends and live to be around others. And we looked absolutely nothing alike.
What does he see in me?
How could he be attracted to a girl like me?
I go back to the room quickly to gather my things. I have to get home. My bag’s in the corner of the room, a large, roomy one that flops onto the floor next to a bookshelf. I bend to get it, and something catches my eye.
All of the books on the bookshelf are faced the right way, dusted and arranged just so. The bottom of the shelf is raised from the floor on little wooden knobs, and just below the base of the shelf is the edge of a book cover.
He must’ve missed this. The rest of his place is so tidy, he wouldn’t have left a book on the floor. I slide a finger beneath the bottom shelf and push the book out. I glance quickly at the book, then the door. His voice is still in the kitchen.
This is not a book. It’s a diary. A diary someone’s hidden.
I remove it and glance quickly through the pages.
Eve’s handwriting. We studied together. Though there’s no signature, I recognize her trademark slants and swirls.
“Megan?”
My head snaps up, and guilt suffuses me. Will he think I’m snooping?
His voice grows louder as he comes closer. In a panic, I shove the book into my bag.
“Just a minute!” I shout. “Dropped an earring.”
He steps into the room just as I straighten.
“Did you find it?” he asks.
“Aye,” I say. “Breena ready to go?”
“Needs a few minutes.”
His phone rings. “Keenan,” he mutters.
“Let me go ahead.”
I leave before he responds, telling myself it’s best if we go at separate times. I’m not running. I’m saving both of us from an embarrassing and possibly complicated situation.
God, I’m a mess.
I go ahead of him back to the mansion and get an idea before I get there. I send Aileen a quick text.
Girl. Help!!
Her response comes a minute later. What is it??? You ok?
I need to get inside. I had a one-night stand, yes I will fill you in later, not now. I’m still in the manky clothes from the night before, need to get in and up to my room without any of the men seeing.
There’s a pause. I see the little dots on the screen indicating she’s typing, but then it stops a few times. I’m hiding under the shaded trellis in the garden like a teenager.
I sigh. Aileen wouldn’t abandon me, would she?
My phone buzzes, and I look for the text from Aileen, but it isn’t what I expected at all.
Sir.
I smile to myself. I cannot believe he had the bollox to put his name in my phone like that.
I’ve only sipped from the cup he has to offer. What more is there? I want to drown in it.
Sir: Are you being a good girl?
A rush of heat flares through me. I can hear the tone in his text, the deep timbre of his voice, controlled and hard with barely tempered dominance. I felt his cane. My body trembles with the memory of the way he mastered me last night. My hand shakes when I text back. I bite my lip.
No, sir.
I smile at the thought of my text showing up on his screen. I put my name in as Good Girl.
I hold my breath waiting for his response, and when my phone buzzes again, I’m almost disappointed it’s a text from Aileen.
Aileen: Come in through the garden entrance. Sorry, Cormac was talking to me, but he’s taken the kids to breakfast now. We’re good. I’ll get you up to your room and make sure no one sees you.
I have to make my move now, even though I’m waiting on Carson’s response. I shove my phone in my bag, kicking myself for not thinking of grabbing a change of clothes. But who knew? How was I supposed to know a night like that would change… well, damn near everything?
But I don’t cower and hide. I own who I am and what I do, and I’m not going to stop being who I am now.
Still, I’d rather not do the walk of shame in front of those overbearing cousins of mine. So I look to the right, then left, and scurry like a little church mouse and nearly run to the side entrance of the house.
I get about two paces when I hear, “Ah, now cousin, looks like you had quite a night, then?”