With the salt and pepper flecks, his tangled dark waves made my palms itch with the need to tame them. Either that, or to make them a thousand times worse.
His bright green eyes were muted somehow, as if the feeling behind them was disconnected. Like he felt too much or as if he experienced it through a fog. His lips were thinner from the pressure he exerted on them too.
Considering his position, that didn't come as a shock, but still, it actually hurt to behold. How had the years we'd spent apart affected him? Changed him?
I knew who he was. I knew what he was.
That was how we'd met, after all.
When I'd tried to learn his family's dirty little secrets, and they'd sent him in to 'handle' me...
I had no rights to this man. Just as he had no rights to me. But that didn't take away that gnawing sensation inside me. Something told me—
"Savannah? Is your head still hurting from the fall? You really cracked it when you went down."
Oops. Apparently I had been lost to my contemplation of him for longer than I realized if he thought I was acting concussed. I didn't think his brothers would accept my drooling over their eldest sibling as a legitimate reason for hesitating over what I told him, either.
And 'cracked it' was an understatement. My chin felt like it had come up close and personal with Mike Tyson's fist.
"No. I'm fine. I promise," I assured him with a soft smile.
He dipped his chin, that sternness still there. A sternness I didn't remember. One that made something inside me squirm.
"Want to tell us what the hell's going on?"
I figured I owed them the truth. Plus, if Conor was allied with Star then that meant I'd been right to come to them. Surely they'd help keep me safe once they knew how important my work was?
God, I hoped so.
"I guess I need to start at the beginning."
"That would be helpful," Aidan confirmed, his tone deep.
His scowl made a reappearance a few seconds later. Reminding me to get a move on but also of how he'd yet to smile.
Aidan had been quick to laugh when I'd met him. A devilish twinkle in his eye at all times despite the reason behind our meeting.
What the hell was going on with him?
His mouth pursed.
Yes, I was looking.
Clearing my throat, I muttered, "You heard about what happened at TVGM?"
For the first time, I knew I sounded wary. He technically should know, but I had no way of measuring if he did or not.
Truth be told, the second I’d learned we had a casting couch at TVGM, the second I found out what the producers were doing, one bastard in particular—Derick Wintersen—I’d had to speak out.
My daddy, his reputation, who he was and our family status, had protected me. Dagger Daniels was American rock royalty. Whether I liked it or not, I was famous. As a kid, every part of mine and my siblings' childhoods had been documented in the press. That came with plenty of disadvantages, but many perks too.
Ironically enough, my dad had nothing to do with my getting a job on TV. That was down to a certain someone in this room.
Having been reared in a way I could only classify as traditional, especially considering O'Donnelly Sr.'s reputed obsession with the church, I half expected them to cast me disapproving looks for what I’d done. But the youngest, Eoghan, grunted, "That was bullshit. Why they fired you? No wonder they lost millions of viewers."
Yeah, TVGM, a morning show that aired nationally, hadn’t expected to lose a good chunk of its audience when they kicked me to the curb. Ha.
Though the loss hadn't earned me my job back, I was still pretty damn pleased that the American public had sided with my family, if not me, over the TV show.