“You
got any mates? I’m looking for someone like you.”
Carys
tightens her grip on me and sips her whiskey. “She’s taken. Keep your mitts off
her.”
He
raises his glass, eyeing me over the top. “People who can be bought aren’t for
me, Carys. You know that.”
She
scoffs. “Not true, Lorcan. I do know
you. I’ve played this all wrong. I should have told you she was thinking about
leaving my organization.”
“I am terribly unhappy.” My gaze connects
with Lorcan’s, and I offer a mischievous smile.
An
answering smile spreads across his face. “That so? Now, Carys, you need to
treat your everything woman a touch
better before someone swoops in and sweeps her away.”
“As
long as you aren’t the someone,
Lorcan.” She glances at me. “I appreciate the effort, but I’m afraid once he’s
on the hunt, he can’t be deterred.”
“You
make me sound terrible.” Amusement pours out of him.
“I
used to like you,” Carys says. “Finn, on the other hand…”
“…
is an acquired taste.” Lorcan’s grin fades. “One I’ve gone off recently.”
She
glances at me and then back to Lorcan. I’ve seen that look on her face before.
She’s trying to figure out the best approach.
“Sorry
to hear that,” I murmur, surprised by the sudden chill in the air.
His
lips quirk up. “You wouldn’t be sorry if you knew him.” He empties his whiskey.
“It’s been a pleasure, ladies. Thank you for the drink. You know me well,
Carys.” With a nod to his men, Lorcan drifts into the crowd, leaving me and
Carys to finish our drinks on our own.
“Shit.”
She sighs and taps her glass with a fingernail. “I should have left Finn out of
it.”
“Can’t
ask him if he wants a deal without letting him know there’s a deal to be done.”
“Their
organization buys arms, just not from me.” Carys purses her lips. “It should be
me. It’d be a good time to slip in there. Maybe we can still salvage it later.”
“Are
you doing that or…”
“If
you get a chance to ask, fine by me. Plant a seed, see if it grows.”
Lorcan
breezes through the crowd with his two burly security guards trailing behind
him. He’s a small fish in an arms world. Carys does much bigger, more ethically
comprised deals than this. She hasn’t let me near those yet. If I get out of
here tonight with what I want, I’ll never see them. I’m going to need to work
fast to recapture his attention. His late arrival means there are two hours
until this event finishes, and he’s cut our conversation short.
“I’ll
see what I can do.”
“You’re
not one to be charmed,” Carys draws out the words, and I think she must be
watching Lorcan like me.
I
smirk and raise my eyebrows. “Is there a but?”
A
smile plays on her lips. “No, I suppose there isn’t.”
“You’ve
got nothing to worry about,” I say. “If I can get him to consider a deal, I
will. And, if not, it’s been a pleasant evening. We haven’t been to an event
like this in a while.” I knock back the rest of my whiskey and wiggle my glass
at her. “Another?”
“No,
I have people I want to connect with. Tonight is bigger than I expected.”
“I’ll
be at the bar.”
Carys
and I move in opposite directions as she heads off to make or solidify her
contacts. I sidle up to the bar and place my empty glass to the side. This end
of the bar is for standing, but farther down, there are a number of stools with
people perched on them, chatting away to each other. The ballroom is vast and
airy, though the perfume and cologne circulating are enough to cause an asthma
attack. Above the bar, pendulum lights are set low to match the rest of the
mood lighting. Most of the charitable events I’ve attended with Carys have been
dimly lit. It must seem too intrusive to ask for money with the brightness
turned to full.
I’m
waiting for the bartender, wondering how I can slip myself into conversation
with Lorcan when a shoulder brushes mine.
“Be
a shame for someone as talented as you to be unhappy with your employer,” a
deep voice says in my ear. His lilting accent is a sound I could get used to.
It calls me back to the hours my father spent devouring anything Irish.
He’s
so close, Lorcan’s hazel eyes are piercing in their intensity. The musky scent
of his cologne floods my senses, and I’m glad for my training. Cool.
Unaffected. “How do you know I’m talented?”
“Carys
isn’t one for bigging people up who don’t deserve it.” He turns away to signal
the bartender with a finger. “Two whiskeys.”
In
this business, men are everywhere. But there’s something in the curve of his
shoulders, the slant of his jaw under the goatee, which makes him familiar.
Part of his appeal has nothing to do with appearance and everything to do with
the way he carries himself. Confidence seeps out of him, oozing over everything
he touches.
The
bartender passes the two glasses to us, and I pick mine up with my fingertips,
swishing it around, letting the ice clink against the sides.
His
back is against the bar railing, and his elbows are on the wood, so he can
stare out across the wide expanse of the room. When he shifts toward me, his
gaze connects with mine over the rim of his glass. “When are you heading home?”
“Tomorrow
afternoon. Carys offered to show me some sites around Boston.”
One
side of his mouth twitches as though he’s holding in his amusement. “Sounds
grand.”
“Does
it?” I avoid looking at him directly, keeping my back to the room.
“Not
quite as grand as coming round to mine for a meeting.”
“What
would we be meeting about?” I peer into my glass, hope rising in me.
“See
if one of us can make the other an offer they can’t refuse.”
“I
get offers all the time. I refuse them all.” Our little game of cat and mouse
amuses me, but I keep my features smooth.
“You
never had one from me.”
Somehow,
I’ve managed to finish another drink. “I guess we’ll see what you’ve got then.
I’m a tough nut to crack.”
He
places his finished drink onto the bar. “I’m counting on it. Tell Carys to call
me.”
When
I turn around, he and his men are gone.
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About Wendy Million
Wendy
Million is an award-winning author whose contemporary romances about strong
women and troubled men have captivated her loyal readers. She is the author of
the contemporary second-chance romances, When Stars Fall and Miss Matched.
Writing as W. Million, she is the author of the Bellerive Royals series.
When not
writing, Wendy enjoys spending time in or around the water. She lives in
Ontario, Canada with two beautiful daughters, two cute pooches, and one
handsome husband (who is grateful she doesn’t need two of those).
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