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three
Ivy
Later that Evening
“Slante!”
A group of older men slam their pints of Guinness to toast the end of a workweek. They aren’t the only ones. Kell’s Irish Pub is packed with people of all ages and ethnicities on Friday evening. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever experienced in my entire sheltered life.
Thrilling.
It’s been an epic day filled with indulgence. The best I’ve had in such along time.
I’d forgotten what it’s like to be, well, happy.
Three hours of dance class was an emotional, cathartic release. It felt like layers of my structured life were shed away forever, allowing my mind to heal a bit. Making me feel open to possibilities.
No, making me eager to pursue them. I’m brave. Confident. Comfortable in my own skin.
After class, I enjoyed a leisurely dinner at Matt’s in the Market, sitting at the big picture window overlooking the fish mongers. A beautiful girl with an incredible voice was busking. The halibut melted in my mouth. I was so content, I nearly didn’t follow through using my new fake ID.
Then I thought, why play it safe? A night out is my way of throwing caution to the wind. Today’s a milestone birthday and I deserve to have one drink to celebrate, even if it’s technically illegal.
The music is lively. The atmosphere is fun. It’s perfect here.
Tonight, my new identity, brave Ivy Davies, is going to dance with a cute guy, maybe two. Boring, scared Ivy Bright, heiress to Bright Shipping and Daddy’s puppet belongs in my mausoleum of a home. The tragic girl whose brother died on her birthday can stay there, as far as I’m concerned.
I make my way to the bar with a nervous flutter in my stomach. I already know what I want—an Espresso Martini. I hope the bartender doesn’t look too closelyat my ID. Then again, why would he? The doorman scrutinized it and let me in without a second glance. Pushing my way through the crowd, I feel another jolt of independence.
It’s addictive.
Rounding the corner, I zero in on the most handsome guy I’ve ever seen. He’s tall, roguish and radiates a powerful magnetism. Everything about him captivates me and I find myself heading toward him.
The pull is primal.
Undeniable.
As inevitable as the tide is drawn to the moon.
He wears worn jeans and a black, fitted T-shirt emblazoned with a construction company’s logo. Every muscle in his body is chiseled to perfection. A dark, unruly mop of hair nearly touches his shoulders and the stubble shadowing his square jaw gives him a wild, almost untamed look. He carries the confidence of someone who’s used to getting what he wants. Power radiates through every pore of his body.
His eyes, though. They’re kind and complicated. When they lock on mine, I’m enthralled by swirls of rich, earthy browns meshing with vibrant greens like a fairytale forest promising both danger and sanctuary.
The entire room fades away because our connection is instantaneous.
A jolt of electricity races through my body, rooting me in place a few inches in front of him. He takes me in with a slow, appreciative scan as though I’ve finally arrived. By the time his eyes return to mine, his lips curl into a naughty smirk and he nods. Like I passed his inspection. Immediately, my nipples harden into points and my pussy throbs with a need I’ve never known.
For a fleeting second, I forget why I’m here and who I’m supposed to be. And then, my entire world shifts on its axis forever. “Mo shíorghrá, I’ve been waiting for you.“ His deep slightly slurred voice has a faint hint of Irish lilt.
I’m momentarily taken aback because I don’t know whatmuh HEER-grawhmeans, but decide to play along. “Here I am.” I hardly recognize my breathy, flirtatious voice. “I’m sorry I’m late.”
His raucous laugh fills the space between us. He leans in and his hand brushes against my arm, sending a surge of warmth through me. I’m acutely aware of every detail of thisman—the breadth of his shoulders, the firmness of his arms, the dimple on his chin. He smells wonderful, like a hike through the woods on a clear day. “I’m Cillian. Are you ready to dance with me?”
“I thought you’d never ask.” I playfully push his arm.
Cillian intercepts my hand and leads me to the middle of the dance floor, where he pulls me against his granite chestand spans my waist with a firm, possessive grip. We begin to move in perfect sync to the rhythm of a slow, haunting melody. His breath is warm against my ear. “You’re absolutely captivating. Are you gonna tell me your name?”
I can’t help but stifle a giggle. It’s absurd to be intoxicated by an older guy who I’ve just met, but there’s no denying my attraction to him. I’m not usually a believer in woo-woo stuff, but meeting him weirdly feels like my destiny. Like I manifested this shit.
