Page 1 of Fake It For Him

1

CALAN

Four Years Ago

My nose and jaw throbbed as I dropped into the backseat of an iconic Edinburgh black cab. I cursed under my breath when my ass hit the leather and the jarring made another sharp bolt of pain shoot from my nose.

“Where to, sir?” The cabbie glanced at me in the rearview mirror, his accent heavy and a gray woolen cap pulled down low over his forehead.

I kept my sleeve pressed against my nose in an attempt to keep the blood from ruining my shirt, and I tried to pluck the name of my hotel out of my alcohol-soaked brain. “The, uh, the Dalhousie Castle.”

His eyes widened and he paused for a beat before he shrugged and pulled away from the curb. “That’s a nice place. The real McCoy. King Edward the First was a guest there once upon a time.”

“Yeah, I know.” Spare me the history lesson.

Thankfully, the man shut up as he navigated away from the venue, turning from one darkened street into another, and then another. Leave it to my brother to make us travel all the damn way to Scotland and then not even have the decency to choose a place close to anything.

I groaned as I leaned against the seat, tilting my head back in the hopes that I could stop using my sleeve to stem the tide of blood. Maybe even see if there was any crunching of bone if I poked myself.

Holy hell, I can’t believe Finn did this. Who knew he had it in him?

All my life, I’d thought my brother was the type to sue rather than throw a punch. Guess I was wrong. Asshole.

I sighed, but then I gagged when I realized I was still bleeding—into my mouth now that my head was tilted back—and that the taste of blood and whiskey didn’t go well together. I slid my sleeve to my nose again, sitting up as a wave of irritation rolled through me.

“Fucking Finlay. Sucker-punching me like a coward. The nerve. The fucking nerve.”

As I vented to myself, the cabdriver glanced up again, but this time, he took a proper look at me in the mirror, saw I was bleeding everywhere, and jerked the steering wheel to pull over. “You’re going to have to get out, sir. I won’t have blood on my seats. It’s the festive season. I’m too busy to get her cleaned.”

I bristled, my eyes narrowing as I glared at him. “Just take me to the hotel and I’ll pay extra.”

“No, sir. You can get out here.”

“You’re kicking me out?” Disbelief rippled through me. “Seriously? It’s fucking freezing out there.”

The man nodded. “I’m sorry, sir. You’re bleeding.”

“Yeah, I know.” I shook my head and then immediately regretted it when more pain flared through me. Gritting my teeth, I dug into my pocket with my free hand, pulled out a bill, and tossed it at him before I climbed out. “Thanks for nothing, dick.”

Unfazed, the man took my money and waited patiently for me to slam his door before he drove off, leaving me alone on the dark, icy, cobblestone sidewalk without a clue about where I was. Now in an even worse mood than I had been before, I looked up and down the street, trying to get my bearings.

And another cab.

But as luck would have it, I was surrounded by buildings, most of the lights already off, and there was not another vehicle in sight. I blew out a heavy breath, keeping my sleeve pressed against my nose, and I wandered off in search of a cab, a bar, or a hotel with a bar where I could wait for a cab.

“The family business definitely isn’t worth all this bullshit,” I grumbled to myself as I walked the streets of Edinburgh at one a.m., lost, cold, in pain, and more than a little bit tipsy. I stumbled around for what felt like an hour, but it looked like he’d dropped me in the sticks, without a trace of decent civilization in sight.

Following the sound of light traffic coming from somewhere in the distance, I walked along blocks through what appeared to be a residential area before I started seeing a stronger glow of lights emanating from around the corner.

A group of people spilled out of a bar, one girl ending in an orange pool of light under the streetlamp. I blinked hard, wondering if it was the alcohol or a possible head injury speaking, but I could’ve sworn she was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen.

Thick and curvy, she was still shimmying into her coat as they left the establishment they’d been in, and I got a glimpse of a full rack, wide hips, and a good ass before she covered herself in the black parka. Lifting long, layered black hair out of the hood before she flipped it up, she was in the process of turning back to her friends when her gaze landed on mine.

I couldn’t make out the color of her eyes, but her brow furrowed when she saw me, her gaze sweeping across my face before she rushed over. “Oh, my god. Are you okay? You’re covered in blood, sir.”

Snark was my middle name, but for some reason, it just didn’t come to the fore as she gazed up at me. From this close, I could see the smattering of freckles across her nose and rosy cheeks and the real concern in that puckered brow and deep frown.

“I’m fine. It’s worse than it looks.”