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My dress is dark green, fitted through the waist, modest from the front and bare down the back, with a slit that makes Eilish’s mother glance at my thigh every time she passes.
That alone makes it worth wearing.
“You know,” Eilish says quietly, “you need to speak to Saint.”
My brows pop high. “About what?”
“Fionn.”
“Are ya for real?” I make a face at her. “Me bringing up his name is the quickest way to start a fight.”
She angles her body a little more toward the window, keeping our conversation hushed. “Saint’s in love with Keira Harrington.”
“I know.”
“And Keira is in love with him.”
“I know that, too.”
“Then he can’t stand there with a straight face and act as if Harrington blood is unforgivable when he has a Harrington in his bed.”
I sip my champagne, knowing that’s the truth. “You’re making this sound much simpler than it is.”
“I’m really not.” Her voice stays low. “I’m saying he doesn’t get to freak out about Fionn for being exactly what Keira is.”
“That’s different.”
“Why?”
“Because Keira didn’t tie me up in a barn, and she’s not an heir to a mafia empire.”
“No,” Eilish says. “But Saint kidnapped her, didn’t he?”
“I can neither confirm nor deny that allegation, Eilish Kinnane,” I say, acting all prim and proper. “Anyway, that’s not the same.”
“Why?” She studies me. “Because it was Ciarán Tallon the Saint?”
“Because Keira wasn’t an actual threat to my family.” I cock my head at her. “And Fionn’s marrying you for power.”
Eilish sighs. “If Saint gets to love Keira, then you get to feel whatever you feel for Fionn without acting as if it makes you a traitor.”
My throat tightens. “I don’t feel anything for him.”
“You’re such a bad liar, Sera.”
“I mean it,” I protest. “Sex is sex.”
Her expression softens, but she doesn’t back off. “I know you. If he meant nothing, you’d be cracking jokes about how bad he was in bed and telling me all the things he did that gave you the ick. Instead, every time his name comes up, you look lost.”
I glance over my shoulder across the ballroom, past the tables, the sea of people, and the auction display on the stage.
“He’ll be here soon.” A small smile plays on her mouth, but it fades before it reaches her eyes. “Talk to Saint. That’s all I’m saying. If he gets to build a life with a Harrington, then he can’t be a hypocrite when it comes to what you want.”
Before I can answer, a man near the bar steps aside, and the group of women near the exit all stop talking.
My pulse skips, and an awareness prickles over my scalp a second before Fionn Vaughn Harrington walks in through the double doors, wearing a dark suit and black tie, with a cut beneath his eye and a face that makes every sensible thought I have disappear.
Christ, I’m into him.
