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“Not you, little wild thing.” His gaze slides to Eilish. “Your pretty friend.”

Goosebumps rise across my skin. Something small and unpleasant twists beneath my ribs.

As Fionn angles away, Keira rises onto her toes and wraps her arms around his neck. I stand there hating myself for wanting to taunt him into looking at me again.

Instead, I notice the lock of dark hair falling across his brow and the flash of his gold watch beneath his cuff.

Entirely against my will, obviously.

While they hug, Saint appears beside Keira, making his presence felt without pulling her away.

Fionn releases his sister and glances past her.

“Tallon,” he says.

Saint’s eyes narrow. “Harrington.”

My mouth curves. “Almost civilized.”

Fionn’s rich amber gaze snares mine. “Coming from you, that almost sounds sentimental.”

“Over you?” I roll my eyes. “I’d rather choke.”

His smile comes quick and cold. “Yeah. You would.”

The words slip beneath the edge of my control. Heat flares low in my stomach, a sudden, searing heat that steals half a breath before I lift my glass and hide my reaction behind it.

“Off ya fuck, Harrington.”

Fionn turns away, smirking as though he’s already won. Around the room, his men push off from the walls and fall in behind him.

I lift my champagne but don’t drink.

People move out of his path as he crosses the room. Women watch him leave. Men watch the women. I follow the breadth of his shoulders beneath his suit, remembering the ink over his skin and the muscle tightening beneath my hands.

Information I could have happily lived without.

Eilish leans closer. “Are you⁠—”

“Don’t.”

“You did well not to stab him.”

“I’m not going to prison because of a Harrington.”

Keira and Saint have moved away, swallowed by men who want their attention and women desperate for details about a relationship nobody is brave enough to question directly.

“He unsettles you,” Eilish says.

I click my tongue at her. “He irritates me.”

She looks over my shoulder. “The arsehole is loitering.”

I last almost three seconds before turning towards the main doors.

One of Fionn’s men speaks close to his shoulder, but he isn’t listening. Fionn stands with one hand in his pocket and that perfect public smile in place, staring across the room at me.

The distance should make it easier to hold his gaze.