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Orna shrugs, still not meeting my eye. “These other families loved Lorcan’s father. But Lorcan… not so much.” As I open my mouth to probe further, she links my arm and tugs me towards the vanity. “Enough with the family politics, already. Let’s get you ready.”
I like having Orna back, even if I still have a million questions, so I keep my mouth closed. After another glass of champagne and thirty minutes later, my hair and makeup are done, and Orna steps back, satisfied. Like an artist admiring their finished painting.
“You look amazing, Poppy. I wish I could stay to see Lorcan’s reaction. But I don’t really want to see the prick right now.” She holds up her hand before I can ask why. “Again, family politics.” With another tweak of my hair and an extra spritz of perfume, she leaves the museum with a cheery wave and some parting advice. “You’ll probably be put on the wives and girlfriends table. Drink enough to put up with their vapid gossiping, just don’t drink enough that you become the center of their gossip.”
Listening to Orna galloping down the stairs, reality kicks in. I have no idea what I’m getting myself into, or how to act. I’m a prisoner. A debt owed. How do I introduce myself? Will Lorcan evenletme introduce myself?
“Damn.”
Lorcan’s deep voice from the doorway brings me out of my thoughts with a jolt. I didn’t even hear him come in. “Jesus,” I mutter, clutching my hand to my chest. “You scared me.”
“Nothing new.”
When I whip round to face him, my sarcastic retort is snatched from my lungs.
Lorcan Quinn looks devilishly handsome. The slim cut of his tuxedo clings to every bulge on his body like second skin. It’s made from luxurious-looking silk that has my fingers twitching to touch it. The midnight blue color is interrupted only by a floral bow tie, made up of vibrant colors that pop against his crisp white shirt.
My eyes drag up to his angular face, in time to see his lips twitch with amusement. “I know,” he drawls. “I scrub up well too.”
Before I can respond, he pulls me into his strong arms and spins me around quickly, until my exposed back is against his chest. “Look at us,” he murmurs in my ear as we both stare at our reflection in the mirrors. “We look perfect together.”
The lust escapes my body in one ragged sigh. His fingers burn against my bare shoulder as he sweeps my hair from it, before planting a soft, sensual kiss on my collar.
I swallow the desire in my throat and study our reflection. Wedolook good together. Despite being almost six foot in heels, I fit neatly between his shoulder blades. His olive skin and jet black hair are a stark contrast against my pale complexion and copper locks. Ice and fire. Night and day.
Neither can exist with the other.
Lorcan’s voice vibrates against my throat. “What’s wrong, China Doll?” Only then do I realize my eyes are shut.
When I open them, I’m staring directly at his eyes in the mirror. They burn amber with all the secrets he won’t let pass through his lips.
Loosened by the five glasses of champagne, the question slips from my tongue before I can stop it. “Who was my father, Lorcan?”
His face instantly darkens and his fingers slip from my waist. “What has Orna said to you?”
“Nothing. That’s the problem.”
When his eyes flash with anger and he widens the gap between us, I feel desperation clawing at my throat. “Please, tell me. I know he did more than just hand over the parcel. I know he was more than a lackey—”
“Enough,” he growls, turning away from me. I see his back muscles clench through the tight fabric of his suit, his hands curling into fists.
Another burning question comes to mind. One I’ve wanted to know the answer to since I was nine years old.
Despite my trembling lips, I say softly, “Then at least tell me why you were in his study that night. All those years ago. The night I saw him slit that man’s throat.”
Every muscle and bone in Lorcan’s body stiffens. It feels like an eternity until he says, “You saw me.”
Not a question. And I don’t offer an answer.
When he finally turns to face me, there’s an expression I can’t read contorting his face. “We don’t have time for this,” he says coolly, pinning me with a glare. “The car’s outside.”
He reaches for my arm but I take a step backward to avoid his grip. A freshly brewed cocktail of defiance takes hold of me. “I’m not going.”
Lorcan’s nostrils flare. “Don’t start.”
“No, Lorcan,” I croak, folding my arms across my chest. “All you’ve ever done is take from me. You took my freedom. My life. Myvirginity.Give me something back.”
There are small things about Lorcan I’ve noticed since spending more time with him. One of them is the vein in his temple that throbs when he’s angry. Right now it’s pulsating a million beats a minute. His jaw clenches, completing his death stare. “I’ll ask you once, Miss Murphy. Pull yourself together and let’s go.” He takes a step towards me. Recently, my body opens up to him when he comes close, but now, it retracts, cowering from his looming silhouette. “If I have to ask twice, then we’ll still attend the dinner. But instead of being on my arm, you’ll be on your back. Providing evening entertainment for every gentleman in the restaurant. Is that understood?”
