Chapter 10
Chloe
Chapter Ten
“I was with the Bolshoi Ballet for over fifteen years,” Tatyana says with pride. “I had the privilege of being prima ballerina for five years.”
“Oh, you lucky girl. I loved dancing with the New York City Ballet, but I was only their prima for two years,” Melody drones on. “It was the best experience of my life, though.”
I think she’s going to get the job. I just have that feeling. The organizer spoke to her more and seemed to love her. Dare I say it? I would choose her, too. She seems perfect. She’s just turned thirty-five but looks the same age as me. She’s also had two kids but her body looks more in shape than mine ever did.
Like me, she went to Juilliard but unlike me, the New York City Ballet hired her fresh out of college. She then worked for them for ten years before she started teaching in Australia while her husband—one of the richest men in America—opened a new branch of his company there.
Of the group of twenty ladies I’ve been placed with, there are five here who worked for the New York City Ballet. The rest danced for various companies all over the world. To say that I’m by far the least qualified is an understatement. And they know it.
They clocked me the moment I walked in and sized me up like sharks checking out their next meal when it was time to introduce myself and my experience.
For the first hour we had a brief presentation in the function room where the organizer assessed our behavior within the group. Then they placed us in mini groups of five and we came out here to mingle.
My group has been mingling with each other and I’ve been listening. Every time I tried to speak, someone cut me off, as if what I had to say was irrelevant and insignificant.
“Do any of you know Margot Bordeaux?” Celine asks.
“She was my teacher at Juilliard,” I say, but no one looks at me.
“Oh my gosh, we went shopping last week in London. It was fabulous,” Melody cuts in and once again it’s like I haven’t spoken.
“I’ll bet that was fun. She was my favorite teacher,” I try again but it’s like I’m a ghost.
“We’re going on a girls' trip in a few weeks to the Caribbean.”
“Tell her I said hi," Celine bubbles. “We worked together for years but I lost track of her. She’s a busy little thing.”
“I know. You should join us for coffee sometime. She’s one of my best friends. I’m sure she’d love to see you.” Melody nods with enthusiasm.
Suddenly, the group starts talking about costumes and I get squeezed out of the conversation again.
The organizer comes over and joins the hearty talk. It’s clear when she starts talking about what they’re looking for in the position, she’s referring to everyone except me. I don’t even know why they bothered to invite me.
It was nice to get a taste of my old life in the dance world but not at the expense of me feeling like nothing.
Deciding that I’ve had enough of being invisible, I back away from the group. I don’t even bother to excuse myself. To them I was never there anyway.
I’ll go to the bar and grab a quick drink before I head home. Roxanne is staying over tonight. Adrian, her new boyfriend, has been away on business, so she’s been staying with me every other night to keep me company. I’ve been grateful because it’s been a little scary being by myself.
I take the stairs to the first floor and head to the bar.
I stand behind a row of college girls placing orders while I decide what drink I’m going to order.
I need something to take the edge off. Maybe something that will knock me out the moment I get home, so I don’t think of my problems. Or that my mother still hasn’t woken up. In a semi-drunken state I might be able to pretend I can be positive.
“You know, drowning your sorrows at the bottom of a bottle is never a good idea,” comes the alluring Irish accent of the man I really wish I could forget.
I look around and find Cillian standing behind me. Our eyes lock and I’m so stunned to see him I can’t speak.
Like me, he’s dressed in full black tonight. But in his button-down shirt, black slacks and Tom Ford-clad feet, he makes the color look like no one has ever worn it.
His hair is wild with a just-got-out-of-bed sexy look that makes my mouth water.
I’ve never met a man who could ooze such sex appeal in such high doses.
Those piercing blue eyes burrow into minelike he’s trying to dig for my secrets. The ripple of energy coursing between us is so potent I want him to see inside me.
What am I thinking?
This is not a coincidence. There’s no way he would be here at the same time as me.
“Mr. O’Ridian, if you aren’t careful I might think you’re following me,” I say with a confidence I don’t feel.
“I am following you.” He smiles and the dimples he reveals encourage me to stare at the perfection of his face.
“To keep tabs on me?”
“Not the way you think.” He grins wider and there’s no mistaking the sexual connotation laced through his words.
I swallow hard and try to tamp down my anxiety.“I was just getting a drink before heading home.”
“There’s been a change of plans, though, now that I’m here.”
I simply stare at him, trying to figure him out. “You won’t allow me to say no to you, will you?”
Another smile dances on his lips. “You learn fast, lass.” He places his hand on the small of my back and a chill ripples through me, curling down my spine. “You’re scared of me.”
“Shouldn’t I be?”
“Yes, but I won’t hurt you.”
“I’m sure if you were going to hurt me, you wouldn’t tell me.”
“Yes, I would.” I’m surprised by how casual he sounds. As if we could be talking about the weather. “That’s the difference between me and most men.”
“And I’m supposed to believe you?”
“You don’t have to believe me, lass. But I’m taking you anyway.”
My eyes widen. “What? Where are you taking me?”
“To drink.”
My breath stills in my chest but I try to inhale past the constriction. “Just to drink?”
“Just to drink.” The next second sees him leading me away from the bar to the VIP room.
It looks gorgeous with its sofa area, private bar and glossy black flooring, which all match the soft jazz music playing in the background.
We’re secluded and away from everyone else, but the glass wall allows us to see what’s happening below us.
With a frown, I spot the group of plastics I was with minutes ago, who still haven’t noticed that I’m gone. Or maybe they have and they just don’t care.
I don’t care either but it seems that I have bigger fish to fry.
Cillian ushers me to the sofa and we sit next to each other. As soon as we do, a bartender enters the room to take our order.
I’ve never been to this club before but I can tell from the look in the guy's eyes that he knows Cillian is important.
“What’s your drink, lass?” Cillian looks me over.
“A cosmopolitan.”
He looks back to the bartender. “She’ll have a cosmopolitan and I’ll take a bottle of your finest wine. Also, bring us two shot glasses.”
“Sure thing.” The bartender nods, then he heads to the bar and starts mixing my cocktail.
I look back at Cillian and try not to show how wary I am of him. My goal needs to be to get out of here as quickly as possible. And not to entertain his…fascination with me. I know most women would kill to be in my shoes, but I’m not most women.
“Are you going to allow me to leave when we’re done?” I keep my tone even.
“Yes. I was thinking we could play a drinking game.”
“I’m not so sure it’s a good idea for me to be drunk around you.”
He grins back at me. “Scared of what you might do?”
“It’s more like the other way around.”
He chuckles deep and low. “I told you I won’t hurt you.”
“Of course, you did.”
The bartender returns with our drinks. He hands me my cocktail first, then opens the wine and pours Cillian a glass.
“Can I help you with anything else, Mr. O’Ridian?” The bartender does know him.
“Not at the moment. I’ll call you when I need anything.”
“No problem.” The bartender dips his head again for a curt bow then, instead of going behind the bar, he walks out the door, leaving us to ourselves.
This is the first time I’ve been alone with Cillian. And he’s already looking at me, giving me his undivided attention.
To break the tension, I lift my glass to my lips and take a sip of my drink. It tastes amazing. The blend of flavors bursts in my mouth and amplifies as it hits the back of my throat. It’s so good I take a big gulp, and another.
“Good?” Cillian keeps his eyes on me, focusing on my lips.
“Yeah. He nailed it.” I can already feel the gentle buzz I need to relax.
“Perfect. Ready to play?”
“I’m sure I’m not, but yeah. What are we playing?”
“Truth and drink.”
I raise my brows and narrow my eyes. “What kind of game is that?”
“Have you seen Game of Thrones?”
“Yes.”
His eyes flicker with interest. “It’s the drinking game from the show. Basically, I make an assumption about you. If I’m right, you drink. If I’m wrong, I drink. We can take three turns each, and we have to elaborate on every correct assumption.”
As he looks at me I find myself contemplating this game.“Not sure I like this game. I could either end up drunk or confirming some truth I don’t want to.”
He smiles again. “You won’t get drunk. We won’t even finish the bottle of wine, and I’ll only ask the burning truths I think I already know.”
“Burning truths?”
“Come on, just play the game, lass. You might actually have fun.Fun is never a bad thing.” He sits forward and his knees brush mine.
“Fine.” I take a measured breath and gear myself up for what could be a trap.“Let’s play. Who goes first? You or me?”
“You choose.”
“Me first. It feels safer that way.”
“Fire away.” He does that sexy boss thing again where he sits back with his arms spread out over the back of the seat.
I think of my first assumption about him and decide to proceed with caution. “You ran away from home once, never to return.”
He straightens, reaches for the bottle and pours the wine into his shot glass. He drinks, showing that my assumption was right.
“I was twelve and I didn’t want to succeed my father or learn anything about our family business,” he explains. “So I ran away.”
“What did you want to do instead?”
“I wanted to be a doctor, or something medical.”
I can’t see him being a doctor, but that’s not because I don’t think he could be one. It’s because he's so… suited to who he already is.
“That’s a good career.”
“But not as good as an investment banker in my father’s eyes. I love him to death, but my athair was strict as shit.”
“Athair?”
“It’s the Gaelic word for father.”
“It sounds good.”
“Next one, lass.”
I think again. I was right last time, and my assumption was a tame one. “You were bullied in school.” That could be why he’s so abrasive and scary now.
I feel like I’m on a roll when he grabs the wine bottle again but this time he pours the drink into my shot glass.
“Really, lass? You think I would let someone bully me?” He gives me an incredulous stare and hands me the glass.
“So you were always like this? In boss mode?”
“Yes.”
I drink the wine and that tastes delicious, too. It’s so flavorful I could drink the whole bottle.
“Last one, lass. Try to be more imaginative this time.” He nods.
“Okay.” This time I think outside the box as I stare into those deep blue eyes. I see a softer side. Something he doesn’t show people too often because he probably never allows anyone to get close to him in proximity or in trust. “You were in love once.”
From the way his eyes darken I know I’m right. He confirms it by taking a drink.
“Many years ago.”
I remember the woman in his office and I wonder if it was her. She and Cillian seemed close. I know I walked in on some kind of argument.
The woman was model-gorgeous with a sassy attitude to match. She also didn’t like the look of me.
“Was it by any chance the woman in your office?”
He laughs without humor. “Not in a million years. I would never be with her. But I was with her sister. Her twin sister.”
“Oh. Where is she now?”
Something that looks like guilt fills his eyes. “She died. She was sick.”
I instantly regret the question. It was too imaginative and I feel like I crossed a line. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have asked you that.”
He smiles and seems more like himself. “It’s okay. That’s what we sign up for when we play this game. It’s my turn now. Ready?”
“Yeah.” Respectfully, I go with the subject change. But curiosity has my mind gathering all the things he said and all he didn’t.
Like what his relationship is with the woman who was at his office if he’d never be with her in a million years. He was with her twin sister, yet I felt her possession over him the instant I looked at her. Her claws were out the moment she saw me.
“You like assholes.” Cillian’s voice tugs me from my thoughts.
I smirk and glare at him. “You can definitely have a drink for that.”
He grabs the wine but pours it in my glass, then he hands it to me. “Liar.”
I shake my head at him. “I don’t like assholes. It’s not true, so you drink.”
“No. You drink because it is true.”
“Why do you think that’s true?” After what he read about Nate, there’s no way he’d believe that.
“Because you like me.”
My toes curl from the seduction rippling through the deep, sexy baritone of his voice and my insides heat, pulsing warmth all through my body. That’s not a good sign. I wish I could blame it on the cocktail, but that would be as ridiculous as me believing the sun is green.
“I don’t like you. Sorry if I gave you the wrong idea.” Any moment now my nose will grow longer than a broomstick and probably sprout leaves and a bird’s nest.
Cillian inclines his head to the side. “I never figured you for a liar. Don’t start being one now.” He holds the glass to my lips and the look in his eyes forbids me to continue with the lie. So I take the glass and drink, much to his satisfaction.
“You’re an asshole?” I keep up my hardened stare.
“I know.” He grins and raises one dark brow."But don't tell me you don't feel that energy between us."
“What energy?” I know what he's talking about but it’s easier to play dumb.
"Insane chemistry." He picks up the ends of my ponytail and allows the strands to fall over his fingers before releasing me. “Ready for my next assumption?”
“Go ahead.” I set my glass back on the table.
“You think I’m just like Nathan.”
I pour myself the drink this time and savor the wine as I look at him, telling him without words that I absolutely believe he’s like Nate.
“I’m not like him.”
“I don’t know that. So far, the only difference between you and him is that I knew what you were when I first saw you. And I don’t care that not all monsters have horns. They’re still monsters.”
To my surprise, he smiles. I don’t think anyone else would. Everything I said was insulting.
“I’m not going to lie and tell you I’m not a monster. I am. But it takes a different level of fucked up to do what your ex did to you.” Coolly and casually, he rests his arms over the chair again. “The only time I touch my woman is to give her pleasure. The kind of pleasure that makes her know I’ve claimed her for myself and she’s mine.”
The look he gives me now is so indecent I don’t know where to put my face.
My breath stalls as my mind entertains the wild sinful images that come to me when I think of what he’d do. What he’d do to me.
Desire pulls at my insides, erasing the bravado I displayed when I last spoke.
“Last one, lass. Ready?” He runs his tongue along the seam of his bottom lip as if he’s tasting me.
Now it’s me who stares at his lips.
“Lass?” he prods with a wicked grin.
“I’m ready.”
“You want freedom.”
“I am free. I’m here, aren’t I?”
“Not that kind. You want freedom from problems of the past and the present.”
There’s no point arguing with that. He’s right. I also don’t have to elaborate, so I pour myself some more wine and drink.
“I should get going. It’s late.” The reminder of how stuck I am crawls back into me like a treatment-resistant virus that won’t go away.
“One more game.”
“I’m all tapped out and nearly at my limit.” I won’t even dare to finish the cocktail.
“One more quick game.”
“Does it involve drinking?”
“No. This one is called choices.”
I smile at the name. “Did you make that up just now?”
“Yes.”
He grabs his wallet from his pants and takes out two foreign-looking silver coins. He holds them up to the light.
They both look rare and unusual. One has a queen sitting on a throne. The other has a dragon.
“Where are those from?”
“They’re European secret society money from the twelfth century.”
I stare at them in fascination, but I wonder what this next game of his could entail.
He places the coins down on the table and looks back at me. “In this game I shuffle the coins around and you pick a hand. If you pick the queen, we continue as we are. You pay me the debt and will never see me again.”
He’s up to something. “And if I pick the dragon?”
“If you pick the dragon I release your mother from the debt. You pay me nothing and you get to keep your home and your restaurant.”
My mouth drops and my stomach flips before it plummets. I stare back at Cillian, my mind slow to comprehend what he’s saying, but yet I understand every single word perfectly.
“You’d release me from the debt if I pick a coin?” I want this so badly I don’t want to look away from him just in case he disappears from my sight. Maybe I’m dreaming. I must be.
“Aye. Of course, you have to pick the right coin, lass.”
“That’s it?”
“Not exactly. I’d want something in return.”
No. I’m not dreaming. Of course he’d something else in return “What do you want?”
A dark, decadent smile carves into his face. “I want twenty minutes with you to do whatever I want.”
My skin pebbles with goosebumps and my pulse charges like a general on a battlefield. Under any other circumstances I would get up and walk away after hearing something so vague, but I’m still rooted to the seat next to him because I’m considering what I’d lose if I left.
It hasn’t escaped me that if I leave or choose the queen I’ll still be in the same boat. But the possibility of picking the dragon has me considering the possibility of saving what I set out to save.
Then all I’d need to worry about is the money for Mom’s surgery. That’s it.
But what would he want me to do for twenty minutes?
“I’m not a slut.” That’s my dignity talking.
“I don’t deal with sluts.”
“Then what would you do with me for twenty minutes?” I keep my eyes on his.
He leans closer, as if he’s going to tell me a secret. “That’s for me to know and you to find out, lass. But of course, you don’t have to play if you don’t want to.”
He moves away and stares back at me. And I think.
If I pick the dragon and get the loan, all that money I was going to give Cillian would go into the restaurant. I never even had a proper plan on how I was going to pay the loan back. This would give me a way.
Above everything else it would release me from the guilt of the past.
I know Mom doesn’t hate me now, but I’m still to blame for leaving.
This would absolve me. I’d be the daughter who fixed her husband’s mess and saved the family.
“I’ll play.”
As expected the fearless devil smiles, reminding me of the evil villain in the movies when he’s winning.
“Okay, here goes.”
Cillian does some fast shuffle thing with the coins on the table. At first I keep my focus on them, looking only at the dragon, but he’s so fast I lose track of it within seconds.
The next thing I know he’s holding out his hands to me with tight fists, and I have no idea where the dragon coin went. Is it in his right hand or the left?
How interesting it is that the dragon seems to benefit him and the queen would lose if I picked her.
“Pick a hand, lass.” He bites on his bottom lip and watches me with the eagerness of a lion who’s just backed its prey into a corner.
I study his hands, my gaze switching from one to the next before I pray with everything inside me and choose his right hand. He opens it to show me what I picked, and I see the dragon.
My eyes widen and my lungs seize. I did it. I picked the right coin.
I actually did it. Or did he let me?
It doesn’t matter. I played the game and picked the coin I wanted.
“Your mother is free of the debt she owes me. I’ll have my lawyers write up something that releases her from the loan.”
“Oh my God. Thank you.” I finally breathe and my lungs burn as if I’ve been standing in a room full of thick, black smoke.
Cillian places the coins back in his wallet, then shoves it in his pocket.
“What now?” I swallow hard. “What do you want from me?”
We stare at each other and I tighten my grip on the edge of the seat.He notices. His gaze flicks down to my tight knuckles then up to my eyes, then my lips.
“Come here,” he says, crooking his finger to beckon me closer to him, and temptation lures me in.
He moves closer and I know he’s going to kiss me. Instead of going into lockdown mode, I stare at his lips, wondering what he tastes like.
So, like an obedient servant, I move toward him and he closes the space between us.
Cillian’s lips crush to mine and a blast of fire rushes over me. It’s so intense and hot I pull back briefly, and he smiles.
“Come back here. I’m not finished with you yet.” He speaks in a low voice that whispers to every part of me that is desperate for attention.The attention he wants to give me.
I move back in to kiss him, and everything leaves my mind.Thoughts, worries, concerns. The past, the present, the future.Everything.
The strong masculine taste of him mingled with the sweet wine sends me spinning into the arms of wild ecstasy.Then all I can think of as he deepens the kiss and his tongue sweeps over mine is how badly I want him to touch me everywhere.
I moan into his mouth when hunger turns to greed, and he cups my face.
My pussy clenches with the need for him to be inside me. That’s when I know I’m in trouble, but instead of running for my life I indulge in the taste of him like an addict getting a fix.
I’m shocked when he pulls away. I wasn’t ready to stop kissing him yet.
My lips are still burning from the passion and desire he gave me.
As if we did nothing, Cillian glances down at the Rolex on his wrist. “Eighteen and a half minutes.” The smile returns to his face.
“Eighteen and a half minutes?” I rasp, my voice hoarse.
“You owe me eighteen and a half minutes. I’ll collect it when I think of something else I want to do with you.”
I stare back at him, checking I heard him right. “What?”
“You heard me.”
“When will that be?”
“Whenever I want.” He runs a thick finger over my bottom lip, then inches away. “Good night, lass.”
I blink several times, processing his order, feeling like I’ve been dismissed. Because I have.
I stand. My head is still spinning from the kiss, and the situation.
I still owe him. Just not in the way I did before.
Eighteen and a half minutes. “Good night. Thank you for what you did for my mom.”
“See you soon.” Like the other night, those words sound like a promise.
I turn and walk away, my legs shaking as I flee from the emotion and confusion.
Before I leave the room I chance glancing over my shoulder and find he’s watching me. I leave and it feels like those stormy blue eyes follow me all the way home.
Who knows what he’ll want from me when he comes to collect?
The worst thing is: now that I’ve tasted him, I want more.
And I can’t get Cillian O’Ridian out of my head.