35. Cian
Cian
The elevator doors slide shut, trapping us in a confined space filled with electric tension. Silence hums between us, thick and charged. Leaning casually against the wall, I watch her in the polished reflection—stealing glances I don’t bother to hide.
The soft curve of her profile. The way her dress clings to her body, skimming her hips like a second skin.
Every breath she takes draws the fabric tighter across her chest, teasing the rise and fall of her breasts.
She’s perfectly indecent in all the right ways.
Every subtle shift of her body is a provocation. Intentional or not, it doesn’t matter.
Aoife Quigley.
Patrick’s hidden treasure. The daughter he kept tucked away like a secret too dangerous to share. How he managed to shield her from the world for so long is beyond me—but now she’s here, mine for the taking.
Ruairi’s sister. A line that should give me pause. A name that should stop me.
It doesn’t.
He wants this—wants me with her. Thinks I’d be a safe choice. Trustworthy. Established. Predictable. He doesn’t know how very wrong he is.
Her presence sets something off inside me.
A hunger that’s more than mere lust. It’s possession.
It’s obsession. Her innocence is disarming, but I know better.
She wears it like a costume. There’s something sharper beneath that polished surface.
Something that wants to be seen. Longs to be touched. Craves to be ruined.
She’s playing the part of the good girl. But there’s a darkness in her eyes. A flicker of something feral, something waiting. That thought alone is enough to make me hard. The ache is immediate, sharp, and dangerous. She has no idea what she’s doing to me.
Or maybe she does.
And if she does, God help anyone who tries to touch her but me.
The elevator doors slide open with a soft chime, and I motion for her to step out first. She does, wordless, her movements smooth and unhurried. Each step deliberate, like she knows I’m watching.
And I am.
My gaze trails the sway of her hips, the way the fabric of that dress hugs her curves with every breath she takes. It’s a quiet kind of torment.
The corridor stretches ahead, but all I see is her, this woman I’ve been handed like a carefully wrapped gift. My room is at the end of the hall, and the closer we get, the more tightly the anticipation coils beneath my skin.
Not nervousness. Not hesitation.
Need. Possession.
She doesn’t know what she’s walking into. Not really. But soon, she will.
Once inside, I close the door behind us and loosen my tie, watching her as she takes in the room. Having her here, alone with me, is almost too perfect. She’s supposed to be untouchable. The thought of ruining her is intoxicating.
Ruairi sent me here with a clear purpose—to turn her head and draw her close. He underestimated just how compelling she is and how much I’m willing to bend the rules to take what I want.
“Make yourself comfortable,” I say, my voice low.
She moves slowly, perching on the edge of the couch, her hands smoothing over the hem of her dress.
Going to the bar, I pour two drinks, letting my eyes roam over her body with open intent as I speak.
“You know, Aoife, you’re full of surprises.
I never would’ve imagined someone like you working in a place like this. ”
She smiles softly, her eyes dropping shyly. “It was a whim,” she says. “I have no experience. I really didn’t think they’d hire me.”
I take a step closer, handing her a glass, my fingers brushing hers deliberately. “I doubt they could say no to you,” I reply, letting the words hang in the air.
Her cheeks flush, and I sit beside her, our legs pressed close together. The warmth of her presence is intoxicating, and I can feel myself leaning in, drawn to her like a moth to a flame.
“You’re different than I expected,” I murmur, letting my hand rest on the back of the couch behind her.
“Different how?” she asks, her voice soft, her eyes meeting mine.
“Innocent,” I say, my gaze dropping to her lips. “Untouched.”
Her cheeks deepen in color. It’s enough to drive me insane. My hand lifts slowly, fingers brushing along the curve of her jaw, trailing down to the soft, delicate line of her neck. Her skin is warm beneath my touch, and the way she leans into it sends a pulse of heat straight through me.
“Do you know what you’re doing to me?” I murmur, my voice dropping to a husky whisper as my thumb grazes the corner of her lips, lingering there.
She glances down and quietly gasps when she sees the unmistakable bulge straining against my trousers. Then, she quickly looks away, biting her lip. Her reaction only makes the fire in me burn hotter.
“I’m not sure what you mean,” she whispers, her voice carrying the perfect touch of shyness, her lips parting as if she’s at a loss.
I let my thumb trail back along her jaw, tilting her face just enough so she has to look at me. “I think you know exactly what I mean.”
She stays quiet, and the tension between us crackles like a live wire. I can feel the restraint pulling at me, telling me to tread carefully, to not push too hard, not yet. But the temptation is maddening, and it takes everything I have to pull back, to keep myself in control.
If she’s going to play innocent, I’ll let her, for now. But Aoife Quigley has no idea just how dangerous that game can be.
“How did your father manage to hide you away for so long?” I ask.
“Boarding schools mainly,” she replies. “After I graduated, he let me travel.”
I take the opportunity to press her for more. “Travel? Where to?”
“Paris, Tokyo. Wherever I wanted to go.” Her tone softens as she speaks.
I let her talk, offering a few questions here and there to keep her going, all the while studying her every movement, every word.
When there’s a lull in the conversation, I strike. “Why not work for Ruairi? Surely, he could use someone as capable as you.”
Her expression hardens, her guard slipping for the briefest moment. “Because he won’t let me,” she says flatly. “He thinks I’m too weak, too inexperienced. He doesn’t see what I’m capable of.”
I lean forward, my interest piqued. “And what are you capable of?”
“More than he’ll ever give me credit for,” she says, her voice soft but laced with steel. “I’m not some fragile thing to be tucked away, no matter how much he wants to believe that.”
I lean in closer, drawn in by the fire simmering beneath her carefully composed exterior. “He’s the fool for not seeing it,” I murmur, my voice low, testing the waters.
She gives a quiet, bitter laugh. “Ruairi doesn’t do foolish. He does calculated.” She glances at her phone, frowning slightly. “It’s late. I should be going.”
I stand as she does, not letting the moment slip away. “Do you have work tomorrow?” I ask, my voice casual.
She glances at me, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “No. I’m off,” she replies.
“I’d like to spend the day together,” I say, my words laced with purpose.
She hesitates, her lips pressing together. “What about the wedding?”
“The wedding’s the day after tomorrow,” I say smoothly. “I came early to handle some business for Ruairi. Maybe you’d like to accompany me?”
She studies me for a long moment. “If I do, you have to promise Ruairi won’t find out.”
I smile, placing a hand over my chest. “You have my word. He’ll never know.”
“Alright,” she says softly. “Tomorrow, then. I’ll meet you in the lobby.”
As she turns to leave, I step in just enough to shift the air between us. My hand grazes her lower back as I lean in, brushing a kiss against her cheek. Not rushed. Not innocent. A promise wrapped in restraint.
Her breath catches, barely, and then she’s gone, the door clicking shut behind her.
The taste of her lingers on my lips, subtle but undeniable.
She’s not what I expected.
But one thing’s for sure, she will be mine.