Chapter Eleven
C arrigan spent the next week keeping busy and avoiding all the things she didn’t want to think about.
The list was getting kind of ridiculous.
She’d had a hell of a time keeping a straight face during Mass on Sunday while the priest went on about original sin.
Her mind kept going back to the feeling of James’s hands on her skin and his voice in her ear.
If that was a sin, she had no interest in being a saint.
She knew she should get the rest of the dates out of the way, but Monday slipped by while she wasn’t paying attention, and she spent nearly all of Tuesday with Callie, hiding out from Aileen and her last-second wedding plans.
And then she blinked and it was Friday and she’d managed to get through six whole days without picking up the phone and dialing James.
He had a lot of nerve saying he’d be there for her.
She’d have to be a fool to trust him. It was more than their shared history, though that should be more than reason enough.
She didn’t trust anyone beyond family—and she didn’t even trust her family half the time.
People had a nasty tendency to put themselves first when she needed them most.
The only person she could trust to take care of her was her .
Which meant it was time to stop dragging her heels and get through these dates.
Her fate wasn’t going to magically change in the next few weeks, and the longer she waited for the initial dates, the less time she’d have to actually make a decision.
Holding off wasn’t going to hurt anyone but her, so she wasn’t going to wait any longer.
She moved on to the next two names on her list. Kellen O’Neill.
Dmitri Romanov. An hour of Internet searching later, she had little to no information on either of them.
Kellen O’Neill was a pretty common name, and the only Dmitri Romanov she could get a bead on was some Russian prince who may or may not be fictional. Probably not her guy.
Resigning herself to not knowing a damn thing about these men before she met them, she dialed the number next to Kellen’s name.
Ten minutes later she had a date for dinner that evening.
He hadn’t even hesitated. It was hard to tell on the phone, but he sounded young and eager.
Neither one was a turn-on, but it might mean he was easy to manipulate.
She filed that away in the back of her mind and dialed the next number.
“Dmitri Romanov.”
She blinked. She’d expected someone Russian from the name, but he sounded…
She shook her head. “This is Carrigan O’Malley.
I’ve been given to understand you’re interested in linking your assets to my father’s.
” Such a careful way of prettying up what this really was—her father selling her off to further his business.
“You understand correctly.”
“I’d like to meet with you, this afternoon if possible.” Knocking off two of the names today would keep her busy—and keep her mind off James.
Dmitri chuckled. “I’ll clear my schedule. Shall I meet you at three?”
“That would be perfect.” This Dmitri didn’t sound like the type of man to paw at her uninvited, so there was absolutely no reason she should so much as talk to James today. Good.
“I look forward to meeting you, Carrigan.” His accent gave her name an exotic roll, and she couldn’t stop a shiver. Damn . “Enjoy your day.” And then he was gone, leaving her feeling vaguely unsettled.
Dmitri Romanov wasn’t a man to be underestimated.
She frowned. They’d exchanged a handful of words.
He’d canceled his plans to meet her. There was absolutely nothing in what he’d said that should be making her skin twitch like she was surrounded by danger she couldn’t see.
So why is my stomach in knots and my heart beating too hard?
She set her phone down next to her on her bed.
Growing up in the house of a powerful and ruthless man, it made sense that some part of her instinctively recognized it in this stranger, even over the phone. That had to be it.
Chauncey had been a pig. She got the feeling that Kellen was a puppy. Dmitri… well, Dmitri was something else altogether.
A knock on her door was all the warning she got before her mother swept into the room, her dark hair perfectly styled, her makeup flawless, and her pantsuit looking like she was ready for brunch.
Aileen took in the space with a critical eye, and finally settled on Carrigan.
“You had a date last night with one of your father’s candidates. ”
It was a fight to keep her face perfectly bland.
She could still feel him pawing at her, and the anger over his asshole commentary hadn’t dimmed with time.
Her interlude with James had made the memory bearable, but she wouldn’t hesitate to knock that slimy fuck on his ass again if she ever was forced into his presence. “Yes. Chauncy Chauncer.”
Her mother made a face. “New money.” As if that summed up everything worth knowing about him. Unfortunately, she wasn’t wrong in this particular case. She moved to the dresser and started straightening the pictures there. “How did it go?”
“He’s no longer in the running.”
Aileen looked over sharply. “What did he do?”
She should have known that her mother would pick up on the underlying anger that Carrigan still couldn’t shake.
Every time she so much as thought Chauncey’s name, a slow-burning rage rolled through her.
He’d insulted her, and then he’d touched her without permission— assaulted her.
She picked at a nonexistent thread on her comforter.
“He had problems taking no for an answer.”
It wasn’t something she’d ever admit aloud to her father but, as rarely as she and Aileen saw eye to eye, she knew her mother would understand this .
Sure enough, her perfectly lipsticked mouth tightened.
“You took care of it.” There wasn’t any doubt on her face that Carrigan was more than capable of putting the pig in his place.
“I got my point across.” She just wished she’d hit him again. Or kicked him while he was down. Her shoulders tightened at the memory of him shoving her against the wall. “He’s a fool, so I doubt it had any lasting effect, but he won’t be touching me again.”
“Good.” Aileen hesitated and then went back to straightening pictures. “You’ll let me know if you need to take further actions.”
Even if she didn’t, her mother would find out anyway. She might not be as flashy about it, but Aileen had as many—if not more—people reporting to her as Seamus did. “Of course.”
“Good. Now that that’s taken care of, show me this list of your father’s.”
She handed it over because there really was no other option.
Besides, even though her mother was as willing to sell her off as her father was, at least Aileen would take more factors into account than just his potential alley value.
I should have asked her before going out with Chauncey .
The realization had her straightening her spine.
She’d made a mistake. Maybe this would help her to keep from repeating it.
I don’t want any of them, though. There’s no way they can make me feel as good as James does .
She shut that thought down real fast. But it was no use.
It wormed its way into the back of her brain, its presence small but nagging all the same.
It didn’t matter how good the sex was with James, or how he never seemed to react the way she expected during their conversations.
Even if she’d been willing to consider… anything … with him, it was a moot point.
He wasn’t on the list.
End of story.
Aileen picked up the paper, a tiny line appearing between her brows as she looked it over.
“Take both the Marrow boy and Atcherberg off the list. I can’t believe your father would stoop so low.
” Her green eyes flashed. “Marrow just buried his third wife. And Atcherberg has a gambling problem that is already beggaring his family.”
She didn’t ask how her mother knew these things.
There was no point when she was, in all reality, most likely right.
Carrigan fought back a sigh. “Then my potential list is down from six to three.” After today it would shrink even further.
She looked at her mother, all the things she couldn’t say pressed against the inside of her lips.
Please don’t make me do this. Please don’t make me marry some stranger to further the family’s interests.
Please, please, please . It was a little girl’s cry into the dark, begging the monster not to be real.
If Aileen saw what she was thinking—and the way she pressed her lips together said she sure as hell did—she ignored it.
She set the list back on Carrigan’s bed.
“That will make things simpler. Now, this wasn’t why I came looking for you.
” She straightened and smoothed her hands over her perfectly pressed green dress.
“You haven’t been in to get the final fitting for your bridesmaid’s dress yet. ”
The wedding. Of course. She should have known it wasn’t concern for her well-being that had her mother searching her out. These days everything seemed to boil down to Teague and Callie’s wedding. “I’m surprised you need me in there at all. Don’t you know our measurements by heart?”
“Carrigan, don’t be cheeky. The wedding is a little over a week away. Make it a priority. I won’t have you in an ill-fitting dress.”
Since the wedding was more about what her mother wanted than what Callie wanted, she’d take it as a personal insult if Carrigan didn’t do exactly as instructed. She glanced at the clock beside her bed. “It’ll have to be this afternoon, then.” She’d take care of it after her date with Dmitri.