FOURTEEN #2
As she closed the distance, her scent hit me, immediately working its usual magic.
I had to force my brain to override it and willed my dick to calm down.
Remember the play here, Kier. She had come to my room that night to manipulate me.
Scared of the fucking thunder? My arse! It had all been tactical—a strategic move to position the rest of her family inside my house.
Amelie Thorn played a great game of chess, it appeared.
“It’s school,” I said, my voice hardening. “The rules have always been different there.”
“I don’t see why they have to be.”
“There’s a hierarchy, one even I’m forced to accept.” I didn’t even understand my own bullshit I was selling.
“In other words, you’re still ashamed to be seen talking to me?” When I didn’t reply, her eyes searched my face. “Did you stay away this week because of me, or your father? I heard you two shouting again.”
“Yeah, well. That’s what happens when he gives a stranger the pool house instead of his own son.”
The confusion melted instantly from her face, replaced by total shock. “What do you mean?”
“Your brother. And the fact that he's currently holding the keys to my space.”
“Your pool house? But you live here,” she said, gesturing vaguely toward my bedroom down the hall. “I don’t understand.”
I pushed off the doorframe and stalked into her room.
Every ounce of bitterness I’d swallowed since Cameron dropped the news came boiling to the surface.
Amelie backed up slowly, retreating step by step until the backs of her legs hit the edge of her mattress. A hot flush crept straight up her neck.
“You’re angry?” she stuttered, raising a hand defensively.
I stopped, my chest inches from her palm and the proximity forced her to crane her neck to maintain eye contact. The pulse at the base of her throat was fluttering like a trapped bird. My presence was wrecking her. I could feel it, because it was doing the same thing to me.
Our chemistry was still off the fucking charts. I wanted to kiss her so badly I ached. But not like this. Not in anger.
“Damn right I’m angry. That place should have been mine the second Lincoln packed his bags.”
She shifted uncomfortably, her eyes darting away. “I’m sorry. I didn't know you wanted it. You never said anything.”
“I didn’t think I had to,” I snapped, leaning in closer. “What I want to know is how you convinced my father to give your brother first fucking dibs.”
Amelie’s face fell. That guilty look told me everything. She had manufactured the whole thing.
You’re so fucking stupid, Kieran.
“You swear way too much, you know,” Amelie suddenly said, scowling at me with a look of contempt.
“Yeah, well, you don’t swear enough,” I volleyed back, watching her cute little nose wrinkle. I leaned down and got in her face. “Say the word fuck, I double dare you.”
She blanched, “And sink you to your level, I don’t think so.” Amelie was haughty now, and my body seemed to appreciate the sudden flare of fight in her.
I bent my knees to lower myself so we were the same height and pointedly said, “What were you saying about sinking to my level, runt?”
Again, Amelie surprised me by placing the flat of her palm in the centre of my chest and pushing me back. I stumbled slightly, my bended knee catching me off balance as she sailed past and headed for the doorway.
I smirked and stood up straight, rolling my shoulders as I turned towards her. It appeared my fiery little stray had a backbone. I wondered if she’d be quite so brave if I were to go over there, close the door and lock us in.
And then what? Carry on from where we left off in bed the other night?
Oh yes, my libido liked the thought of that.
My gaze roamed over her tight little body, the way her jeans clung to her slim, toned thighs.
The fact that I’d allowed a woman who looked like her to sleep next to me without touching her was a miracle.
I should have been given a fucking medal for my restraint.
Uncomfortable with my appraisal, Amelie wrapped her arms around herself and lifted her chin. “Look, I’m sorry your nose is out of joint,” she stated, her voice firm. “But Adam is here now, and it’s not like you’re suffering—your bedroom is huge. It’s twice the size of mine and Jessa’s combined.”
“That is completely beside the point,” I countered, strolling back into her space, deliberately cutting off the distance between us.
“Please, Kieran. Do not ruin this for me.” The irritation in her voice cracked, giving way to a desperate, sharp edge.
Amelie stared up at me, her blue eyes wide and hurt.
“You have your family. Let me have mine. Adam is a good man. He’s had a brutal life—we all have—but if you give him a chance, you’ll see he’s a decent person. ”
That was the first time she had referred to her life as brutal, and it made me swallow. I still didn’t know the truth about her past with her parents. Every time I had mentioned it, she shut me down.
A sharp spike of guilt hit me, triggered entirely by the raw desperation bleeding from the woman before me. Amelie looked stunning as she fought for something she felt she really needed, and so beautiful she almost made me back down. Almost.
But backing down when I felt like she’d lied to me wasn’t that easy.
How did she lie? She lied by omission, my mind rationalised.
Shrugging my shoulders, I replied, “The jury is out, princess.”
I then leaned down, my face inches from hers again. Amelie’s breath hitched, and her lips parted. It was a cruel, calculated move—I knew exactly what she expected. But instead of kissing her, I drew my nose slowly across her cheek, leaning in until my mouth brushed the cuff of her ear.
“Let's go meet this saint of yours,” I whispered.
Amelie flinched as I grabbed the handle and yanked the door completely open, forcing my way past her. My shoulder bounced into hers as I pushed through the frame.
“Are you going to behave and at least try to be civilised?” she demanded, her voice shaking.
“I’ll be exactly who I am, Amelie.”
“That’s what I’m worried about,” she whispered to my back.
I didn't stop walking. I just threw a bitter laugh over my shoulder. “We both know 'civilised', and I don’t belong in the same sentence.”
AMELIE
As expected, dinner was a slow-motion car crash.
All the Rook family members appeared at the double doors into the grand Blue Room with rigid, on-time precision, almost like a military exercise. When Angelo the chef cooked, you didn’t dare be late.
Unfortunately, Adam was, but only slightly. He wore clean jeans, but his hair was still wet from the shower, and his shirt was untucked. I wore a simple navy dress, which I borrowed from Jessa. Everyone else was wearing casual outfits, but somehow looked much smarter.
When the official introductions came, it was Cameron who took the lead.
Lincoln shook Adam’s hand with a smile that looked spray-painted on.
Maisy gave him a big, cheery wave, and Jessa grinned shyly and nodded.
Then came Kieran. I watched my brother’s jaw flex, a sharp line tightening in his cheek as the other boy gripped his palm, deliberately squeezing with an aggressive, silent dominance.
Neither man broke eye contact. Neither let go first. After a nervous laugh and an “Ok, everyone, sit down and tuck in” from Vanessa, the boys broke away, and we all found our seats.
Kieran and Adam were at opposite ends of the dining room, thank goodness, and I was sitting next to my brother.
As we shuffled around the table in suffocating silence, the only sound was the plastic rattle of Maisy being strapped into her high chair.
Then Angelo appeared briefly to explain what was in the steaming dishes spread out in front of us.
It was roast beef with various vegetables, potatoes and sauces.
Adam caught my eye, raising a slow, mocking eyebrow at the sheer absurdity of having a servant telling us what each dish was when you could easily see. He didn't say anything out loud, but the silence he left in its place was heavy.
And then we started to serve ourselves. Adam was trying hard, but he was completely out of his depth.
How wouldn't he be? We spent our lives eating out of greasy takeaway boxes on the floor.
Our kitchen table back home wasn't for eating; it was where our mother hoarded all her junk. But the Rooks didn’t know that.
When Adam trailed his thumb through his gravy and slowly licked it off, the room went dead.
Vanessa froze with her fork hovering inches from her mouth.
Cameron’s jaw tightened, his eyes darting to his plate in a show of extreme, painful diplomacy.
Kieran grinned to himself. But nobody spoke.
The clatter of silver against porcelain sounded like gunfire.
A moment later, Adam started speaking with his mouth full, half-chewed food visible.
I violently shoved my elbow into his ribs, but he just grinned, swallowed loudly, and kept going.
At that point, I gave up and tried to focus on the flow of the conversation.
Various topics were discussed, school, Maisy’s new nursery, a new show on Netflix, Adam’s job, but thankfully, no one raised the subject of our parents or asked how Adam was finding the pool house.
As soon as I entered the room, I was counting down the minutes until Kieran raised that, but he didn’t.
During an ice cream dessert, Kieran’s "best behaviour" morphed into a brooding stillness.
He didn't speak; he just observed. Jessa was practically melting into her chair, hanging on every single word Adam uttered.
Her face was borderline dreamy. When she leaned forward, batting her eyelashes, and asked Adam if he worked out, a toxic current ripped through the room.
My aunt and Cameron exchanged a look of pure, horrified panic.