Chapter Four
Cillian
“What do you reckon?” Finn asked and turned to me.
“I’ll be straight.” I smiled. “If she’s happy for a threesome thing, I’m up for it.”
“She said she was.” Finn shook his protein shake vigorously.
“Then it’s set.”
“You Irish boys are so bad.” Trixie laughed and popped some bread down in the toaster.
“You can talk,” Finn said. “With the kinky shenanigans you get up to.”
She shrugged, unoffended. “I get paid to be filthy.”
“Our payment will be a hot, willing pussy.” I laughed.
“Don’t bet on it, posh girls have rules about first dates.” She turned and folded her arms, squashing her breasts upward in the tiny purple top she wore.
“If she has, we’re respectful guys.” Finn sipped his drink. “And besides, she’s got something about her, you know, the X factor or whatever. She’s smart, sassy, I can’t imagine anyone would be able to pull the wool over her eyes or persuade her to do something she doesn’t want to.”
“What does she do for work?” Trixie asked.
“She’s a lawyer.”
“Fancy.” She reached for her toast and began to butter. “Where are you taking her?”
“The Ivy.” I was eager to eat in the restaurant I’d strolled past many times but never actually been inside. “Jeez, I hope it’s good.”
“It will be.” Finn swiped his tongue over his bottom lip. He’d been before. Once.
I trusted his judgement, on the choice of eatery and the woman he was keen for me to meet.
It had been a while since either of us had caught any kind of feels for anyone, but maybe that was about to change.
Actually, it already had changed for Finn.
I could tell by the way his eyes sparkled when he talked about this Rebecca woman.
“Hey, guys, what’s up?” Mitch wandered into the kitchen wearing sweats and nothing else. He yawned and scratched his head as he made his way to the kettle.
“Busy night?” I asked.
Mitch was a cop, and this was his night shift week.
“Yeah, only two more to go, though.” He poured coffee. “Could have done with a few more hours kip, but I’ve got the kids this afternoon, and they want to go to that new carting track.”
“Ah yes, expensive, noisy…not my idea of fun.”
“Whatever, I just wanna hang out with them.”
Mitch had got divorced a year ago, his wife having cheated on him. It had torn him up emotionally and financially, which was why he crashed at Rose Cottage a lot of the time.
Finn bashed me on the shoulder. “Come on, man, we’ve gotta get to the gym.”
“Yeah, sure. See you, Mitch.” I rested my hand on Trixie’s shoulder. “Jamie will be here soon to watch over the place, and we’ll be back later.”
“Sure thing, honey.” She smiled and bit into her toast. “Just got a regular booked in for five in the Pleasure Room. A surgeon who likes pain way too much.”
“Go easy on him.”
“I won’t.” She laughed. “That way I’ll get a tip.”
One of the rules of Galahad was that there was always one of us at Rose Cottage.
We’d brought the sex workers off the streets.
These girls were vulnerable, expendable too in the eyes of many, and we wanted them safe while they figured life out and moved on, or didn’t as the case might be.
For some, this was as good as it got, and we didn’t judge.
We headed out into the warm day. Oxford was busy, with a throng of pedestrians on the main road, cars honking, and buses belching out fumes. But the overflowing hanging baskets were glorious, the sunshine bright, and there was a sense of summer lightness amongst the people milling about.
After taking a left, we headed down Burton Alley that led to Fight Fit, the mixed martial art school and gym we owned and ran. It was our baby, our passion, and being there didn’t feel like work.
“We should get the decorators in,” Finn said, pointing at the peeling white paintwork around the black sign.
“I’ll get on it.” I paused. “She’s a brunette, you said.”
“Yeah, long hair, soft as fuck.”
I nodded.
“And dark eyes, sharp, you know, don’t miss a thing.” Finn chuckled. “I could get lost in them.”
I kept quiet and imagined Rebecca Saunders.
I could Google her, but I wanted it to be a surprise when we met.
I wouldn’t be a surprise for her. I looked the same as Finn apart from the green shamrock tattooed on the back of my right hand.
But we weren’t exactly the same. He was more entrepreneurial, ideas took off and he ran with them, always willing to take risks.
Fight Fit was a prime example. He was also never short of conversation and could blabber for hours.
This suited me, it meant I could sit back, listen, observe.
Not that I was quiet, I just wasn’t always gobby like him.
Finn unlocked the door, and we went in.
“You’re late.”
I turned. Phil stood behind me, sports bag in hand and a Fight Fit peaked cap pulled low.
“Fuck off.” I checked my watch. “Two minutes, that’s all.”
Phil huffed and wandered in with us. “I got a schedule.”
“And you also use this place for free.” I clipped back the door to let what little breeze there was into the large square space.
Phil said nothing and sauntered his bulk over to the weight section.
Within ten minutes, another eight guys had turned up, and the clang of the weights rang through the air. I headed into the office and sifted through some paperwork.
Finn put music on, and Bruce Springsteen’s ‘Born to Run’ rang out from giant black speakers.
After I’d paid the bill on the new corner cushions for the cage, I dived into my own workout. An hour of weights and cardio and then an hour of sparring with Finn and then I’d be set to instruct in a bunch of private lessons.
* * * *
Friday evening finally came. I opted for a white, high-collared shirt and smart linen jacket and splashed on my favorite woody scent.
“You ready?” Finn stood in the doorframe to my room in the eaves of Rose Cottage.
“Yeah.” I added the gold necklace my ma had bought me then checked my hair. “Good to go.”
Finn was more casual than me in a black t-shirt and black jeans. He had his leather thrown over his arm. He checked his gold watch. “Come on then, it will take twenty minutes to get there.”
“And we don’t want to keep a lady waiting.”
We said goodbye to Phil who had taken over from Jamie—he was shoveling in pasta, his usual meal after a day in the gym—and we headed toward the city center.
The Ivy was a beautiful, tall old building with a stone-framed entrance, a small turret next to windows set in the eaves, and a racing-green front door. As I stepped in, the rich aroma of herbs, spice, and sizzling meat made my stomach rumble.
I scanned the busy restaurant, the bursts of colors leaping out at me. There was nothing understated about The Ivy, it was a feast for the senses; tropical, decadent, plush, and gilded.
“Is she here yet?” I asked Finn.
“Can’t see her.” He smiled at the ma?tre d’. “Table for three under the name Sullivan.”
“Certainly, sir.” He checked his large leather-bound book. “This way, please.”
We followed him to an empty table at the rear of the restaurant that was beside a spiky plant and a painting of the Bodleian library. I slid onto the curved red-leather bench, and Finn did the same.
“Should she sit in between us?” I asked.
“Might be a bit much.” He shrugged.
“Yeah, you sit next to her, you know her.”
“Sure?”
“Yeah.” I glanced at the door, eager for Rebecca to arrive. I was curious to know if the image I had of her in my mind was right. “You positive she’s coming?”
“Chill out, man. Stressing isn’t cool.” Finn picked up the wine list. “She’ll be here.”
I hoped to hell he was right. “What shall we get? Champagne?”
“Sounds like a plan.” Finn ordered then set the wine menu to one side.
I glanced at the entrance again.
A woman with glossy hair the color of chestnuts and set in big wave-like curls was speaking the ma?tre d’. Her lips were ruby red and her eyes dark. The dress hugging her curves was also bright red with thin shoulder straps, a low-cut neckline, and a thick black belt around her waist.
“That her?” I asked and nudged Finn.
He snapped his attention upward. “Yeah, that’s her.” He chuckled. “Fucking dynamite, right. Everyone, male and female in the restaurant, is watching her. Everyone wants to be her or fuck her.”
He was right. Heads turned as she walked toward us, her generous hips rolling in the most alluring sway I’d ever seen. It wasn’t forced it was simply there, her, and I liked it a lot.
Finn stood and stepped toward her. “Rebecca. Hey, you look amazing.”
“Thank you.” She offered her perfect cheek for him to kiss and then she set her attention on me. “You must be Cillian.”
“Yeah, that’s me.” I also stood. I took her hand in mine, and her attention went to my tattoo. I then kissed her knuckles softly, the peachy, powdery scent of her skin lingering on my lips. “I’m glad you could make it, Rebecca.”
“Wouldn’t have missed it.” She smiled, and it went to her eyes—eyes that were a rich brown and winged with kohl that made them almost feline.
A strange sense of calm came over me. She was gorgeous, yes, but I wasn’t flustered, I just knew that I wanted to know more about this woman. She had layers, beautiful layers on the surface, for sure, but there were more.
“We took the liberty of ordering champagne,” Finn said, sitting again and gesturing for Rebecca to slide to his side on the curved bench as we’d agreed.
“Is that what you would normally drink?” Her right eyebrow lifted slightly, and she directed the question at me.
“I’m a Guinness man,” I said with a shrug, “But when in Rome and all that.”
She laughed softly and set her small silver-gray handbag at her side.
“I’ll second what Finn said.” I let my gaze rest on her face. “You…wow that dress is amazing on you.”
“What were you were expecting?” she asked.
“Finn said you were beautiful, and you are, but…”
“But?”
“But there’s something else.” I bit on my bottom lip and fought to find the right word.
“Go on…”
“Yeah, Cillian, go on.” Finn folded his arms, his eyes flashing with curiosity.
“I suppose its confidence.” I shrugged. “I would imagine you hold the courtroom under your spell when you get started.”
“I don’t wear this to court.” She brushed her fingertips over the neckline of her dress.
My attention briefly followed her action, and a tug of desire caught in my belly. Her breasts were softly rounded and her delicate skin pale.
“No, for court she wears a wig and black robes.” Finn tapped the top of his head. “Funny thing.”
“Part of the job.” She smiled up at a waiter who had delivered the champagne. “Thank you.”
“Am I what you expected?” I watched the bubbles pop and fizz in the glasses as the drinks were poured.
“I expected you to look like Finn, that’s what he told me.” She reached for her drink. “Though you are smarter dressed.”
“Hey.” Finn frowned.
I poked him. “I beat you every time, bro.”
“Eejit,” he grumbled and picked up his drink. “To first dates.”
“To threesome dates,” she said, holding my eye contact. “A first for me, but I’m guessing not a first for you guys.”
Finn glanced at me.
I shrugged. Might at well be honest from the start. “We had a girlfriend back at home, in Ireland, about five years ago.”
“We?”
“Yeah, we,” Finn said. “We both liked her, she liked both of us, didn’t seem any point in fighting, so we all dived into bed.”
She hovered her glass by her lips. “All of you…in bed?”
“Yeah.” I shrugged and took a big slug of cold bubbles. “Threesome fucking is fun.”
“So not…not one at a time…you all, both of you…and her?” Her eyes widened. “But not you both…obviously.”
I laughed. “No, I have zero interest in becoming acquainted with my brother’s dick.”
“Ditto.” Finn took her hand in his. “And remember, that was then and her and this is now, with you. This is on your terms, doll, okay? Whatever floats your boat.”
She pulled in a breath and then drank.
“Have you had a chance to peruse the menu?” a waiter asked.
“Not yet, give us a minute.” I smiled at him.
He stepped away.
“What do you fancy?” Finn passed her a menu. “Other than us.”
She laughed, the tension slipping from her face. “I’m actually starving, I’ve been in the office all day and didn’t grab lunch.”
“Working on a case?” I asked and slipped on my reading glasses.
“Yes, always a case.” She tapped her bottom lip with her index finger as she scanned the menu. “I’ll have the cheese soufflé, and then the salmon.”
“Same here.” Finn snapped his menu shut.
I studied mine a little longer then settled on mussels and lasagna.
“So what have you guys been up to today?” she asked. “Work?”
“Yeah, we’ve been at the gym.” I took my glasses off and slipped them into my jacket pocket.
“You work at a gym?”
“It’s our gym,” Finn said. “And it’s a mixed martial arts academy too.”
“Ah, I see. So that’s what you do all day. You fight.”
I laughed. “Yes, that’s mainly what we do, but not with the intention of ever starting a fight, it’s to defend, or it’s to earn points in the cage.”
“I don’t understand.”
“We both fight professionally.” I leaned forward, elbows on the table. “Big fights come up, we win them, mostly, and make a shitload of money in the process.”
“Impressive. And do you do it as a tag team or individually?”
“Bit of both,” Finn said.
“So when’s the next one?”
I answered quickly. The date was constantly on my mind when I was training. “Fifth of July, and Fight Fit, that’s our place, is hosting the event.”
“Should be a good little earner.” Finn shrugged.
“So you charge spectators?”
“Of course, and we’ll run a bar. Get some merch in, too.”
“Our mate, Phil, runs the bookies side of things,” Finn added.
“He takes bets. I might just get myself a ticket and have a flutter.”
Finn laughed. “Not sure if you’d like it. Bit different to a courtroom. The blood and violence is right there in front of you.”
“You came to watch me fight, with words, why can’t I watch you?” She tipped her head in a challenging way.
“Of course you can.” Finn touched her cheek with the back of his finger, an intimate gesture that told me he’d touched her before. “You can do whatever you want, pretty lady,” he said quietly. “Anything at all.”
I stiffened slightly, my spine straightening. This woman was special, I knew that already. And I wanted whatever Finn had with her.
And I wasn’t going to wait around to get level with him. I wanted it now. All of it. All of her.