6. Finn
SIX
Finn
PRESENT
Aisling Farrell.
Aisling fucking Farrell.
To say I haven’t thought about her in the last two years would be a lie. I can’t count how many times I’ve strolled down the streets of Dublin, wondering if today would be the day I’d run into her again. For months after she left, I secretly scanned tour rosters, both hoping and dreading to see her name among them.
I tried not to think of her. I didn’t deserve to see her sweet smile when I closed my eyes, but late at night, my mind would inevitably wander back to that fateful week in May when everything felt possible. This isn’t over , I promised her.
But it was a promise I hadn’t kept.
And now, here she is. Sitting in the conference room of my family’s business.
As an employee…our employee?
This can’t be a coincidence.
As my gaze settles on her, I strive to absorb every detail before I look away. Unlike the hundreds of tour guests before her, Aisling is burned into my memory like a brand. Nothing can erase her from my thoughts.
Believe me, I’ve tried.
Her hair seems to be longer. Honey copper curls tumble down her back, and I instantly remember what it feels like to have those soft locks wrapped around my fist as I angle her mouth just right?—
Fuck, don’t go there.
Her blue eyes meet mine, and my knees nearly buckle.
A combination of guilt, longing, and lust hit me square in the gut.
God, those eyes.
Focus, Finn.
I drag my gaze away from the pure betrayal etched on her features. “Hi, everyone. Glad you all could come aboard. We’re thrilled to have you,” I say, desperately trying to slip back into that polished work persona I’ve honed over the years. But it’s fucking impossible. I’m too rattled. How is she here? “And we’re eager to see what you come up with over the next few months.”
I usually introduce myself personally to each new hire. I shake their hand and thank them for joining us. I ask them about their lives and passions. But right now, the room feels like its walls are closing in around me, and I need out—n ow.
I quickly come up with the first excuse I can think of, mumbling something about a meeting and running late, and I get the hell out of there.
I can feel Aisling’s stunning blue eyes burning a hole in my back as I flee.
* * *
Back in the safety of my office, I shut the door behind me and take a seat at the desk that once belonged to my father. The scent of worn leather fills the air as I lean back in the chair that has occupied this spot for nearly as long as I’ve been alive.
My da may be a rich old bastard, but he’s a sentimental one. Once he gets attached to something, he has a hard time letting it go. Unless it happens to be his only son. When it came to me, he never seemed to have a problem cutting ties.
I take a deep breath as my eyes sweep around the office. Everything in here is still his, down to the picture frames on the mahogany shelves and the crystal decanter from Waterford.
It’s been two years since I took over the company and a year and a half since I approved a major remodel of the entire building, yet I still can’t bring myself to change a single thing in here.
My role in the company anymore—the “acting” part of my title is just a formality, and the board has been pressuring me to drop it for good, but I just can’t.
Or won’t.
The massive stroke my father had means he’ll never step foot in this office again. He’ll never run another board meeting. A once formidable man now spends his days trying to relearn how to write the alphabet since he no longer can speak it.
My thoughts wander back to Aisling in that conference room today. No matter how many times I’ve tried to push her out of my mind, she remains.
There was a time when I would have happily welcomed thoughts of her.
But that was before, when life seemed simple, and I thought I could have it all. Now, I had a building full of people counting on me not to fuck up—and that building now includes her.
Fishing my phone out of my pocket, I tap on the photos icon and scroll down until I reach a folder near the bottom titled “AF.” My thumb hovers for a second before I tap, and I am prompted to enter a six-digit password.
A password I don’t know. On purpose.
Everything from the week I spent with her is in this folder. Photos, text messages, and the screenshot I took of her phone number right before I deleted it.
As I’ve done countless times before, I close the album and try to move on. I didn’t have time for distractions then, and I certainly don’t now.
* * *
It’s late afternoon, and my knee won’t stop bouncing up and down like a wayward basketball. I asked Stella, my assistant, to arrange individual meetings with our new hires under the guise that I hadn’t had time to meet with them earlier.
Really, though, I just want a reason to meet Aisling and figure out what the hell she’s doing here.
Over the past hour, I’ve chatted with all the other new hires. The Brit and I discussed our favorite rugby and football teams. Our in-house hire inquired about my years as a tour guide, and the last lad talked my ear off about the new Xbox he just bought.
Three down. One to go.
I nervously tap my fingers on the desk, waiting.
My father’s old grandfather clock ticks in the background, only adding to the anxiety brewing in my veins. Finally, my computer pings, and a message from my assistant pops up, alerting me that Aisling has arrived.
Send her back , I type back.
I try to remind myself to remain professional. She is, after all, an employee, and?—
The sound of her heels clicking against the hardwood outside my office makes my eyes snap up. Suddenly, she’s there, and for the second time today, I find myself unable to breathe.
I once tried to convince myself it was just a physical reaction I was having to Aisling and nothing more, but I know better now.
It’s her.
Though I purposely fucked everything up between us, I’ll never deny the pull I have to her.
Even as I push her away.
“Sit.” I direct her to the chair in front of the desk. She glances around hesitantly, likely noticing the office’s stark contrast to the rest of the building.
It looks like a damn mausoleum in here.
Feels like it, too.
I watch as she quietly takes a seat, tucking her black pencil skirt under her. She crosses her legs, and Christ, I’m staring.
Turning my attention back to my computer, I quickly pull up her employee file. Why? I have no fucking clue. I didn’t do this when I met with the other three, but I feel like if I look over at her right now, she’ll see right through me and know I am sitting here fantasizing about my head being buried between those legs.
“So, um—” Solid start, Finn. Banging job. “You’re living in Ireland?”
And now I am stating the obvious.
What is it about this girl that has me reverting back to my awkward, pubescent teen years?
“Yes.” Her voice. Christ, I haven’t heard it in years, and the sound of it sends shivers down my spine. “Just moved here a few days ago.”
“Did you come here for me?” The question slips out before I can stop it, and I regret it the instant it leaves my lips.
I wince as her mouth gapes open, and that same look of betrayal she had in the conference room returns before quickly being replaced by something else entirely.
Anger.
“And who exactly would that be, Mr. Larkin? Or is it Mr. O’Connell these days?”
I let out a deep sigh of regret. “Okay, I deserve that. And it’s both. I just tend to stick to my mother’s last name. Or at least, I have since—” My father excommunicated me from the family. “But I am an O’Connell.”
“Good for you,” she mutters before those big blue eyes go wide, and she looks up at me. “Please don’t fire me.”
I have to suppress the genuine smirk that’s threatening to break free. There’s the Ash I know. “I’m not going to fire you. I get this situation isn’t…ideal. Believe me, we’ve had our fair share of weird in this office.”
“Weirder than this?” she sputters before quickly adding, “Was it all just some big joke to you?” Now that she knows I won’t fire her, she isn’t holding back. “Were you just slumming it as a tour guide for fun that week—like a boss undercover or something—and thought you’d sweeten the deal by hitting on a tourist?”
“What? No. I was an actual tour guide.” I run a hand through my hair, realizing just how badly I fucked this up. “For two years, like I told you. That wasn’t a lie.”
Her eyebrows furrow as she tries to understand it. “Why?”
“It’s a long story, but I was there in earnest. I wasn’t pretending.” I try to emphasize, leveling my gaze with hers. “None of it was fake.”
A heavy silence settles between us before she asks, “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“A stipulation of my employment.” My father didn’t want folks to know he’d banished his only son and heir to work as a tour guide. They found out soon enough, though. I wasn’t ashamed of it and still dropped in to help train new tour guides from time to time. “It’s another long story. But also—” I pause, unsure if revisiting the past is such a good idea. “I liked being just Finn Larkin.” With you.
She adjusts in her seat, uncrossing and recrossing her legs. My throat works as I focus my attention back on my computer, trying to find something to talk about. Talking to Aisling used to be the easiest thing in the world. The difficult part was forcing myself to not speak to her—to distance myself from her.
“How are you adjusting?” I ask as the words on the screen all blur together. My focus is shite right now.
“Well, it’s only been a few days. I’ve barely adjusted to the time change.”
“Right.” I nod. “Where are you staying? Do you have a flat?” That’s something a boss can ask. Not too personal?
Christ, I’m her boss. She reports to Nora, and Nora reports to someone else, but all roads lead to me. So, technically, I’m her boss’s boss’s boss?
There’s no technicality. You’re her boss, arsehole.
“No flat, yet. I’m staying in a hotel until I can find something.”
A hotel? That can’t be cheap. “And what does your mam think? About you moving to Ireland? I’m sure, knowing her, she probably tried to stow away in your luggage.”
Her face blanches, and she practically jumps to her feet. “I—um…I should probably get back to my desk,” she says. “First day and all. It was nice to catch up.”
It takes a whole minute after the sound of her heels fading down the hall for me to register that she’s gone.
What did I say?
I shift my focus from the empty chair back to my computer. Her employee file is still open on my screen, and I click into it, scanning the sections related to her work visa and focusing on what might provide better insight as to why she is here and, even more importantly…why she just bolted from my office as if her ass were on fire.