Chapter 8 Caroline
CAROLINE
Islip into the water. Finn’s already in the shallow end with his wine on the edge. I gesture at the drink. “You know you shouldn’t have glass near a pool, right? You have to drain the whole thing if any gets in the water.”
“That rule only applies to people who can’t afford to hire a dozen cleaners to come solve their problems.”
“Must be nice.”
“Whoever said money can’t buy happiness is full of shit. Money buys time, and time buys happiness.”
“Deep words. Didn’t know you had it in you.” I sink into the water. It’s always so comfortably warm. I try not to show it, but swimming relaxes me. For some reason, I don’t want him to know how much I love this place.
He’s watching carefully. If my dig bothers him, he doesn’t react at all. His smirk remains implacable and beyond frustrating. “What were you and my sister-in-law talking about?”
“Oh, nothing much. The usual stuff. Nail salons, favorite stores, poison recipes.”
“That girl’s too obsessed with my brother to ever bother learning how to respectfully murder someone.”
“There’s a respectful way to do it?”
“There are a million ways.” He floats into the water. I glance at his muscular arms. Moonlight shines off the white, puckered scars. He’s beautiful in a terrifying kind of way. “Viciously. Brutally. Carefully.”
“What’s your favorite?”
“Hilariously.”
I snort and look away. It’s annoying that I find him funny sometimes. “Casey was just here to be nice to me, that’s all. I think she feels bad about this whole situation.”
“Makes sense. She went through it.”
“That’s what she said. It’s really true that your brothers all have arranged marriages?”
“To some degree.”
“And they’re all happy?”
He seems to consider that. “I’m not sure Cormac has the emotional depth to experience actual joy… but they all seem like they’re actually in love.” His eyes find mine and hold me tightly. “Don’t for a second think we’re going to end up like that.”
A jolt runs down my spine. “Wouldn’t dream of it.” I paddle away, putting more distance between us. I feel tense and sick.
“Good. Not with you. Not with a Flanagan.”
There’s a strange edge in the way he says my last name. I can’t help but notice it. There’s a raw, sharp feeling behind it. “You have a problem with my family?”
He doesn’t answer. Instead, he drifts back to his wine and drinks. When he looks back, it’s like that slight moment of emotional intensity is totally gone. He’s back to good old Finn.
“We should probably talk about the wedding.”
I want to push him about my family, but I decide now isn’t the time. “Do you have a preference on flowers?”
“Not particularly, but I do have a preference on how my wife behaves.”
I snort with shock at his brazenness.
“What makes you think you have a say in my behavior?”
“I’m betting Casey just gave you a speech about learning how to live together. Am I right?”
I glare at him. “You’re close.”
“Good, then you understand. You play by the rules, you act like a good little wife—”
“—And what exactly are you doing in this situation?”
He ignores me. “You get rewarded. That’s how this will work. I won’t ask too much of you. In fact, ideally, we’ll act as though the other hardly exists. But there are ground rules we both have to follow.”
I’m pissed off, but I’m also curious. I can’t help myself. I’m just a curious girl. “What kind of rules?”
“We’ll live here.” He gestures around him. “From the outside, we’ll look as though we’re actually making this work.”
“I don’t hate the idea of having easy access to this room.”
“Good. It can be all yours.” His eyes roam my body again. “I’m not interested.”
It sounds like he’s trying to convince himself more than he’s trying to make a point. “What other rules?”
“Your family stays far away from here. You don’t interfere in my job. You keep to yourself.”
“What’s with you and my family?”
“I want clear boundaries. We’re getting married, but we’re not falling in love. I don’t want you to think we’re doing Thanksgiving with Daddy.”
I roll my eyes. “I don’t call him that. Mostly, I call him eldest asshole.”
He smiles slightly and I think it’s the sincerest smirk I’ve gotten out of him so far. He likes that I’m insulting my father. Very interesting.
“Do you feel that way about your brothers, too?”
I can’t hide the sudden flash of anger. “Most days.”
“I take it there’s some friction.”
“My brothers are selfish pricks. My father’s an egomaniacal bastard. Does any of that surprise you?”
“Not in the slightest.” He seems very engaged now. He draws closer. “You’re by far the youngest in your family. That must’ve been hard.”
“It definitely wasn’t easy. By the time I came along, my parents were done with being parents.”
“They threw you to the wolves. And in this case, the wolves are your brothers.”
My eyes narrow and my jaw tightens. “I’m not sure what you mean by that.”
He’s close now. He reaches out lightly. “How did you get those scars, darling?”
“Fuck off.” I jerk back, splashing him. I know people look at them, but nobody’s ever rude enough to directly ask how they happened. It’s pretty obvious where my scars came from. I can’t reach around and do them myself.
“Touchy subject?”
“How about you talk about yours first.”
He laughs and there’s definitely an edge now. “You’re deflecting. Tell me how you got them.”
I storm out of the pool. It’s definitely not graceful. I’ve never angrily swam before, but there’s a first time for everything. I yank myself up the ladder and wrap a towel around myself, seething.
“How about you get something straight. You want to make rules? Well, I’ve got rules too. And the first one is: mind your own fucking business.”
I gather my things, head pounding. I know I’m overreacting. My scars are ugly and people are curious about them. Especially a guy with his own. But I don’t owe him my trauma and I’m not interested in giving him a piece of myself like that, not when he’s clearly unwilling to do the same.
I make sure the towel is around my midsection and most of the harsh white slashes are hidden before going for the door.
Finn gets out of the pool. “You don’t have to hide them, Caroline.”
I hesitate. My heart’s slamming in my throat. I feel sick, angry, and overwhelmed. “Yes, I do. Otherwise, assholes like you think you have the right to ask about them.”
He pulls a towel around his lower half. The top remains uncovered, his own scars out in the open. “They’re beautiful, you know.”
“Go to hell. I’m not doing this.” I get out of there. He’s about to try to make me feel like I’m beautiful, even though I don’t feel that way at all, and it’s so cliché I could barf. Screw that straight to hell.
Finn follows. I hear him behind me. I don’t look back until I reach the front door. I have to pause to pull on my clothes over my wet bathing suit. It’s not comfortable, but I’ll survive. He watches from the stairs.
“I mean it. You’re beautiful, Caroline. Maybe that’s why I despise you so much.”
“Must be pretty fucked up in that twisted head of yours.”
“You have no idea.”
“Let’s get something straight.” I face him before leaving. “You’re right. We’re getting married. But just because I’m going to be your wife doesn’t mean you own me. I don’t owe you a thing, not my past, not my future, nothing. I’ll play the game and that will be enough. Do you understand?”
His eyes crinkle with amusement. “Loud and clear.”
“Good.” I yank open the door. “And I want tulips.”
“What’s that?”
“Tulips. Flowers. For the wedding. I want good tulips too.”
I get the hell out of there before he can reply with something infuriating and sarcastic.