Chapter 1
Niamh
FOUR YEARS LATER
Sussurri. It means ‘whispers’ in Italian. It sounds sort of romantic, but somehow I don’t think anything being whispered inside the walls of the Sussurri nightclub in Glasgow is of the romantic variety. More like drug deals or discussions about where to hide a body.
Maybe you shouldn’t judge a nightclub necessarily by the state of the ladies’ bathroom, but this whole place reeks and the last stall door has been locked the entire time we’ve been in here.
The rhythmic thuds and occasional moans leave no doubt about what’s happening inside.
The lighting is so dim even the shadows have shadows, and I’m sure there are things moving in them.
Things that are huddled in the darkness, watching us. Waiting.
‘This isn’t one of your family’s clubs?’ I ask my best friend Rose, my sense of unease growing by the minute.
‘Fuck, no,’ she says, attempting to get soap out of an empty dispenser. ‘You know my darling brother Cillian would have dragged me kicking and screaming back home long before now if anywhere we’d been to this evening had been family owned.’
‘Would that have been so bad?’ I look around.
‘It is his engagement dinner tonight, after all.’ The Hunters own several pubs and clubs in the city and we normally go to one of those.
Elliots is a cosy wine bar round the corner from our flat.
And their club in Anderston, The Three Graces, has multiple levels, each with a different vibe.
None of them wholesome or anything, and I’m convinced there’s at least one level that Rose keeps me well away from.
But at least they’re not sleazy like this place.
‘Well, he should have let me bring the plus-one I asked for and then I might have turned up.’
I sigh, although I can’t deny that the fact Cillian had expressly forbidden me from going to the meal had upset me.
He probably didn’t realise I’d heard him, but his words had left no doubt that under no circumstances was I to show my face tonight.
I guess my presence wasn’t exactly welcome, and for years now, he’s kept his distance from me.
But it’s not been possible to stay completely away from one another.
And no matter how hard I try to ignore him, the way my heart races and my breath catches when I’m in the same room as him seems to block everything else from my thoughts and senses.
At well over six foot, he’s impossible not to notice.
And his dark brown hair is a little longer than most men keep theirs, flopping over his eyes when he moves his head; his milky-blue eyes such an unusual shade that they’re almost mesmerising.
The intensity of Cillian’s gaze is hard to avoid and the way he looks at me – it scares me.
Although whether that’s because I’m actually scared of him, or because I’m scared that one day I won’t care about any of the things that scare me – that I will turn my back on every principle I hold dear, in exchange for a few stolen moments with him – I don’t know.
I shake my head. Yeah, not going to happen – from either perspective.
And nope, I’m not going to think about any of those times when he was kind, looked out for me, and I simply …
misunderstood. Not in the short term, but in the long term certainly.
Now, we avoid each other whenever possible, although there is just something about him that…
No, Niamh. Stop. For so many reasons. He’s too old.
He’s your best friend’s brother. He’s possibly …
definitely, not always on the right side of the law.
And I’m going to be a fully qualified lawyer by this time next year.
I’ve seen some terrible things happen to people.
Seen too many people get away with cruelty and selfishness.
I want to make a difference. Fight for some kind of justice.
Maybe one day get justice for my parents’ deaths.
I push away the familiar grief that always threatens to consume me when I think about all the things they’ve missed out on. All the life they had taken from them.
Still, I’m worried that a key part of our non-attendance tonight involved us thumbing our nose at Cillian’s fiancée’s family by coming to their club instead – even if we are accompanied, as always, by Rose’s bodyguard.
Well, not in the bathroom but he’s in the club somewhere, most likely near the door waiting for us to finish up in here.
The Hunters are rich. Crazy rich. They’re very traditional, not to mention paranoid. But—
I catch a glimpse of movement behind me in the mirror, turning when I can’t see what caused it.
But there’s nothing. I look back in the mirror and see a shadowy figure staring at me from the far corner of the room.
I turn because it sort of reminds me of Vittoria, then huff out a breath when I see there’s no one there.
She’s at her engagement dinner, not hanging around here.
I knew I shouldn’t have drunk that bottle of Stox earlier.
It’s been all over the news recently; apparently, it’s causing people to hallucinate more than usual.
It’s a craft beer brewed rather ironically by monks living in a monastery on the edge of the Highlands.
I check the mirror again, and the figure is back, but disappears before I can work out who it actually is.
I shiver, cursing the Stox and wishing we were anywhere but here.
‘Maybe we should go home?’ I mutter when I notice the woman beside me staring at my reflection. I give her a half-smile but she frowns, shaking her head and muttering as she pushes away from the sink and heads for the door.
‘Absolutely not!’ Rose insists. ‘We’ve got the whole night to ourselves, avoiding the most boring dinner party in the world where I’d have to pretend to like that bitch who’s got her claws into my brother.
So, no.’ She turns to face me and gives me a hug, our skin clammy where we touch.
I push her away and smile. Even if I’d rather be anywhere else, I certainly don’t regret the company.
It’s worth the risk of being caught. I suppress thoughts of facing her brother’s wrath.
I frown at her, then pull the thin straps of the sequinned dress I’m wearing back into place and attempt to tug the hem down.
I knew I shouldn’t have let Rose persuade me to borrow it from her.
It’s way more revealing than anything I own – including most of my underwear.
Something that doesn’t seem to concern Rose, ever.
Well, they do say that opposites attract.
The dress is cut much lower at the front than anything in my wardrobe and I notice my necklace has twisted around.
I flip it back so that the stone is nestled in my cleavage, which one of Rose’s push-up bras has significantly enhanced this evening.
It’s warm to my touch, flickering in the light that briefly illuminates the dingy bathroom when another three women squeeze inside.
My mum gave me it years ago, a family heirloom, she’d told me – a plain gold oval with the central deep red heart-shaped stone garnet – a constant reminder of her love for me.
I brush away the pang. Almost four years have passed, and I still think about my parents every single day.
I squeeze the necklace briefly in my fingers and— What was that?
I peer into the corner of the room and there’s a door with four empty screw-holes where a sign presumably used to be.
It’s ajar, the opening deep in shadow, but I’m sure there was movement inside just a second ago.
‘We’re safe, don’t worry,’ Rose assures me.
‘The Rialis own this place and I’m sure the lovely Vittoria isn’t going to let anything happen to us.
My brother would not be happy, and she wouldn’t do anything to jeopardise her chances of him fucking her.
Or marrying her. She’s very keen on that.
It’s the closest she’s going to get to being queen.
Can you imagine what their kids will be like? ’
Queen? I sigh at Rose’s hyperbole. She often exaggerates when she’s been drinking.
My cheeks heat at the image of Cillian that flashes into my mind.
I can certainly picture him as a king. He’s older than us, thirty to our twenty-two, and he’s been the subject of almost every single one of my fantasies since the day I laid eyes on him when Rose and I were first-year law students.
Now we’ve graduated, and in the autumn we’ll start our professional training, but no matter how hard I try, I can’t shake my ridiculous crush.
Is it still a crush when you’re carrying so much guilt that you can barely utter his name?
At least it’s been an easy secret to keep.
After all, what would a man like Cillian ever see in a girl like me? He’s made that very clear.
God, I was so stupid … I really thought…
My cheeks heat even after all this time.
Ever since that day after my parents’ funeral, when he made it clear that he was choosing Vittoria and not me, I’ve avoided him whenever possible.
But he’d been so kind when they died and I’d thought …
I’d thought he cared. That I wasn’t imagining things.
Cillian’s such a mess of contradictions, though.
Like the first time I went to a party at Cernunnos, their house, and he kissed me then left me alone in his room, feeling awkward and confused.
And I know he told other guys to stay away from me, but I don’t even know why – it’s not like he wants me.
All he’s ever seen me as is Rose’s na?ve friend.
I’ve heard Vittoria talk about me behind my back, her vindictive nature coming through.
She’s definitely not a girl’s girl. Now, when I’m around him, I struggle to work out how to actually speak, never mind what to say.
It’s ridiculous. I shiver and consciously stop rubbing my thighs together.