Chapter 22
Niamh
TWO YEARS AGO
‘We’re halfway through uni, and I never seem to meet anyone,’ I moan to Rose, stirring my Porn Star Martini.
‘You meet plenty of guys,’ she says.
‘No one that sticks around for longer than five minutes.’
‘What about Martin? You met him at the Cathouse, and then he turned up for a date at Elliots.’
‘Yeah. He did,’ I say. ‘And then he bailed.’
‘So, what did you say to him?’
I shrug. ‘Nothing bad. We were just chatting and then he went to the bathroom and never came back.’
‘What exactly were you talking about beforehand?’
‘Uni … and stuff.’
‘Did you tell him what you were studying?’
‘Erm … maybe.’
Rose sighs. ‘You have to hold back on that information for a while. No one wants to date a lawyer. Especially guys you meet in a club.’
‘But—’
‘Actually, there’s a guy in one of my classes—’
‘Philip?’
‘Yes. He’s not completely boring.’
‘We’ve already met,’ I say. ‘We had coffee, and then he ghosted me. Have you not noticed he doesn’t sit near me in lectures, that if I happen to sit anywhere in the vicinity of him, he actually gets up and moves.
’ I bite my lip. He’s not the only guy who seems to go actively out of their way to avoid me, either. ‘What am I doing wrong?’
Rose sighs and looks me up and down. ‘We could try a makeover?’
‘I want them to like me and want to spend time with me, Rose. Not whatever they think I’m going to be like because of what I’m wearing.’
‘You dress like a nun, Niamh. I’m not sure that your clothes really give guys an accurate picture of who you are right now.’
I sigh. ‘Maybe once I’m qualified and earning decent money I’ll invest in a new wardrobe.’
‘Did you listen to what I said earlier at all? No one wants to date a lawyer. Everyone thinks that somehow when they’re with you, they’re going to do something that you think is evidence of them committing a crime, or you’re going to see something you shouldn’t and have them locked up forever.’
‘That … can’t possibly be true, can it?’
Rose sighs. ‘Okay, why don’t we try something? I’ve got a spare outfit in my bag. Nothing too revealing,’ she assures me before I start to object. ‘It’ll suit you. Come on. You’ve got nothing to lose, right?’
She winks at me and hands over a bag from a designer store nearby.
‘Rose, I can’t accept—’
‘Yes, you can. Now come on, drink up and I’ll get us another round while you change. The bar isn’t open yet so no one will see you.’
The cocktail goes down easily, its sweetness barely making it feel like I’m drinking alcohol, then I down the accompanying shot of prosecco.
‘Right, fine,’ I sigh, standing up and heading downstairs.
It’s weird walking through the closed bar. I don’t usually come to this part of The Three Graces as there’s no dancefloor, and the clientele are usually older. Late twenties at least.
The bathrooms are in the far back corner, a long wooden screen separating the short corridor they are located on from the rest of the club. I push open the door to the ladies’, wincing at the loud squeak the door makes as it swings slowly shut.
Standing in front of the large mirror, I put the bag Rose gave me on the counter and remove my cardigan and blouse.
I wrinkle my nose. Rose is right about the energy I’m giving off – uptight, prim.
I start by fixing my make-up, putting on a little more blusher, making my eyes a little smokier.
I’m leaning forward to apply a deep red lipstick when I hear footsteps approach.
And suddenly the door crashes open. I grab for my clothes, holding them in a ball in front of me so that whoever it is sees as little as possible.
‘We’re closed.’
The voice is entirely devoid of emotion, sending shivers down my spine.
‘Sorry,’ I squeak. ‘Rose Hunter … said I could come in and—’
For the first time in ages, I set eyes on Cillian Hunter as he steps out of the shadow of the doorway.
He’s wearing a sharp, tailored suit and his dark hair has been perfectly styled.
I catch sight of his jawline with just a hint of stubble and I’m reminded of his beauty.
How is it possible for one man to look this good?
He stops short of entering the bathroom when he sees me, his eyes running the length of my body, stopping and frowning when they settle on my chest and he sees I’m only wearing my bra.
‘Niamh?’ he says, his voice catching in his throat. He looks directly into my eyes and I’m lost in their icy-blue glare for a moment, unsure what to do, whether to move. He has the power to make me speechless and I feel insignificant and childish under his gaze. He clears his throat.
‘I don’t think you should be in here,’ I say, finally finding my voice.