4. Rian
Four
Rian
Tan that arse of yours. Tan that arse?!
Jesus, what was I thinking?
I wasn’t thinking, that’s the problem. I struggle to rein it in when it comes to Miss Ice Queen on a good day, and that mixed with the anger that’s been clouding my head today… Fuck! I’ve never gone this far before.
Thankfully what is gone is my hard-on. We exit the six-storey, glass-fronted KSS building that sits next to the traditional Georgian-style houses that south side Dublin is so famed for. How Dad ever got planning permission back in the day is beyond me.
“Hey, watch it!” Leo ducks away from my umbrella that I opened without checking where my friends were standing. “You almost poked my eye out.”
“Sorry.” I grimace and angle the umbrella to shield Alexandra from the spring shower.
She pats Leo’s arm. “You’d rock an eyepatch, Leo.”
He shrugs. “Certo. That goes without saying.”
I chuckle under my breath. Leo loves to add Italian phrases to his vocabulary.
He may be half native, but he’s never lived a day in Italy.
I’ve known both him and Alexandra all my life.
Grew up together, within walking distance of each other’s family properties south of Dublin.
Apart from some stints in boarding school in England for Alexandra and me, we’ve also attended the same private schools, although Alexandra two years below Leo and me.
A gust of wind catches the umbrella and I adjust the angle.
“I hope the rain stays away for the spring BBQ.” Alexandra sighs. “I can’t cope with another washout like last year.”
“It was a disaster.” Leo rolls his eyes dramatically and Alexandra punches his arm at his theatrics.
“So sad I had to endure thirty-five degrees in Kuala Lumpur and missed it.” I snicker, but ask, “How are you going to deal with the moody Celtic weather Gods this year?”
“We can’t let three hundred people into the house, so heavy-duty marquees are the only way forward. It’s just such a shame to cover up the garden should it be nice weather.”
“You’ve got enough garden to take from,” I comment drily, then add with a tilt of my head, “If anyone can make it work, it’s you.”
“Overqualified wedding coordinator to the rescue. After all, I have every young woman’s dream job, arranging weddings in Irish castles, French chateaus and secluded Mediterranean beach villas for royalty and celebrities.
” She says the words with a low chuckle.
Most people would never pick up on the sarcasm underneath.
Alexandra is stuck behind her father’s wishes – just like I am behind mine – working for her dad’s world-wide events company, Calla.
Calla has grown so big over the years that Walter Harrington is more a figurehead these days, whereas my dad is still very much a hands-on head of the family business.
Nevertheless, our fathers are of the same controlling mindset, and they’re also close friends since childhood.
They work together on many levels with KSS providing security for Calla’s high-profile events.
Arranging a joint spring BBQ for staff and clients of KSS and Calla’s Irish office is an extension of their collaboration.
“I for one am looking forward to having a party on the Harringtons’ grounds,” Leo assures Alexandra. “You’ve done a brilliant job the last few years keeping an overstocked bar and inviting suitable women.”
Alexandra shakes her head. “You’re unredeemable. Maybe I should chop friends off the invitation list this year.”
“Don’t you dare, woman!”
“You’re right, we do need some flamboyance.”
Leo huffs at her dig at his somewhat outrageous dress sense.
I wonder if Catriona will be donning one of her drab work suits at the event, or if she’ll dress up for once.
I’ve never seen her in anything but those ugly suits, not even on my first day in the office, when everyone else had dressed to the nines as if my arrival was something to celebrate.
And, unlike everyone else, she didn’t immediately respect me based on my family links.
No, from our first meeting I sensed her edges turning sharper and sharper until she was an ice crystal ready to cut me any chance she got.
Oh, if I could only put her on my lap and…
…and tan that arse.
“Rian?”
“Oh, sorry.”
Distracted, I’ve walked past the restaurant where we’re having lunch. I shake my head, trying to shake Catriona out of it.
The restaurant is busy, but the owner knows who I am and quickly has an extra table set up for us.
I pull the chair out for Alexandra as she and Leo laugh at a joke that I don’t get.
They seem to have more in common than Alexandra and me, yet I’m the one who will marry her.
Yes, we will marry. She knows it, I know it – fuck, everyone knows it.
The two of us will join Calla and KSS and become rulers of the Dublin elite.
It’s only a matter of time. Hopefully a few years.
Neither of us are in a rush to seal the inevitable deal.
We want to live a little, have fun before we’re shackled down by another family expectation.
“Squash at nine tomorrow morning?” Leo asks as we leave.
“Make it nine thirty,” I reply.
“You’re such a lazy git.” He chuckles and shakes his head.
I just shrug nonchalantly, kiss Alexandra’s cheek and wave goodbye.
I can see the tall KSS building from far away, looming, making my stomach churn with unease.
I cross the street to prolong the return.
My knuckles turn white as I grip the railing and stare blankly down at the murky water of the Royal Canal.
Only a year ago, I was buzzing with energy, revelling in the sounds, smells, tastes and opportunities of Malaysia, waking every morning with a spring in my step.
These days I barely manage to drag myself out of bed before nine.
I lean over the fence and sigh so deeply, my shoulders slump with the force. My future.
Work for my father’s company.
Marry Alexandra.
Have two kids.
It’s what I always wanted, isn’t it? Then why does the thought of it look as dark and uninviting as the water below me?
Why does it feel like my life is not my own?