Callahan_L: Where are you?
The sight of my ex-boyfriend's social media handle makes my stomach flip. I tap out a reply to Liam, and then delete the sentence, telling him I’m never coming home. It would be easier to simply vanish from his life. The safer option for everyone I’ve left behind, except that only leaves unanswered questions and room for dangerous decisions.
Callahan_L: I know you’re online, Sinéad. Answer me. Who was that old guy and why won’t Bronagh tell me what the fuck is going on???
Of course, Mammy won’t tell him about Frankie or that I’m basically dead to them all now. I clutch the cell phone to my chest and take a deep breath. A few minutes later, he messages me again.
Callahan_L: Tell me where you are. If you’re in trouble, I’ll call the Garda… Interpol… Someone will step in. Let me help you.
I snarl with exasperation and toss the iPhone onto the bed while I think. After a few minutes, I decide it's better to tell him the truth—in part. There’s nowhere to hide in this nightmare. The only way to kill a rose is to rip it from the flower bed where it flourishes, then smother the soil in poison, so it never blooms in the same place again. That’s what Frankie will do if Liam figures out I was kidnapped. He’ll torch The Rusty Shamrock with my family and friends trapped inside.
Rather than let the old bastard manipulate me any further, it’s better to take control and cut all ties with my past.
Shamrock_Sinéad: I’m okay. My…
I debate calling Frankie my father, because he’ll never have that role in my life. However, to help Liam understand this lawlessness, I decide to give the man his official title, as it’s the easier option.Fatheris a more appropriate term, rather than the bastard who traded me out of greed.
Shamrock_Sinéad: I’m okay. My father showed up. We’re getting to know each other. I’ll be away for a while.
Callahan_L: Father… WTF did I miss?
Shamrock_Sinéad: We’re making up for lost time. I won’t be home anytime soon. Mammy will take over at the bar.
Callahan_L: Like a few weeks?
Shamrock_Sinéad: Weeks won’t make up for the years he was absent. More like months.
Callahan_L: Fuck… that long?
He has an explanation, albeit a watered-down version. Now there’s no misunderstanding. Liam can move on, and I’ll drown under a wedding gown stitched with lead and lined with chains.
Blowing out a jet of air, I swipe the app closed and groan, feeling sick in the pit of my stomach.
There are mumbling voices from the passageway close to my room. As I start to stand, the door swings open and all the air rushes out. Radiance surrounds the circumference of a man who fills the entire entrance. It’s not only his godly build the streaming light worships, but his intimidating presence too. His entirety commands my full attention.
The soles of my bare feet anchor in position, steadying myself as I sip oxygen to control the paralyzing rhythm of my heartbeat. I could swear there's a thunderous rainstorm battering the yacht until I realize it’s the sound of fiery blood whooshing faster in my skull.
André Souza prowls inside without a fuss from Pup, angles back, and closes the door behind him. The glare of light cuts out, so I’m trapped alone with only him and shadows. Casually turning to face me again, he advances, shortening the gap between him and me, his gait confident.
Rather than move away, I hold my defenses ready for war, even though his sudden appearance leaves me breathless.
The atmosphere has changed. It crackles, the quality of it stricken with woody tones of vetiver cologne. All I can smell is this deific man. I stare up at him in a hushed standoff.
Taking one more step, he kills my personal space, his firm chest colliding with mine. The collision kick-starts a frustrating shiver and my nipples harden. Still, I don’t move. Our gazes fuse, his dark and unreadable. I silently pray he doesn't notice the throbbing vein in my neck. The giveaway sign that he’s swept me into a disorienting maelstrom.
“I heard you’re getting married.” The smokiness to his baritone whispers a shiver right through me. “Glad I’ll be around to celebrate your big day. I mean… you do remember me, right? You remember sitting under our tree while the shitty Irish drizzle clung to your pretty black eyelashes? And then you ran away—never to be seen again—until tonight.”
I can’t quite decipher his expression. There’s a subtle quirk to his soft-looking lips, but his unsettling coal-colored eyes, they speak to me in a way I can’t fathom. Wide pupils reflect miniscule pale-silver flecks captured from the moon pinned to the sky like a platinum button. Jet-black lashes lower as his gaze travels to my braless breasts covered by a flimsy layer of stretchy material.
“It’s good to see you again, Sin. Now that we’re older, we should party together.” Pearly white teeth sink into the corner of his bottom lip, the result, a killer smile. “Just you and me. Like old times—without any rules.”
My pulse skips, yet I clench my jaw shut, recalling all the wasted tears I had cried for him. I watch his plump lip pop free and hear a low hum that rumbles with the movement. It ignites microscopic fireworks all over me.
“You're trembling, Sinéad… and knowing you, it's not from fear. It’s something far more fascinating than that, isn’t it? It’s been way too long.” Tattooed knuckles trace the curve of my chin. “This silent treatment is getting me horny. You look better than ever. Did you miss me?”
I suck in a sharp breath, preparing to finally stand up to him.
“Miss you?” My tone rises a decibel higher than normal. “I didn't even know who you were until my bodyguard told me your name. To be honest, I’d forgotten all about the Souzas.” I shrug, afraid the fibs don’t sound convincing. “That guy out there manning my door has a big gun and a bad temper. I wouldn’t piss him off if I were you.”
