Page 14 of Naughty Irish Liar

Sure, I did do that with everyone else. I was making a special case out of Catherine for my own reasons.

“Oh, okay!” She smiled, shoulders drifted down from around her ears. “I’m loving it so far. It’s hard work, but fun, you know? And Jacob has been really helpful if I forget anything. So has Dylan.”

I just bet they have.

“Stop flirting with the staff,” I about growled, the words ripped from behind my clenched teeth. “Hooking up on the clock will get you kicked out of the door.”

She blinked. Long lashes almost coasting her curved cheekbones and a slight color appeared behind her freckles. “What? I never. I haven’t!”

“You’ve been warned.”

Something hot and lickable flashed in her eyes.

I watched it happen, the confidence push back her shoulders, her chin lifted, and she even had the gall to point her finger at me. “You’re an asshole, Ronan MacNamara! You haven’t even been around since I started to see if I’m flirting with your precious male staff, so don’t jump down my throat until you have all the facts.”

Jump down her throat.

Yeah, I was a pig because I saw every inch of me sliding down her goddamn throat until she gagged, and pretty tears ran out of the corner of her eyes while Ipumpedin and out making her take all I had to give.

“And furthermore,” oh great, she wasn’t finished. I crossed my arms. “There’s only one person I would flirt with here and it’s neither Dylan—who isn’t my type, nor is Jacob who has a live-in boyfriend, which you’d know if you took the time to get to know your staff.”

I vaguely remembered Jacob kissing some guy at a birthday party last year. Whatever. I stole my eyes over her, watched how she fidgeted. Was the princess nervous or still a little mad? Either was good for me.

I found myself asking and wanted to rip my tongue out the second I did. “What’s wrong with Dylan?”

She rolled a shoulder. “Not my type. He’s a gamer. He’d spend more time on the couch in a trance than he would romancing me. I need romance.”

Four days. She’d been here four days and she knew more about my staff than I did. Nosy, talkative little brat.

“Tell me,” I said flatly. “Have you worked at all since being here or just gossiped?”

Rather than deny my accusation she beamed a smile. “I’m multi-talented, I can do both. I really do appreciate the job, Ronan.”

“Why does a hotelier princess even need a lousy twelve bucks an hour for schlepping trays to drunken morons?”

“I’m glad you brought it up. Twelve dollars, not counting tips, is low in today’s wage standards. I think I need a raise.”

“You do, do you?” Before she could reply I said. “Answer my question, princess.”

“I wanted to work, is that so big of a surprise? I don’t live off my parents.”

“Bet they pay for your fancy Columbia college.”

Why was I provoking her? Trying to get under her skin failed miserably when she smiled, twirling her hair again. Standing in the middle of my office I realized she looked older. Not just in age, although that too. All her baby fat from sixteen had curved out in the right places. Mainly hips and ass. No tits to speak of but my eyes were fucking obsessed with them. But it was the air of confidence I was intrigued by. Whereas the last time I’d known her she was given to manic talking or extreme tantrums on the few occasions I overheard her father laying into her for one reason or another, Catherine had stomped and yelled just like any brat would. “Of course they do,” she provided. “Parents pay for education the last time I checked. And when we—when I have kids I’ll pay for their education too. It’s the circle of finance.”

She didn’t think I caught her slip of the tongue

I caught her slip of the fucking tongue. My insides twisted, no humor to be found.

“And you just had to work here and not one of your father’s hotels? Even one of those fancy boutiques, you must know people who own them.”

“Sexist much!” She accused with a laugh and didn’t she just help herself to a can of soda from my mini fridge. I watched her pop the tab and drain a big gulp before licking her wet lips.

The little brat was doing that on purpose. I know this because she dared wink catching me watching her. Scowling, my brows dropped down to my fucking jaw.

I didn’t play silly games with little girls.

Even if my cheeks urged to grin.

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