Page 7 of An Angel's Share
RED.
The woman from California.
No, it can’t be. She had jet black hair.
My brain is trying to compute the similarities whilst trying to dismiss the truth. But the closer I look, the more I see.
Let’s be open and honest here. I got a good look at her. Up close and incredibly personal. It is her—Miss Roulette, her name for the night.
What the fuck is she doing in Ireland? And at my in-law’s home? Being kissed by my sister's uncle. Being feted like a returning queen.
Oh, shit. She’s the daughter? Seamus’s daughter. The one who was in America? But she was in New York, not California. It can’t be her.
But it is.
Then she stands up to kiss her father. Her green dress highlights and compliments her russet red hair. The silk of the dress ripples like a waterfall over her fantastic tits. Stretches out over her pregnant body.
Pregnant.
She’s fucking pregnant. She’sveryfucking pregnant.
My world stops spinning, my heart stops beating. But my mind is whirring at one hundred miles per hour.
“Is that Aoife? Seamus’s daughter?” I ask Marshall. My voice faltering over her name.
Marshall looks at me like I’m an idiot, bearing in mind the back end of the speech we just heard. Sure, I saw photographs in the house last summer, but none were recent. Most in the library were of a little girl on one pony or another.
“Yes,” he nods, not taking his eyes off his oldest brother. “Got back from America two months ago. She needs to be here. Seamus is handing the company over to her. America was a red herring. A sales tool, nothing more. She’s finishedher schooling, and she needs to be here. Running this side of things.” His voice shows his approval of her. His respect for her.
He starts to move towards his family and I follow slowly behind as he continues to fill me in. “Her fiancé was in America with her, but he came home a few months before her.” His tone changes when he mentions the fiancé to one that is not complimentary at all. He sounds dismissive of him. It’s a tone I’ve heard before when he’s picking out duds at a horse auction.
Well, well, wow. What a cheating low life she is. My opinion of her has taken a nosedive. In that club as a single woman. Clearly had a man at home in New York waiting for her. Probably thought no one would know. It was an exclusive event, no real names and on the other side of the country. Well, well, well.
I smirk at the memory of our night. She certainly was as fiery as her real hair colour. If that is the real one, and not the black. Now the name makes sense. I smile wider as I think of Miss Roulette. Red or black indeed.
Her first time in that sort of place, she’d said. To be fair, I would have to say I believe that is true. Or she was a brilliant actress. But some things you just can’t fake. And I pride myself on whittling out liars. She got past me though. I must be slipping. But then I was probably concentrating on other matters.
I grin again as I picture that room, sliding my fingers under the collar of my shirt, giving it a tug to get some air in. Yeah, it was that hot.
I watch her as we scoot around at the edges of the room, keeping in the shadows. Marshall is certainly trying to go undetected for as long as humanly possible.
I keep my eyes fixed on her as she smiles at her dad.She’s nearly the same height, the love shining out of them both. Then she turns towards her ‘fiancé’. Not the same smile. Not by a long way. This place is getting more interesting by the minute.
“How long have they been together?” I ask Marshall, keeping my voice as casual as possible whilst my heart rate is picking up.
“No idea. Seamus only sent me an invite a month ago. Don’t think it’s been planned for a long time. Aoife only came home in early June, after she got her doctorate. So it can't be long if I only got the invite in July.”
He shrugs, he’s not interested. But he smiles wider when his brother spots him, and we make our way over to the family table. Me trailing behind Marshall, partially hidden from view, as the music starts up, and the party cranks into full gear.
3
Aoife
The smile dieson my lips. No way. No flaming, mother of god way. This cannot be real. This cannot be happening. But it is. He is.
My mouth drops open when the man trailing behind Uncle Marshall is fully revealed. His deep brown eyes, scattered with golden flecks, are locked on mine. He doesn’t even blink. His beautiful face stands out in a room full of familiar faces. Eclipses everybody in here. I can’t look away, and my heart rate picks up as a small smile appears on his full lips.
I’m going to faint. I feel the flush creeping up my body, my core starting to throb. He can see I’m affected by him, and his smile gets wider, but he still doesn’t blink.
