Page 37 of Twist of Fate
He’s your employee. You can’t kill him—oreven maim him a little.
I’m about to head their way when the door chimes behind me, and I turn and see Rian on my heels.
“Good timing.” He grins.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” And how’d he get here so fast?
“I told you I needed a pint,” he says with a shrug, placing a hand on my shoulder. “And I really want to see how this plays out.”
Fucking hell.
We make our way to the booth, and somehow, even though I left relatively at the same time, I’m the last to arrive. Everyone greets us as we walk up.
“Who’s your man?” Niall asks, gesturing to Rian as we quickly find our seats. There are only two seats left: one at each end, and Rian nearly dive-bombs for the one next to Shea. He gives me a smug smile as I take the opposite side right next to Aisling.
She attempts to scoot down, but that only pushes her deeper into Damien’s side. I rest my hands on the table and shoot my friend a look that promises retribution.
“This is Rian, my best lad and stage five clinger.”
“Hey! You’d seem a little clingy if you just moved back from the States too.” He emphasizes his point with a pouty face.
Everyone quickly introduces themselves to him until only Aisling remains. I can see she’s not sure how to proceed.
“Hi, Rian,” she says, holding his gaze before quickly adding, “I’m Aisling.”
“Right.” He nods, playing along with the ruse because, unlike everyone else, they actually know each other. Or at least, they know of each other. “Nice to meet you.”
Since this pub serves food as well as alcohol, a waitress comes by to take our drink orders. Rian orders baskets of chips for the table, and Niall gets a ham and cheese toastie. Everyone orders a pint of something, but when the waitress reaches Aisling, she hesitates before quickly ordering a cola.
Damien scoffs like he’s personally been offended. “You can’t come to an Irish pub and order a cola!”
“It’s been a long day,” she says with a nervous shrug. “I just feel like a Coke tonight.”
Aisling isn’t a beer drinker. She isn’t much of a drinker. When she was on my tour, she tapped out at two drinks, max, so I wouldn’t ever expect her to overindulge, especially when she is out with her coworkers.
But I have a feeling this doesn’t have anything to do with a work faux pas.
“And you?” the waitress asks, her gaze settling on me.
I was going to grab a pint myself, but seeing how Damien was just laying into her like that had me riled. “I’ll have a cola too, thanks.”
Aisling goes rigid next to me as Damien seems to sense the iciness in my tone. “Hey, Ash, I didn’t mean to—” He stumbles over his words but then somehow corrects himself without missing a beat. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean any offense. Truly.”
He sounds so sincere; it’s almost impossible to be mad at him. It must be the accent. I had a roommate in college whose father was an earl, and he sounded like a real wanker in comparison to this lad.
“It’s not a big deal,” Aisling assures him with a genuine smile that makes me insanely jealous. I didn’t get a smile.
You also ghosted her two years ago, so…
Rian watches the whole interaction with a blend of amusement and intrigue. It’s a dangerous combination for him. You never know if he’s going to sit back and silently observe or meddle just to see if he can fuck shit up.
It’s what makes him excellent at his job. Or so he tells me.
“So you’ll still consider the flat, then?”
Now it’s my turn to tense up.
“What’s this, then?” Rian asks as the waitress starts placing drinks in front of us. Jesus, that was quick.
