Page 33 of Twist of Fate
Then I’m going to revisit the plan of tossing him out the window, I want to tell her.
“Are you?” I ask instead.
Her gaze falls to the table, lingering on the empty plate. Her fingers nervously brush over a spot on her left hand. “No.” Her answer is barely a whisper, yet I hear it loud and clear, especially when she adds, “I just got out of a messy relationship. I’m not really looking for anything at the moment.”
I swallow hard, feeling those words grate down my throat like knives.
They shouldn’t hurt this much. She’s off-limits, and on top of that, she lives thousands of miles away; yet, they still do.
“Right,” I find myself saying. “Grand. That’s grand.”
But, hours later, when I’m back in my empty, hollow room, staring up at the ceiling, I can’t help but think the opposite.
It’s not grand. Not fucking grand at all.
TEN
Aisling
PRESENT
It’s been just over two weeks since I moved to Dublin.
My work life is hectic, or up to ninety if you ask my Irish coworkers, but I’m not entirely sure what that means or if I’m even saying it right. Irish slang isn’t my strong suit.
When Nora warned us we would be hitting the ground running, she wasn’t lying. O’Connell gave us all six-month contracts and seemed determined to make the most of every minute.
So far, I think we’ve made decent progress.
But, damn, I am tired.
Bright side? Since I just moved here and know absolutely no one except my coworkers, I have virtually no social life to stress over when I leave the office at night. It’s just me, a lonely hotel room, and all the Irish sitcoms I can handle.
That is sarcasm, if you can’t tell.
Life feels strangely good and terrible at the same time.
But I’ve been walking that thin line for a long time now, so I’m sort of used to it.
One positive aspect is that aside from our awkward encounter in his office, I haven’t seen Finn much at all. I suppose being the acting CEO of his family’s company has kept him busy because, apart from a few glimpses here and there, we’ve managed to avoid each other for two solid weeks.
I should have known my luck was about to run out.
It always does when it comes to him.
It’s just after lunch, and we’ve been in the conference room for about an hour discussing our ideas on how to diversify O’Connell’s clientele when Finn walks in like he owns the fucking place.
Oh, right. Because he does.
“Finn!” Nora hops up to pull out a chair for him as if he’s royalty. Maybe she’s just being polite; I don’t know. All I feel is annoyance—and maybe a hint of lust—but I just attribute that to old feelings, like muscle memory. Can’t be helped. My gaze lingers on his broad chest as I force my eyes upward. Yes, definitely old feelings. “I hadn’t realized you’d be joining us today.”
He takes the offered chair and thanks her, sitting down right next to me. I take the high road and pretend he’s not there, opting to focus on the notes I’d given up on ten minutes ago.
Okay, so I hadn’t even started them. Whatever.
“I had some free time today, so I thought I’d drop in and see how things were going.”
Even after two years, I still remember the feeling of Finn Larkin’s gaze on me. It’s like a warm tingle at the back of my neck. I lean back in my chair, trying to appear unaffected, but it doesn’t work.
