When Garogyles Love Trilogy

by Chris Redding

  As much as Damien had an ego, it was a fragile one. Fiona doubted that anyone could put a dent in Declan’s ego.

  “Uh. That won’t help me network,” she said.

  He smiled, then looked around. “What’s your game plan?”

  “I don’t have one.”

  “Okay.” He rubbed his large hands together. “Then follow my lead.”

  A woman walked up to the bar and was obviously admiring Declan. He smiled at her, then introduced himself. The woman might have blushed and she wasn’t that young.

  “This is Fiona, my friend. She’s an artist.”

  The woman glanced Fiona’s way. “My husband would probably love to meet you. Let me get him.”

  She left while Declan turned to Fiona. “That was easy.”

  Fiona laughed. “You had an in with her. She was already drooling over you.”

  Declan shrugged. “Whatever works.”

  She just shook her head as she watched the woman drag her husband to the bar.

  “This is Fiona. She’s an artist, Harvey. You were looking for some art for your new office, right?” the woman said. “I’m Betty.”

  “We don’t need to talk business here, Fiona. Do you have a card?”

  Fiona stammered then Declan handed the man a piece of paper. “She’s fresh out. Here’s her number.”

  How did Declan have her number? Oh, right. She’d called him. She mouthed, “Thank you,” to him. He just nodded as the woman put a hand on his arm. He turned to talk to her, but he had one hand on Fiona’s that was resting on the bar. Was he telling her that he was here for her?

  At that moment, the emcee called everyone to dinner. Declan escorted Fiona back to their table. “That was brilliant. Thank you.”

  “You said you needed eye candy, so I was eye candy. I think.”

  Didn’t he know what that was? Before she could ask, the waiter put a salad in front of her and her stomach rumbled. Lunch had been a long time ago. “Thank you, Declan. I do appreciate your support. I’m sorry about earlier.”

  “No worries, luv.”

  She studied him for a moment. Where had he come from and why didn’t he have a girlfriend?

  “You should eat your salad, lass.”

  She smiled then dug in to her food.

  ***

  Fiona entered the studio the next day and knew instantly that something was wrong. The air crackled with what was probably Damien’s bad mood. Lucky her.

  Too bad she had the name of a man who might want her to create art and the number of someone else who wanted to sponsor her. Despite Declan’s warning, she hadn’t given up the idea that she would meet whoever left her the note. He hadn’t given her a clear reason not to. He was holding something back and she’d accused him of not having faith in her.

  She was the one who didn’t have enough faith in herself. She’d projected that onto him.

  Fiona greeted the two other assistants who didn’t make eye contact with her. So she was the one in trouble. Okay. She gathered some brushes and a small canvas to use for the day. Looking in her cubby, she didn’t have any instructions from Damien.

  She’d have to go find him, but then she’d find out why she was in trouble. Might as well get it over with. “Where’s Damien?”

  Both assistants shrugged. They didn’t want to be party to any of this. Fiona strode up the stairs to where Damien had an office. It was pristine, unlike his studio. He sat behind his desk as if waiting for her. He probably had known when she was in the building.

  “Damien? Good morning. You haven’t left any instructions for me.”

  “Sit down, Fiona.”

  This wasn’t good. Could he know about last night? “Okay.”

  She sat on the chair opposite him. He didn’t speak right away, but Fiona didn’t look away. That would be a sign of weakness. She waited for him to speak, not guessing what he was mad at. Not falling for that trap.

  Damien leaned forward on his desk, planting his hands. His gaze tore through her. She refused to flinch.

  “Fiona.”

  She just looked back at him. Despite her heart racing, she didn’t think she showed any outward signs of her nervousness.

  Damien sighed. “I took you off the streets.”

  That was a bit of an exaggeration. She hadn’t been some homeless waif. She’d graduated with honors with an art degree. She’d interned in Paris for a summer. Her journey to him had brought her some impressive credentials.

  “And you’ve betrayed me.”

  He must know about her conversation last night. She could lie and blame it on Declan, but she didn’t. “Oh?”

  “I know that you were checking out possible sponsors last night.”

  Had she been set up? Had the man who approached her told Damien for some reason? Did her potential sponsor want her to be in a crappy position to negotiate? “I spoke to one man about making some art for him. Nothing was agreed upon.”

  He smacked his hand on the desk, making her jump. “You know you can’t create art for anyone else while you are under contract with me.”

  “That contract will be up this year. There is nothing in it that says I can’t lay the groundwork for that now.”

  She’d read it again last night just to cover her butt. Damien shook his head. “I think you think that you are better than you are, Fiona. On your own? Mediocre. Maybe slightly better with my tutelage.”

  God, he was arrogant. What had she seen in him? She remained silent, letting him get out whatever he wanted to say so she could go back to work.

  “I find myself in an untenable situation, Fiona. I feel that you have broken our contract. You’ve broken our agreement.”

  She swallowed. Was this good or bad? She might not know for a while. She might be eating ramen for a few weeks.

  Damien leaned back in his chair. “I have no recourse but to let you go. Pack up whatever is yours and leave these premises.”

  At first, Fiona wanted to argue, but when the sense of peace overtook her, she rose and left Damien in his office.

  Freedom tasted…interesting.

  Chapter Seven

  Declan’s phone rang. He answered it when he saw that it was Fiona. “Hello, luv.”

  “Hey, Declan.”

  “You aren’t sounding so cheery, lass. What’s wrong?”

  “Damien, my boss, found out that I was looking for a sponsor last night. He fired me.”

  “Can he do that?”

  He sat at what would be his desk in his office when the space was renovated for Foley Security. The chair was a crate and he’d only sat down to see if he could actually work in an office. He was just used to be out in all sorts of weather. The North Atlantic brought Ireland some impressive storms. After thousands of years outside, would it be a blessing or a burden?

  She sighed. “He can. It was part of my contract that I didn’t do art for anyone else while under his employ.”

  “You haven’t done any art for anyone else, have you? Can’t Colleen help you with this?”

  “Part of me is viewing this as a blessing in disguise.”

  “And you wanted to talk to a friendly voice about it.”

  “Yes, Declan. You were the first person I thought of. I hope that’s okay.”

  It warmed his heart. “It’s more than okay, lass. Where are you?”

  “Why?”

  “Let me pick you up. It’s almost time for lunch.”

  “Lunch?”

  “Yes. I’ll take you out and help you forget about Damien.”

  In any way that she’d let him.

  “Well, okay. I’m almost home now.”

  He disconnected and went to find his brothers. “I’m out of here.”

  “Where are you going?” Donal asked.

  “To see Fiona. She’s in a bit of a slump. I want to cheer her up.”

  Both brothers turned to each other, then echoed, “Aye.”

  He left his brothers arguing over carpeting. He didn’t care a whit about what the
place looked like. If they had described it properly he wouldn’t be in the office very often anyway. Their jobs would be out among people. Except for Tex. He’d still be behind a computer. Maybe he should have an opinion of how the place looked.

  Declan pulled out his phone and used the Uber app to get a ride to Fiona. She was sitting on the steps to her apartment building when he arrived. She smiled when he climbed out of the car.

  She hugged him and he didn’t want to let her go, tucking his chin against her neck. He inhaled her scent. She was his. He knew this without any doubt. She finally let go. “Where to, luv?”

  “There’s a bar around the corner. They have great burgers.”

  “Lead on, lass.”

  He fell into step beside her and soon found himself in a dark bar with lots of wood. An Irish pub the door said. The bartender pointed at some seats, “Sit anywhere.”

  One younger man occupied a stool at one end of the bar. Some music wafted through the air and the air was redolent of good Irish beer.

  “Nothing fancy,” Fiona said when they sat down.

  “I don’t need fancy. We had that last night.”

  “How did you find a tuxedo on short notice?” she asked.

  “Donal knew a guy.”

  The bartender meandered over with menus. Fiona didn’t even look at hers. “We’ll both have a Guinness.”

  Declan looked up at the man. “Just water for me.”

  “Not drinking?”

  “I have a feeling one of us needs to stay sober, luv.”

  Fiona just shrugged. “Then one Guinness.”

  “You ready to order food?” the bartender asked.

  “Your house burger with fries,” Fiona said then looked at Declan.

  “I’ll have the same.”

  The bartender wandered away with their menus and Declan wondered if they would get their food. Not that he had to be anywhere. His brothers would understand. He had a fairy to watch over.

  ***

  Several hours later, Declan was glad he hadn’t had anything to drink. Fiona had consumed enough for both of them. She’d put her head down on the table and he was glad she lived close by.

  “Fi?”

  “Hm?”

  “I’ve paid the check. Let’s get you to bed.”

  Her head lifted off of the table. “Bed?”

  “To sleep Fiona,” he said.

  “Oh, Declan. Live a little.”

  He helped her out of the chair. “Are you steady?”

  “Sure thing, handsome.”

  She took a few steps then shifted to her left. She stopped herself with a hand on the wall and a giggle. “Did I drink that much?”

  “Yes, luv, but I’ve got you. Put your arm around my waist.”

  She did. “Wow, Declan. You are solid.”

  “The better to hold you up.”

  He managed to get her to the front door of the bar and out onto the already darkened street. Fiona leaned into him and she smelled better than the first flowers of spring. She began to tug at his shirt. “I bet you have a six pack under there.”

  He shoved her hands off of his shirt, but then she let go and almost toppled onto the sidewalk. “Fiona. Get me your key.”

  She giggled but dug into her bag, finally fishing out a key. He took it from her then hoisted her into his arms.

  “No one has ever carried me like this. I’m too heavy.”

  “You’re as light as a feather, luv.”

  She put a hand on his chest. “You’re heart isn’t even beating fast.” She looked up at him. “How?”

  His heart was beating fast. Not because of the exertion, but because of holding his fairy in his arms. He didn’t want to feel this way. He should be detached, but Fiona had already gotten under his skin. As if she belonged to him.

  He unlocked the front door of her apartment building then carried her up the steps. She was singing the whole time. Hopefully, no one was sleeping.

  He put her down to unlock her apartment door. She fell against him, but he was able to get her into the apartment and lock the door behind them. He looked around having been too busy looking at Fiona when he’d picked her up the other night. He dropped the keys on a table then picked her up again.

  “Declan, you’re carrying me to bed?”

  “Just to sleep.”

  Not that he wouldn’t want to be with her. She was a beautiful woman. He’d never get tired of looking at her. He set her down on the bed, then went to work on her shoes. She leaned down and grabbed his hair. “I’m up here, buddy.”

  “Fiona, let go of my hair.”

  She did and he managed to get one shoe off before she sat up again. “Declan?”

  “Fiona?”

  “Do you think I’m attractive?”

  “You’re beautiful, Fiona.”

  The other shoe came off and he moved her legs onto the bed.

  “Beautiful?”

  “Aye, lass. As fair as they come. Now go to sleep.”

  Before he could move away, she grabbed his face and planted a kiss on his lips. He took a step back. “Fi. I can’t.”

  She looked up at him with pathetic eyes. “Why not?”

  “You’re drunk, Fiona. It wouldn’t be right.”

  “I know what I want.”

  She tried to get up but fell out of bed instead. “Declan?”

  He placed her back on the bed, but her eyes had fallen closed.

  “Don’t leave me.”

  “I’ll be in the other room, luv.”

  She rolled over and curled up. A soft snore escaped from her lips and Declan couldn’t help but chuckle.

  ***

  Fiona awoke in the darkened room. She sat up having no idea what time it was or even what day. Or even why her head was pounding each time she moved.

  “Oh. God.”

  It all came back to her. Being fired. Drinking. Making a pass at Declan. Him turning her down. She flopped back onto her pillow then groaned as her head hurt even more. It must be early morning. Slowly rubbing her eyes, it all came back to her, leaving her wishing she didn’t remember the day before.

  Checking her phone she realized it was the middle of the night. Her eyes went wide as she heard movement.

  “Luv?” Declan said from the doorway.

  The streetlight outside put him in shadow, but she could smell coffee. The scent made her mouth water. “Is that for me?”

  “Aye, luv. And something called aspirin. Donal recommended it. He said your head would hurt.”

  “It does.”

  He stole into the room, stopping by her bedside. “May I turn a light on?”

  “No. I’m sure I look like death warmed over.”

  “I doubt that, Fi.”

  He reached down and turned on the lamp. She winced at the light. Declan didn’t seem to notice when he handed her the coffee mug. She sipped it at first. “It’s good.”

  Declan shrugged. “It was what you had in your kitchen.”

  “It doesn’t taste this good when I make it.”

  She took the aspirin he gave her, swallowing it with one gulp of the coffee. “I’m sorry Declan.”

  “For what, luv?”

  With a pat at the mattress, she said, “Sit. It hurts my neck to look up at you.”

  He settled on the edge of the bed. At least she was dressed and didn’t feel vulnerable. He’d only taken off her shoes. “I’m sorry for making a pass at you.”

  “I’m not, but I couldn’t do anything because you were drunk.”

  She gulped. “You mean if I’d been sober, you might have kissed me back?”

  “I would have.” He stood. “You need food? I ordered some takeout and left you some.”

  He walked out of her bedroom as if he hadn’t just professed that he wanted to kiss her.

  Damn.

  ***

  Declan stayed until she’d finished eating and now she was alone in her apartment. They’d chatted about nothing and then he had to get to work. This left Fiona alone wi
th her thoughts. She calculated how long she could live on what was in her bank account.

  It wasn’t very long. She’d have to find something.

  Then she remembered the note someone had stuck under her plate at the banquet. She rose from her couch and searched for her purse. Declan had left it for her in her bedroom. She dug into it for the piece of paper, ignoring that Declan hadn’t wanted her to contact the person.

  Declan was a friend, but he couldn’t rule her life. She wasn’t going to let any man rule her life again.

  Well, if this benefactor wanted to pay her, he’d have a big say in what she created. She eyed the number for a few minutes, after her butt landed on the edge of the bed. It seemed like a surer thing than the man who might want some art done for his office building.

  Maybe she could make sure there was no non-compete clause in her contract with the anonymous benefactor. She drummed her fingers then went back into her purse for her phone. It wasn’t there, but Declan must have put it on her nightstand because that was where she found it.

  Once again she sat on her unmade bed, the multi-colored bedspread almost completely on the floor, her mind just as messy.

  “Why would he leave me a note if he wasn’t serious?”

  Assuming this was a man. “Get over it, Fiona. Just call.”

  Declan’s displeasure withstanding, she dialed the number on the piece of paper. “Let it go to voicemail.”

  “This is Brent.”

  It wasn’t voicemail. “Hi. This is Fiona Brady. This number was left for me.”

  “Right. That was me.”

  “You mentioned you might want to sponsor me.”

  “Yes. I would, but I’d love to work out the details in person,” Brent said.

  “What’s your full name?” she said.

  She would have to Google him before she met with him. He could be some psycho. She didn’t want to go from a bad situation to a worse one.

  He chuckled. “Brent Houseman. Feel free to look me up on the internet.”

  “This is a little unorthodox.”

  “That might be true, but I know your work.”

  She crossed her legs. “How do you know my work?”

  She’d only ever done art for Damien. Her own stuff never left her apartment. She looked around her bedroom to make sure none had left on its own. Silly as that idea was, she couldn’t figure out how he would know what was hers and what was Damien’s.