by Callie Quigg
“Why don’t you tell her now? Go on—” she shooed him with her hands, “—get it over with.”
He didn’t move. “And take away my fun? You need to understand you can’t lie and cheat your way through life to get what you want.”
“Who are you to question my integrity? I’ve busted my ass to get where I am, and I won’t let you ruin that for me.”
Her adrenaline rush slowed, and drunken disorientation swamped her. How could she have been so smug, so stupid? Lying wasn’t the answer, but she was desperate. Everything she’d spent the past six years building up was about to cave in. All thanks to one white lie and a devil with blue eyes.
“I’ve had enough of this.” A sob clawed its way up her throat, but she covered her mouth and turned it into a spluttering cough. She teetered from the office on shaky legs, followed by Ronan. He grabbed her hand and curled his fingers around hers, and a stream of unwelcome shivers charged up her arm and trickled down her spine before pooling at the base of her back. Her jumbled emotions conspired with her nervous system to take her down. Lust and anger drew a line in the snow and declared war in her body.
She turned to face him, her eyes stinging. “Don’t do this. Please.”
“Too late.” He loosened his tie, and an emotion she couldn’t quite place flickered in his eyes. “If I leave now, how will you explain my disappearance?”
“I’ll say you had urgent business.” Her words rushed out. “You wanted to stay but couldn’t.”
“Covering lies with lies? Classy.”
A snow-damp curl fell onto his forehead, and he released her hand to shove it away. “For the next week, you have yourself a fiancé, sweetheart.” He took a step forward until they were toe to toe. “Congratulations.”
She looked up, straight into his uncaring eyes. No matter how much he tried, he wouldn’t intimidate her.
“Don’t try to bully or scare me. I’ve dealt with worse than you and won.” She stepped backward. “And as for being my fiancé, I don’t think so.”
“Oh, I think so. Look at this place. You actually believe two international stars want to hold their wedding in this hovel? The place is a shit hole. It’ll be a catastrophe.”
“What if it isn’t a disaster? What if we work together? Make it perfect?” Newfound hope swelled her heart. If she could get him on her side, promise him some credit for the job, he might soften. “If we form a temporary partnership, will you still tell Lily?”
Ronan crossed his arms. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
****
Everything Brady had said checked out—the lies, the missing money—but something about Quinn tugged at Ronan. She was either genuinely desperate or someone who would give Jennifer Lawrence a run for her next Oscar. There was a lot more to her story and he wanted to find out what that was.
When he had a few minutes, he’d call his cousin Shane. Last month, he’d accepted a detective’s job, and if there was any dirt on Quinn, Shane would find it and fast. A background check was something Ronan should’ve done before booking his flight. Usually, he was methodical and never impulsive. Always listened to the facts. But when Brady told him about Quinn, logic flew out the window, and until he knew something different, he’d treat everything she said as a lie. She wouldn’t make a fool out of him. Not like Abbey.
The optimism on her face dug its fingernails into his heart and squeezed, but he wouldn’t weaken. He couldn’t. He had to remember she was a con artist and the doe-eyed despair was a persona she probably practiced everyday. No way was he going to fall for a pretty face and a quivering lip, not again. Never again.
If Ronan had the sense he was born with, he’d forget about sabotaging her and let her get on with it and head to his parents’ house, but he knew if he tried to walk out the door, his feet wouldn’t move. He’d been in Quinn Marshall’s bizarro world for all of ten minutes, and he wasn’t ready to leave.
“It’s time we got to work, darling,” he said, forcing himself to smile. “Like you said, there’s a wedding to plan.”
Her nostrils flared, and her fists were all set to pummel him. The way she stood up to him, stood up for what she believed was right, was as sexy as hell. And that pissed him off no end.
“You’re a nasty piece of work,” she spat.
“I’m sorry you think that. My friends and family would say I’m a pretty decent fella.”
“I doubt it.”
The sharp sting in her words annoyed him more than it should have. He shouldn’t care what she thought about him. Shouldn’t care if she despised him or that she’d gladly run him over ten times and then set him on fire, but he did.
“It must be honeysuckle pink, Mr. Moran. You’ll find the exact Pantone reference online.” From the staircase, Lily’s scathing voice sped toward them. Brendan trailed behind her, looking more like a naughty child than a six-foot-four mountain of a man. The browbeaten man glanced in Quinn’s direction, his eyes sending out distress signals.
“Brendan’ll do what he can, Lily.” With liquefied elegance, Quinn straightened her spine, and a cool, professional expression replaced her vulnerability, but she couldn’t hide the slight shake in her hand when she smoothed her hair. “Brendan, if you don’t mind, I’ve emailed you some contracts that I need signed, and Lily, we should FaceTime with Ella to finalize some details. Let’s use Brendan’s office. The wi-fi’s strongest there. You—” she threw Ronan a patronizing glance, “—wait in the kitchen.”
Oh, she was good, he’d give her credit for that. Unable to resist touching her, he reached out and wrapped his arm around the gentle curve of her waist. “But honey, I should be by your side to help make sure everything runs to plan.”
She stepped away and batted her sooty eyelashes at him. “That’s not necessary, honey. There are details I want to handle on my own.”
His lips curled into a wide smile. “I disagree. You know how you are when it comes to wasting money. I can help you stay on budget.”
She stood on her tiptoes, and when her lips grazed his ear, his crotch throbbed.
“Don’t even go there,” she whispered.
He dipped his head, the scent of vanilla drifting from her neck filled his senses, and he couldn’t resist nipping her earlobe. The taste of her skin caught him off guard, and the need to taste more almost overwhelmed him.
Quinn sucked in a sharp, shaky breath. It seemed his touch affected Ms. Marshall more than she would’ve liked.
“Your designer shoes and purse tell me that’s exactly where I want to go.”
“They’re fake.”
“Like you.” He stood back, and watched her shoulders slump, and her eyes fall in surrender. Victory was his, but it was a hollow win. Christ, why was he acting like such a cruel bastard? If his mother ever found out about his dickish behavior, she’d clip him around the ear and tan his arse, but something about Quinn pushed every one of his buttons, and getting a reaction from her—any reaction—mattered more than everything else.
“Fine,” she said. “You can sit in on every meeting if you want. I’m sure your input will be valuable.”
“I guarantee it will be.”
Lily gave a forceful sigh and a tired eye roll. “If you two are done bickering, I’d like to get started.” She fished inside the black pocketbook hanging over her shoulder and pulled out an electronic cigarette. “I knew the whole fated true love thing you sold Ella was a crock. But she wants a storybook wedding complete with an indoor forest of twinkling trees and fake snow, and I’m going to make sure she gets it. Youse lovebirds better make sure she gets it, too.”
Quinn’s calcified body pressed against his side. If he shifted his weight, he could break all contact with her, but he didn’t want to. The heat of her body seeped through his many layers of clothes to his skin. His chest constricted and his fingers curled around her waist as if they belonged there. As if the soft curve of her body was designed for h
is hand alone. Being this attracted to her verged on insanity. She was his nemesis, a fraud, a fake, but instead of removing his hand, he pulled her closer.
Lily took a hit from her vaporizer, the nicotine fix seeming to do little or nothing to soothe the edges of her agitation. “Lemme me tell you, if it wasn’t too late to find another wedding organizer, your cute ass would be out the door so fast, you’d leave your skin behind. Ella should have listened to everything I uncovered about you. But would she listen? Would she? No. Said she trusted her gut about you. Had a good feeling.” She folded her arms and continued her tirade toward Quinn. “She also had a feeling about her last goddamn husband. And look what that got her. A twenty-million dollar sized hole in her bank account.”
Ronan didn’t want to sabotage Quinn’s efforts—not yet. For now, he’d hold his cards close to his chest, but when the time was right, he’d expose Quinn for what she truly was. Guilt played on the edges of his conscience. On every level, his plan was wrong, deceitful, but the devil on his shoulder goaded him to stand his ground. Trusting her protestations of innocence the way he’d trusted Abbey’s was a mistake.
“I’m sorry,” he said, addressing Lily. “Quinn’s worked every hour God gave her for the past week to make this wedding the fairytale Ella and Kai want. She’s running on fumes.” A tremble ran through Quinn, and he didn’t know if it was from fear of being exposed as a liar or because of their proximity to each other. “But,” he continued,” I’m here to take some of the pressure off, aren’t I, love bug?”
Quinn swallowed hard, and the color drained from her face. “Yeah,” she murmured. “I guess you are.”
Lily raised the fake cigarette to her lips and puffed furiously. “Save the lovey dovey stuff for another time. Come this weekend you and your work will be on the world stage—” she punctuated each syllable with a jab of her finger and walked toward the office followed closely by Brendan “—and that includes anything that goes wrong.”
Quinn untangled herself from Ronan’s arms and followed Lily into the office. The heat of her body lingered on his palm, and he ached to curl his arm around her again.
“I want an update and an agenda ahh-sap.” Lily continued to draw on her vaporizer. “And I need wine. Red. Pinot Noir. Think you can arrange that, Mr. Moran, or is this place too backward? Why Ella wants to get married here is beyond me.”
“I’ll arrange it for you right now.” A smile stretched Brendan’s lips. “If you fancy it, I’ll give you a tour of the wine cellar. It’s well stocked.”
“No, I don’t ‘fancy’ it. If I wanted a tour of the wine cellar, I would’ve asked.”
When Lily turned toward the snow-speckled window, Brendan gave her a one-fingered salute.
“I can see your reflection, idiot,” Lily snapped, but Ronan didn’t miss her chuckle.
Brendan flinched and rushed out of the room. Why had he agreed to hold the wedding here? Quinn had probably promised him a pot of gold or maybe he was in on the extortion plan too? Ronan hoped not. Brendan seemed like the salt-of-the-earth kind who wanted nothing more than for everyone to be happy.
He shrugged off his overcoat and slung it over a threadbare chair, which at one time might have been green, possibly blue. The scent of Quinn’s perfume floated upward from where it clung to the fibers of his coat, and the throb in his crotch threatened to overtake his brain. He needed to get away from her to clear the fog rolling through his brain. The effect she had on him wasn’t a welcome one.
“Actually,” he said, moving toward the door. “I’ll go talk with the contractors while you two ladies chat about dresses and cakes.”
“Condescend much?” Quinn raised an eyebrow.
“Have I ever told you how much I love your sarcasm?” He moved forward, lowered his lips, and skimmed a kiss over her forehead. “Don’t miss me too much.”
“It’s safe to say I won’t. And be careful. I wouldn’t want you to do something stupid like touch a live wire or fall off a ladder.” She ironed her hands over his shoulders, and he imagined Quinn digging her nails into his skin while his head was buried between her shapely legs.
“Ay yai yai.” Lily drummed her taloned fingers over the screen of her phone. “If I have to spend the rest of the week with Romeo and Juliet, I’ll stab myself with a blunt butter knife. You, Romeo, go talk to the contractors. Don’t forget to tell them honeysuckle pink paint. You, Juliet, get me the chef. Ella’s extremely particular about what she puts in her body.”
“As I stated in my email last week,” Quinn said, turning to face Lily, “I’ve secured Lorcan White, a Michelin-starred chef, who’s sourced the best organic food Ireland has to offer. We have a tasting scheduled for one this afternoon at his restaurant. We should probably leave within the next thirty minutes.”
At the mention of food, Ronan’s stomach grumbled. He hadn’t eaten anything since the congealed Aer Lingus chicken and rice dish over ten hours ago. “How could I forget about the tasting? I’ll meet you outside.”
Quinn pivoted on her heels and glowered. “But, darling, aren’t you going to talk to the contractors to make sure they do everything as discussed? The correct shade of pink is vital, wouldn’t you agree?”
“But, darling, since it’s the same chef who’s catering our wedding, don’t you think we should taste the food together?”
“We’ve planned a different menu.”
“For Pete’s sake,” Lily bit out. “You’re making me want to hurl. It’s snowing. I’m freezing, and I’m not going anywhere. Bring the chef to me.”
“But it’s already been arranged,” Quinn said. “He’s expecting us.”
“Then he can unexpect us when you unarrange it. I want him here. Got it?”
“Yes. Sure. No problem.” The corners of Quinn’s lips lifted up with a forced smile.
She was a regular little miss people pleaser, wasn’t she? Doing and saying anything to keep the peace. He could learn a few things from watching a professional swindler like her in action.
“And for the remainder of the week,” Lily said, the vaporizer bobbing between her lips. “You’re both staying at the castle. I want you close by in case anything goes wrong.”
“I don’t have anything with me. Clothes. Toothbrush.” A deep groove creviced the area between Quinn’s eyes and underlying panic laced her voice. “I can’t stay here.”
Staying at the castle wasn’t something he’d planned. He’d planned on surprising his mother by showing up unannounced, but since he hadn’t told his parents he was home yet, there was no reason for him not to stay at the castle for a few nights.
“Did you say something?” Lily removed the vaporizer from her lips and cupped her hand around her ear. “Because I hope I didn’t hear ‘I can’t.’ If ‘I can’t’is what I heard, then I can’t transfer money into your account, and I can’t recommend you to anyone else.”
“I can stay.” A saccharine sweet smile spread across Quinn’s face. “It’s not a problem.”
“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”
“Before the snow storm hits,” Quinn said. “I’ll have to stop by my apartment. Pick up a few things.”
“Then let’s go, honey bunny.” Ronan draped an arm over her shoulders. “Maybe we can… catch up on lost time.” A few hours alone with Quinn might help him understand where she was coming from. Might help him understand her desperation, and might make him understand what Brady’s part in all of it was. But that didn’t mean he was going soft, or he’d trust her. He still wanted the job and would still do what he could to get it, even if that meant pretending he was on her side.
“Enough of this crap already.” Lily dragged on her vaporizer. “Don’t take too long.” She waved her hand as if dismissing everyone and left the office.
“Looks as if we’re going to have the opportunity to get to know each other very well.” Ronan couldn’t help but grin.
“I didn’t think it was
possible to hate someone as much as I hate you.”
She strode toward the door, and Ronan couldn’t help but admire the enticing swing of her hips. Maybe this week wouldn’t be so bad after all. A few years had passed since he’d had a decent sparring partner, and Quinn seemed like she’d be the perfect opponent.
Chapter Three
Bloated snowflakes looped and swirled down in a rush to turn everything white. Puffs of Quinn’s chilled breath misted the air, and she wobbled down the icy stone steps at the castle’s entrance, clutching the frosty wrought-iron railings to stop herself going ass over boobs.
Chaotic thoughts about Ronan tumbled over one another like a group of sugar-high three-year-olds jostling for their mom’s attention. He had to get the fuck out of her life. How had he found out about her pitch, and how had he found out about her not so little white lie? None of that mattered right now, though, because thanks to however he’d found out, she had to hop aboard his crazy-train to crazy-town and pretend he was her fiancé. If her life hadn’t crumbled to crap, and if he wasn’t such a bastard, falling into bed with someone as hot as him would be a no-brainer.
Nope. Not going there. She gave her cheek a mental slap. She wouldn’t imagine what he looked like naked. Wasn’t going to imagine what kissing those full lips of his felt like, and she wouldn’t imagine his strong hands moving over her body.
What other choice did she have except keep up the façade of him being her fiancée? None. Saving her business and paying off her debts was her number one goal, even if it meant going along with a farce of a relationship. One stupid lie and now her dream job and a chance at redemption were turning into one epic fail after another.
She shuffled along the snow-covered pebbles and made it to the parking lot and her car without too much slipping and sliding.
“Leaving without me?” Ronan asked from a few steps behind, his lilting accent muffled by the falling snow.
“Not at all. I came out to warm up the car. Wouldn’t want my fiancé freezing his balls off, would I?”