by Callie Quigg
“We’ve talked enough,” came her mumbled reply.
He blew out a breath. “I know how much financial trouble you’re in. Half a mill’s a bit of a killer.”
If she was shocked he knew so much about her business, she didn’t react.
Silence hung between them for a few beats. “My ex-boyfriend was the finances and I was the face of Making Memories. We didn’t date long, but I loved him enough to give him a share in my business. Dumb, right?”
“Where’s he now?” Ronan lifted the covers on his side of the bed and slid between the cold sheets.
“In the gutter for all I care. He has a fondness for liquid lunches and powdering his nose.” Her voice showed little emotion. As if she’d resigned herself to the fact she could do nothing.
“Didn’t you know?” The bastard Brady Gibson had a lot to answer for, but what Ronan couldn’t understand was why Brady came to him. What was he after? Ronan had nothing to give him.
“What do you think, Sherlock?” She turned to him, her face resting a few inches from his on the white pillowcase. “You think I said, ‘please take everything I’ve worked six years to build?’ I was foolish. I thought he loved me, y’know. He had so many good ideas about the business, and for a while, he helped me build it. He knew people. Had lots of contacts, but then… then he wanted to do something so vile to newly married couples. Something that would’ve sent me to prison. I had no choice but get him out of my life.”
“Tell me. What did he want you to do?” Ronan didn’t have to ask, he already knew the answer. The cameras in the bedrooms were all Brady’s idea. Quinn wasn’t the con artist, she was the mark, and now it looked as if Ronan was a mark too. He had nothing Brady would want, so why involve him? He plowed his fingers through his hair. Jesus. How could he have been so irrational? So pigheaded? Was his desperation for this job so bad he believed a man who’d screwed his sister over?
“It doesn’t matter what.” She sighed. “When I said no, he cleared out the bank accounts and left me and the business in a hole. I couldn’t pay creditors, couldn’t refund deposits.” A tear slid down the side of her face and dropped onto the pillow. “I ruined people’s dreams.” Rolling onto her back, she sniffed and wiped the heel of her hands over her eyes and held them there for a few seconds before clearing her throat. “I’m dragging myself up and getting on with it. The money from Ella’s wedding will help me pay some people back. It won’t cover everything, but it’s a start, I guess.”
“I didn’t know.” Guilt tipped arrows pierced the center of his heart.
“How could you know? And you being here is making a bad situation worse. Much, much worse.” For the first time since he’d gotten into bed, she looked him in the eye. “How did you find out about me? About my pitch? I need to know if someone’s leaking information about the wedding so I can stop it.”
Under her intense and hopeful gaze, he shifted beneath the covers, and the arrows turned to bullets. He should do the right thing and tell her the truth. Give them a new start with no lies hanging between them.
No and no.
If she knew what he’d done, she’d make him leave and that meant he’d have no more time with her. And time with her was something he both wanted and needed. A couple of hours with her wasn’t going to cut it. Instead of telling the truth and admitting his stupidity, he’d do what he could to make it up to her. Prove he wasn’t the monster she thought he was.
“I know someone who knows someone.”
“Well, that someone you know just about ruined the one chance I had.” She signaled the end of the conversation by turning away and curling into a ball.
Reaching out and pulling her into his arms would be a colossal mistake but one he wanted to make with every fiber of his being.
Chapter Five
The muffled chime of “Jingle Bells” from the alarm on Quinn’s phone woke her at crap o’clock. It couldn’t be time to get up already. After two hours of nightmare-filled sleep involving Lily dressed as a Chrismastime Freddie Kruger, death would be a welcome relief. Beside her, Ronan lay on his side with an arm slung over the pillow barricade. Lucky pillow.
When she rolled out of bed, Max jumped and yipped with excitement.
“Ssssh, there’s a good boy. Don’t wake the big bad wolf.” For once, Max listened and sat down, his spindly tail smacking off the floor. She didn’t want to wake Ronan because she didn’t want to see the look of pity in his eyes again, the one he’d given her last night when she’d revealed what had happened. Spilling her guts wasn’t something she’d planned on doing, but when he'd asked questions, she couldn’t stop pouring out her problems. So much for a problem shared is a problem halved. Slicing open her veins with a rusted knife and watching her blood spill would’ve been an easier option.
By the time she left the room with Max under her arm, Ronan had tunneled beneath the covers. In a different reality, she would’ve spooned into him and spent the morning having headboard-shaking sex, but that wasn’t her reality and never would be.
Lily prowled through the foyer like a starving lion ready to disembowel its prey. As usual, her phone was stuck to her ear, and she continually dragged her fingers through the blunt ends of her hair. The bruised circles beneath her eyes showed a vat of intravenously administered caffeine was needed.Stat.
Despite Max squirming and yowling in the crook of Quinn’s arm and the mass of electronics and files balanced in her hands, she managed to wiggle her fingers toward Lily and mouth, “Good morning.” Staying professional and courteous wasn’t easy where Lily was concerned, but it was a necessity. Her greeting wasn’t returned. Instead, she received a shake of Lily’s head and a thinning of her scarlet lips.
Lily stopped prowling and tapped a staccato beat with her foot. She was pissed. Or hung-over. Probably both. Too bad. There were too many things to figure out today, and appeasing a snippy woman wasn’t on the list.
Max wiggled free from Quinn’s arm and scampered toward Lily. The dog must have a death wish. On top of everything else, she’d now have to deal with Lily’s reaction to a dog that looked like a lab experiment gone awry.
The tiny canine circled Lily’s legs and jumped up, placing two tiny paws on one of her shins. Her eyes widened, and her foot ceased its constant tapping. If the bitch kicked Max off her leg or hurt him in any way, Quinn would kick her back and then quit.
She held her breath and prayed. Lily’s lips lifted into a smile, not a smirk or a grimace, but an honest-to-goodness face-splitting smile. She hunkered down and tickled Max under the chin and behind his ears before looking at his dog tag. Maybe the ice-queen had a heart after all.
The front door banged open, causing Max to run behind Lily’s ankles and pee on the floor. Quinn should be thankful he hadn’t peed on Lily’s thousand-dollar pumps.
A gust of wind and a flurry of snow followed Gary, one of the contractors, into the foyer. He stomped along the floor, leaving clumps of fluffy snow in his wake.
He shoved back his hood and wiped a calloused hand over a shaggy black beard that may or may not house a mouse or two. “Most of the men won’t be in today, love. The roads are like driving on glass. I’m lucky I made it.”
Jittery panic flip-flopped around her stomach, and she glanced at Lily to make sure she hadn’t heard. She hadn’t. She sat on a chair by the embers of yesterday’s fire cooing over Max, who was now curled up on her lap, staring up at his new friend adoringly.
Quinn rubbed a hand over her forehead. “I need a cup of coffee before I can process this.” The guests would arrive in a few days, and even if the castle wasn’t perfect, it needed to look a damn sight better than it did now. “Want one?” she asked, walking toward the stairs to the kitchen.
Gary followed her. “Is the Pope Catholic?”
“How much work still needs done?”
“Too much. I’ll finish fixing the heat today. That way no one will freeze, but as f
or the rest, the rooms won’t get a new lick of paint or a cleaning. My crew’s stuck in Lifford. Unless there’s a thaw by tomorrow, there’s no way we’ll get everything finished by the deadline.”
“Okay—” she said, blowing out a breath and placing her various electronics and files on top of the butcher’s block, “—this isn’t the end of the world, the rooms are more authentic without fresh paint anyway, and I can clean. What else?”
“Only seven out of the fourteen bathrooms have a working shower, but the taps on all the tubs work, and the toilets flush. The cottages on the grounds should be all right with a good cleaning. They’re not as old as the rest of the castle.”
“The bathrooms could be a problem.” She grabbed two mugs from a cupboard and filled them with coffee from an already brewed pot. “You have no way of getting a plumber here?”
“I can take care of most of the basic plumbing issues.” Gary accepted a steaming mug from her outstretched hand. “But I’d be lucky to get one bathroom a day fixed on me Jack Jones.”
“The shower in the honeymoon suite works, right?”
“It does.”
“Then everyone else will have to make do.” She held the hot mug to her cheek and mentally ran through her list. Everything was on the knife-edge of disaster but that didn’t mean she’d fall on the floor and flail her arms while screaming, ‘why me.’ Hysteria simmered inside, but she tamped it down. She needed all of her wits about her to deal with Lily, Ella, and Ronan.
“I know you’ll do what you can,” she said, “but if you could do more than that…”
“I’ll do me best, love.” Gary drained his coffee and set the empty mug in the sink.
The lights flickered off for a second and Quinn’s stomach sank to her toes. Losing power wasn’t something she’d considered and no way could it happen.
Gary cast his eyes upward. “I’ll get to work. See if I can get the backup generator working in case the power goes.”
“And I’ll get to work to make sure I get everything ready for the guests.” Quinn grabbed her iPad and pulled up the weather app to check the forecast. Sixteen inches of snow expected today. All flights in and out of Belfast and Dublin airports canceled. She grasped the tablet to her chest and closed her eyes. What was she going to tell Lily?
****
Ronan pressed end call and kicked the pillow barrier to the ground. Grit scratched his eyes, and with a yawn, he scrubbed his hands over his face. He’d been awake until the wee hours rehashing the arsehole he’d been, and his cousin had just confirmed he was the biggest bollox to ever walk the earth. Shane corroborated what Ronan had expected. Quinn didn’t have as much as a speeding ticket to her name. Brady had cleaned out her bank accounts, stolen her jewelry and anything else of value in her apartment, and was now on the run. After everything Brady had put his sister through, why the fuck did Ronan believe his lies?
The stress he’d put Quinn under was unforgivable. She was doing all she could to survive a crappy situation. If he had any decency, he’d leave, go to his parents’ or try to catch a flight back to New York. But if he did, she’d never make the wedding work, and even though it went against the very reason he was there, he’d help her as much as he could. But getting Quinn to accept his help would take a lot of persuading.
Ronan opened the Today FM app on his phone and listened to the over-excited DJs talk about the worst snowstorms in fifteen years. It couldn’t be as bad as what they were saying. Irishmen were known for telling stories and exaggerating the details. He went to the window and peeled back the curtains. He took it back. They weren’t exaggerating. Twenty inches or more of snow lay in an undisturbed layer. All airports would close until Christmas Eve at the earliest. And, because it was Ireland, they wouldn’t reopen for a few days, which meant he wouldn’t get a flight even if he wanted to. If he went to his parents’ house, his mother would try to over feed him and interrogate him about girlfriends, marriage, and babies, and more than that, if he left, Quinn would fail.
Staying at the castle was his best option, and the first thing he needed to do was find Quinn and apologize for acting like a self-absorbed shithead.
Lily sat by the fire in the lobby with her hands on her head and Max by her feet. Ronan wanted to pretend he didn’t see her, but before he was able to creep past her, she lifted her face and stared him down.
“Can you believe this?” She gestured around the empty foyer.
He glanced around, baffled. “What?”
“No one’s coming to work today because of the snow. How backward are these people, this country?”
The hairs on the back of Ronan’s neck prickled. “Ah, begorrah begosh, sure, ‘tis a fine soft mornin’ out there. Nothin’ but a wee drop o’ snow.”
“Who are you supposed to be, the fricking Lucky Charms Leprechaun?” She didn’t crack a smile. “I don’t appreciate your flippant attitude.”
He staggered back and clutched his chest. “Flippant? Me? I’m as serious as they come.”
Snorting, she snatched up a cast iron poker and plunged it into the fire. “Where’s that fiancée of yours? She needs to fix this. When Ella finds out the airports are closed, someone’s gonna pay, and it ain’t gonna be me. Why she wants a wedding here, I’ll never understand. This is all Quinn’s fault. Filling Ella’s head with fairytales.”
“C’mon, you can hardly blame Quinn for the weather. It’s not like she has a direct hotline to Mother Nature.”
“She’s the one who pitched this idea. A Christmas wedding in Ireland blah, blah, blah. What better way to seal your love blah, bullshit, blah.”
Quinn was doing all she could. A weaker woman would’ve buckled under the strain of having to share her bed with a stranger as well as keep up the pretense of him being her fiancé, never mind her suffocating financial issues.
“The wedding will be perfect,” he said.
“And I’m the Queen of Sheba.” Lily pulled her electronic cigarette from inside her blazer. “I need wine.”
“It’s eight… in the morning.”
“Midnight in LA. When you find Little Miss Love Struck, remind her we have a FaceTime call in fifteen minutes with Ella and Kai.”
He didn’t have to look up to know Quinn had entered the lobby. The light scent of her perfume preceded her every step and coiled around his body, squeezing all the air out of his lungs.
“I haven’t forgotten the call.” She handed a mug of black coffee to Lily.
Lily took the coffee and leaned back in the chair, crossing her ankles. “Get me a shot of whiskey for it. It’d make this hell hole bearable.”
“Whiskey later. Work now. Would you like an update?”
There was a determination in Quinn’s tone, one he hadn’t heard before.
“Not unless you’re about to tell me the bride and groom will get here for their own wedding.”
“Like I already pointed out,” Ronan said, coming to Quinn’s defense. “Quinn can’t control the weather.”
The steely look Quinn shot Ronan all but sliced him in two and told him to keep his mouth shut and nose out. “I guarantee the wedding will happen.”
“Hmph.” Lily scooped up Max and strutted toward the staircase. “Send Brendan to my room with an inventory of his wine cellar and steak for my dog.”
“Looks like Max found his new owner.” Ronan laughed as Lily vanished upstairs. Apologies weren’t something he had a lot of experience with, and now he was alone with Quinn, he didn’t know what to say or where to begin. “Quinn, I—”
“Don’t you ever get involved when I’m discussing a delicate situation with my client.”
“How can I not get involved? She was out of line.”
“I mean it.” Irritation tinted her cheeks a pretty shade of pink. “Butt out.”
“I have years of experience dealing with people like Lily. I want to help.”
“Sure you do.” Skepticism colored
her words, and she crossed her arms, shutting him out.
“I’m not the bastard you think I am.” Saying sorry to someone who thought he was a narcissist wasn’t going to be easy, but he deserved all of her anger and loathing.
“Fooled me.”
“I don’t like how you got this job, but I’m beginning to understand why you lied. I’m sorry. I made a mistake. I’m going to do all I can to help you with no ulterior motive.” He should tell her about Brady. Tell her he knew how this mess of a situation happened. Confess he was a fool who fell for a con man’s lies. But if he did, Quinn would never trust another word he said.
She glared at him, her eyes narrow and hard. “Are you telling me you won’t say anything to Lily or Ella?”
“I shouldn’t have treated you the way I did. Blackmail.” He winced. “Isn’t who I am.”
“Then you can understand why you have to leave and allow me to do my job the way I want.”
He closed the space between them. “Really? You want me to walk out the door and never see me again.”
She lifted her face until their lips were a breath apart. “Sounds about right.”
“I don’t believe you.”
Ronan captured her waist in his hands and tugged her body to his. The scent of her skin drained all coherent thought from his brain, and he crushed his lips to hers. A faint taste of coffee and chocolate coated her lips, and even if he wanted to stop, he didn’t possess the power to walk away from her.
He couldn’t figure out how she had this effect on him. She was everything he didn’t want. But that didn’t matter, because right now, all that mattered was the feel of her soft curves beneath his hands.
She arched into him, her breasts nudging against his chest, her body molding to his. What he wouldn’t give to feel her naked skin, feel her body writhe beneath him.
She streaked her fingers up his back and tunneled them through his hair. Fuck, he wanted to taste, bite, and lick every part of her. It’d been a long time since he’d wanted anyone like this. If ever.