Chapter Six
Iris
I was freaking out.
Freaking. Out.
First, I’d spent the day doing things with my boss. No, scratch that…with one of my dad’s oldest friends that I could never tell anyone else about, not if I wanted to keep breathing and stay unembarrassed. Second, I’d agreed to start what? Some kind of relationship with him where we’d be going to dinner and dating too? Not that I was opposed to that. It was just with Callum O’Brien’s track record, I honestly figured that I’d get it out of my system, have one quick day or few days of an office tryst, and then he’d ignore me and pretend none of this had ever happened. The last thing I’d expected was to be driven by a limo to the best restaurant in Dublin. What was I going to wear?
My mom was good at fashion, and I had the funds on my credit card to get a decent dress, but I didn’t get off work till six p.m. and rushing through the stores to get something and have time to get made up didn’t seem possible. Besides, I had no innate fashion sense of my own. I just wore what was comfortable or caught my eye. It sometimes resulted in boho chic outfits that my dad scathingly mocked, at least back when I was in high school.
I was kind of hopeless.
That was why I was knocking furiously on Allison’s door. “Ally! I have a fashion emergency!”
My friend whipped her door open so fast that I almost fell through as I pounded on it. As it was, I stumbled forward and managed to catch myself against the door frame. “ZOMG, what’s up?”
I was breathing heavily and, okay, totally not looking Allison in the eye when I recounted the whole story to her about the dictation request, the amazing encounter, and now our rapidly approaching date. After all, the sun was already quickly setting.
Allison smirked back at me. “Girlie, I told you he wanted you, and frankly, I’m proud of ya for not playing it so safe.”
“But I have no clue what I’m going to wear!”
Allison crossed her arms over her chest and backed into the room. “That’s true. I’ve seen your wardrobe, and it can sometimes be a bit eccentric.”
“My family sometimes says it ‘sucks.’ My brother is always calling me a hippie, whatever that means. Business fashion I get, but what do you wear to the best French place in Dublin?”
Allison paused with her hands on the closet handles. “Wow.”
I frowned, not sure how to take her hesitation. Ally was many things, but unsure usually wasn’t one of them. “What?”
She pulled open the doors and revealed the well of goodies before me. Allison had great taste and outfits I’d have loved to borrow more, but she was also six inches taller than I was and a bit skinnier. I wasn’t sure if, even now, she had anything I could repurpose without it being too long and too tight. Then again, beggars couldn’t be choosers either.
“What do you mean ‘what?’” she asked, clearly trying to go for the innocent act.
“You’re shocked. Is it bad? Is this a crazy sign that he’s taking me out for this super nice date out of nowhere?” My palms grew sweaty, and I rubbed them on the sides of my blouse. Perfect. “I mean, that’s a good sign, right?”
Allison nodded her head fiercely. “It’s like a grand prize sign. Callum O’Brien is the go-to guy for tabloids, even before footballers and movie stars. If he wants to just do something small or make this a dirty little secret…well, he has done that before.”
“Glad you’re so up on the ‘press’ here,” I said, making air quotes with my fingers.
“We have the best tabloids here this side of London. Anyway, he wants to do the full limo and dinner, that Pretty Woman bit, then he’s definitely something.”
“You think he’s serious? It’s been like a day!”
She put her hands on my shoulders. “Iris, breathe. It’s going to be okay. You overthink everything.”
“Clearly I don’t or I wouldn’t even be this far into a relationship.” I blinked. “Is this a relationship? Maybe he just wants to get me more hopped up on fancy French wine!”
Allison scowled at me. “This is why overthinking is your mortal enemy. You’re having a mini conniption. It’s going to be okay. Don’t mull it over, just do.”
“You mean, just put on a dress, smile, drink the champagne, and don’t ask questions.”
“Exactly. Embrace the lifestyle where you don’t question too much. For a few weeks or months, you’re going to have that wild college story we all dream about.”
The tension eased from my shoulders, and I chuckled at my friend. “Don’t you have six or seven of those by now?”
“And it’ll be worth every penny when I’m a corporate drone or a granny with grey hair.” She pulled out another dress and tossed it onto the growing pile before me.
“True,” I said, sitting down on her bed and starting to look at the collection of gowns and going out ensembles. Sighing, I gestured down to my hips. “Do you think any of your dresses will actually work for me?”
“I have a few wrap dresses that can be adjusted.”
“Thanks, I think.”
Allison grinned and chucked a couple dresses at me. A violet one sailed past my head, and a crimson one landed on my lap. A third crashed by me on the mattress. “You, girlie, get to the bathroom and figure out the right look. You have Mr. Right to impress.”
Although my heart felt light, it still seemed to skip a beat. “You mean, Mr. Right Now?”
“We’re twenty-one. That’s part of the point of having some freedom, you know? I…what would some of those poets you’re always reading talk about?”
I blushed as I gathered the dresses in my arms and stood up. “You noticed that?”
“You have textbooks in better condition than I do. Sometimes I sneak a peek at yours so that I can double check notes for class. You have tons of great writers on your shelves. If I didn’t see your room, I wouldn’t have known. Like Wilde, Shelley, and Byron…all that classic and cheeky romantic period stuff. Why aren’t you in literature? Even as a minor?”
I rolled my eyes. “Because, as my father would say, ‘that’s a waste of time and an expensive way to become a barista later in life.’ I have to be serious, practical.”
Allison waggled her eyebrows at me and pointed at the dresses in my arms. “Not tonight you don’t.”
***
I’d rarely been in a limo before. Basically, if it wasn’t prom-related, I wouldn’t have been. Besides, the rented job I’d been in for senior prom had been crammed with a dozen kids my age and already reeked of weed and spilled champagne. The sleek model—was it a Rolls Royce?—that slid up to the curb screamed elegance. I swallowed, adjusted my clutch at my side, and hoped the crimson wrap dress I’d chosen wasn’t dipping too low over my cleavage or hugging my curves in a way that made me look overstuffed. Or desperate.
Allison swore I was hot in this, that I’d make Callum self-combust with just one glance. I wasn’t sure if she was being nice or not. I just wasn’t that girl, didn’t have Allison’s statuesque body or reigning confidence. But it felt good against my skin, and I had to hope that it had the intended effect on Callum.
Speaking of the devil, he slipped out of his side of the limo, and I had to struggle to keep my tongue in my mouth. He was wearing a well-tailored suit jacket like in the office, but this time it was paired with a black silk shirt that hugged his muscular frame. I wondered what he looked like underneath all the well-tailored clothes, and hopefully I’d be able to find out soon. He strode over to me and, bending his head low in appreciation, he reached out and pulled open the door.
“You look amazing, luv.” He looked me over, and I shivered under his scrutiny. Even I didn’t fail to notice the way his eyes concentrated on my chest as he spoke.
Huh, maybe this dress was the right one after all.
Callum smiled at me as I slid into the plush leather seat of the limo before shutting the door and sidling over and back to his side. The limo was as cushy as I’d imagined it would be with blue lights illuminating the inside, the softest bench seat, and a small bar made with crystal tumblers already splayed out on it. A bottle of scotch, its amber liquid gleaming, sat on the seat across from ours. The window and partition with the driver was already up too.
“He can’t hear us,” he said as he gestured to the black border between us and the chauffeur. “If that’s why you were staring.”
“I wasn’t staring.” Much.
The limo took off, ambling down the congested streets of Dublin on its way to the French place. Leaning back, I rested against my seat and crossed my legs. I’d chosen strappy sandals to go with the dress, something that was low-heeled and would keep me from falling. Between my klutziness and tendency to lose my balance in his presence, I wanted to play it safe.
Callum grinned and ran his fingers over my smooth shin and up my knee to my thigh. I shuddered and looked back at him. His blue eyes were almost hypnotic, seeming to mesmerize me with their power and commanding presence.
“I thought we were going to make it to the restaurant. I don’t mind doing other things, but…” I floundered.
“Vixen, we can do whatever you want. I genuinely want to get to know you, but I can’t resist touching you. Do you know what you do to me? That dress, the creamy slip of your thigh teasing me, the red coating your fuckable lips. You’re perfect.”
I felt my eyes welling up, but blinked the threatening tears away. Most of my life, I’d heard at home how I wasn’t enough, how I was the odd duck out or was such a disappointment to the family dynasty and its needs. At college, I’d thrown myself so hard into studying that I’d rarely had time to date. A few boys here or there had gone out with me, but I hadn’t ever had a man look at me like this. I’d definitely never had anyone tell me I was perfect before.
I wasn’t stupid.
I knew that men like Callum said whatever they needed to in order to seduce girls like me, but it was still amazing to hear those words out loud, something that I’d cling to desperately in days and months to come. That much I knew.
“Really?” I coughed past the lump in my throat and tried to say something, anything to sound less pathetic. Covering for my outburst of hope, I added, “You clean up well yourself. Not that you weren’t being an all large-and-in-charge businessman back at the office.”
Did I really just say that?
I groaned inwardly. Didn’t matter how you cleaned me up, I still made the nerdiest mistakes.
To my surprise, Callum chuckled and poured himself a tumbler of scotch. “You have quite the way with words. I’ve always found that charming in you yanks. Would you like a drink? I have champagne and wine as well, white or red.”
I shook my head and pushed a few errant curls out of my eyes. “Maybe later. I figure there’ll be a ton of wine at the restaurant. After all, the French are known for their wine, right?”
He nodded and sipped his drink slowly and deliberately. It gave me a flash of a Bond villain, someone so powerful and utterly in control of this scene. And yes, maybe a little dangerous too. I still wasn’t sure what Callum wanted from me. Just a “wait and see,” casual approach to dating didn’t match anything I’d ever read about him.
Maybe it didn’t matter.
I was under his spell, and I’d do anything he asked. It was the only thing that made sense to me right now, even if it was utter insanity.
“Are you nervous, luv?” he asked, his voice a low purr that made heat flare through my core and belly.
I swallowed and nodded. “Maybe a little.”
“Can I ask why?”
Because I’ll probably fall over my own two feet? Because I’ll say something too nerdy and you’ll dump me like a hot potato? Maybe because my father will murder us both if he ever finds out?
I settled on a half-truth. “I’m not exactly sure how to act.”
“Just be yourself.”
“Then I guess I’d like to ask if you’ve been to this restaurant before.”
He smirked and stroked his chin. “Is that your way of digging into who I’ve brought here before, my habits?”
“Maybe.”
“Trust me, vixen, you’re the one I’m on a date with now. You’re the only one I want to be with. So if you’re asking if I’ve been to the Pearl Brasserie, then of course I have. If you’re trying to ask me if I’d rather be with someone else, then you don’t need to bother. Do you have anything else to ask?”
I licked my lips and fanned myself with one hand a little. It was a chilly night in Dublin, and I’d felt the air conditioning when I’d first slipped into the car, but I wasn’t feeling it now. No. It was scorching where I was, that heat from my belly filtering out to my limbs and fingertips. My heart was pounding rapidly in my chest. I knew what I wanted.
Had deep down since I’d seen him slip out of the limo and watched the way the suit hung on him.
Taking a deep breath, I scooted across the seat before straddling his lap. Just as I’d thought, he was already hard and waiting for me. This wasn’t like me, but nothing was now. If I only had a night or a week or however long with him, then when I was with Callum, I was going to be Iris Kilshimer, version 2.0. I was going to be the girl he was usually with, offer him the things I could.
It would be that great college story, wouldn’t it?
And I was definitely scheduled to live a life locked into rules, order, and expectations.
He eyed me and curled one side of his lip up appreciatively, it seemed. “Are you the one looking to skip dinner now, vixen?”
I shuddered a little and felt my core tighten at his words. I wasn’t a vixen, but I could pretend to be, could keep him happy as long as I tried. It was flattering, though, that he thought I was one.
My voice was a husky rasp when I spoke. I wasn’t even sure if I was faking it or that was what he did to me. Maybe it didn’t matter. Reaching down, I stroked the hardness of his erection through the fabric of his pants. It seemed to jump against my touch. Warm and solid under my grip, it felt like steel in my grasp. Leaning closer, I kissed his throat, letting my tongue trail over his chin, my teeth scrape delicately against the scruff of his jaw. Flicking my tongue out, I tasted the dimple in his chin.
I’d been fantasizing about that since I’d first seen him.
He tasted of salt and sweat, of his strength and his musk. I lapped at it again and then moved over to his earlobe, even as my hand pumped up and down over his hardness. Grabbing his earlobe between my teeth, I flicked my tongue against the skin there. He let out a harsh breath and, for the first time, I realized the power I held.
Me, Iris.
I could bring a man to his brink, could turn him on. It made me feel potent, made me feel like a woman for the first time in my life.
He let out a small gasp and then spoke. “Luv, you’re killing me here.”
I massaged his shaft, working my hand over it with as much delicate grace as I could through the fabric. “Am I?”
I batted my eyelashes at him, playing coy. Oh yes. I knew exactly what I was doing for him. Continuing my efforts, I rubbed his length with a faster rhythm while I pulled on his earlobe. He shuddered underneath me, and I raised my head. Staring down into those ice blue eyes, I didn’t dare to look away.
He stared at me, and his gaze was punishing, wild. I had a lion in my grasp, and I was the lion tamer. I wasn’t sure exactly what hold I had on him or how long my power would last, but I wasn’t going to give it up. Not right now. I could be Iris the sex goddess, at least for a while.
I could be the woman he was clearly looking at.
Who knew?
Maybe if I played the role long enough, I’d become her.
“You shouldn’t play with me for too long. I might pop there, vixen.”
I shifted my hand so that I was cupping his balls through his pants. I rubbed them between my thumb and forefinger and grinned up at him, like a cat who’d drunk through all the cream. He moaned a little, although he didn’t lose control. I wanted him to, wanted to have him be as tempted to scream as I’d been earlier in his office.
Then again, I doubted Mr. Callum O’Brien, the master of Dublin and basically most of Irish real estate, ever lost control.
But that was quite the challenge; maybe I could make it happen.
“Can’t you just rein it in?” I said, my voice taking on a breathy, faux-innocent quality.
“I can’t rein anything in with you, luv.”
Just like that, he switched our positions. I was the one sitting on the bench seat, and he was the one hovering over me, his hips not touching mine. I reached out for his member, desperate to touch him again even with the cloth between us. Hell, even better, I had my hand on his zipper. He pulled back and then kissed my mouth punishingly.
He tasted of cigar smoke and scotch, of power and prestige, of backroom deals and piles of money. Of all the things I’d one day be expected to be, at least in my own way in my own company.
The scent of his musk hit me as well as the cinnamon tang of his cologne. His tongue tasted mine, caressing it with expert care and attention. I crossed my legs as best I could, even as my clit throbbed. I could understand being close to the edge, could feel the need to come just from making out with him. He must have been feeling that same way when I’d been on his lap.
All that stuff about turnabout being fair play.
Well, soon I’d make him scream. I’d pay him back for earlier in his office.
But it wasn’t going to be today. As Callum came up for air, preparing to kiss me again, the limo ground to a halt. The divider panel with the chauffeur didn’t roll down, but the intercom blared to life, and maybe it was my imagination that there was a bit of an amused tone in his voice.
“Sir, we’re here.”
Callum shook his head and straightened his midnight black tie. “Thank you, Edmund.”
“Oh, my pleasure, sir.”
I frowned and straightened my dress. “Is he mocking us?”
“Edmund’s been in my employ for decades, luv. He’s not paid to think, let alone to mock. I think he just gets a bit tired of driving around a playboy.”
“Tonight, you’re not just any playboy,” I offered.
He sat beside me on the seat and kissed my forehead. “Yes, tonight I’m just yours.”
***
Callum
“I’m not sure this was what I expected when I ordered the steak,” she said, poking at the rounded cut of about three ounces of the most succulent cut of meat in Dublin. Then her fork made its way over to the thin orange slips of parsnips on her plate. “I guess I figured fancy food would be bigger.”
“You’re no stranger to luxury,” I pointed out, smiling at the way her nose curled up like a rabbit in confusion.
“But in the States we give you the economy size,” she admitted. Then she cut into the steak and made a sound that was positively obscene. “Again, this is the best meat I’ve ever had in my mouth!”
I chuckled and ignored the opportunity to tease her with the low-hanging fruit Iris had offered me. I certainly knew about other types of meat that would eventually be filling her hot little mouth.
“See, then sometimes it’s about quality over quantity. You yanks never seemed to get that. Also, I could get you another order.”
She bit into her next bite, and a drop of juice dribbled down her chin before she quickly wiped it away with her napkin. Idly, I wondered if my little vixen swallowed. I bet she did, bet she’d lap me up. Oh, the possibilities.
I cut into my monkfish and took a bite. Exemplary as usual. “I never could understand some of the ways Americans think.”
She laughed, genuinely relaxing around me for the first time as a light shone through her soft brown eyes. “I never get the Irish. I’ve been here three years and my roommate, Ally, will say something, and then I’ll just stare at her and blink, trying to figure out an expression. I think that cross-cultural breakdown goes both ways.”
“Perhaps,” I said, smirking. “Love you yanks, but you have no sense of taste or history.”
“I think usually I’m supposed to say that Europeans have no sense of adventure or being ballsy, but I’m the last person to say that. I usually play everything safe.”
“Why not this time?” I asked, setting my fork down and studying her. In the cave-like atmosphere of the private dining room with its domed roof and low lighting, everything felt even more intimate, more immediate too. It was almost as if I could see every flicker of expression across her face. “What made you take a chance on me?”
“Maybe I should ask you that first.”
I quirked my head at her. “I’ve answered. You know you intrigue me, that mix of politeness and care as well as spunk. Why aren’t you playing it safe this time?”
She sighed and pushed her plate away from her. Gathering her hands in her lap, she frowned up at me, even though her eyes failed to meet mine. “I graduate after this year.”
“I knew you were a rising senior. That’s who the internship has been designed for. Are you going to an MBA program after?”
Swallowing hard, she added, “I don’t really want to, but Dad’s been sweet talking the dean of Harvard all three years I’ve been in Ireland. He says that the dean for the program was in the same MBA class as, well, you guys.”
I ignored the awkward reminder that, if Seth eventually found out, he’d end up having both of our heads on a platter. “Who?”
“Alexander Maxwell.”
“Oh, yes.” I remembered him well.
Alexander had always been an officious toady back then, and he’d tended to trail after both Seth and me and the clique we had run. He’d never fit in, but now maybe he saw his chance to finally make an impression with my friend. It also amused me that he was teaching instead of actually running a company. Alexander had suffered from lackluster grades at best. What was that old saying? Those who can’t, teach, right?
“Well, it’s like a foregone prophecy that one day I’ll take over Kilshimer Developments. My brother’s younger, but he was supposed to do it until he embraced the rock and roll lifestyle. He has like this wannabe successful funk band always playing at venues in Baltimore. Not the right thing, so Dad’s put all the pressure on me.”
“What do you really want to do?”
“No one’s asked me that in a long time,” she said, pausing to take a generous sip of her wine.
I hated to see her like this, to see the defeat in the slump of her shoulders and the light dying out of her eyes the more she talked about the life she was being conscripted into when she got back to the U.S. It was clear the girl couldn’t stand it. I knew the specs on Seth’s company, had done a few deals with them for property outside of D.C. It was obvious he had a talented board of directors and VPs working under him who could take the reins. It was smarter to get the company into capable hands who wanted to be there than shove it into children who resented the whole thing.
What had happened to my friend that he’d developed such tunnel vision?
How had he hidden it from me for so long?
“Well?” I prodded, my voice going quiet and soft. She was like a skittish horse, and I wanted her to relax, to feel like she could confess anything she needed to me. “What would you do if you felt you could? What do you want to do with the rest of your life?”
“Write.”
I frowned, almost sure I’d misheard her. Her voice was so low and quiet. “What?”
She blinked up at me, and her soft, doe eyes seemed shiny with unshed tears. “I want to be a writer, but Dad says that’s a ‘waste of time and potential.’ I even was registered for a creative writing course my first semester at Trinity. When he got the bill, he called me and threatened to call the president of the university to get me out of the class, personally, if I didn’t trade it for economics. For something practical.” She seemed to choke on those words as she spoke them.
“And you did?” I asked, my heart breaking for her.
“Of course. Dad’s already crushed because David is the rebel. I didn’t want to add more stress. And he’s not wrong. It’s very impractical. This is a good education, and the company does matter. He’s worked for decades to build it. I should be able to help him run it and then make sure someone who cares is guiding it.”
“But you don’t want to.”
She shrugged, and her voice was calm and measured. That was what broke my heart the most for her, that she’d given up already on everything. As if it was all set in stone. “What I want doesn’t matter, not when my family might suffer. So yeah, I think I finally gave in and was wild because I never am. In a year, I’ll be locked into classes at Harvard and then to the boardroom, and this was my last chance—my only chance—to do something for me.”
“Or someone,” I said, arching my eyebrow at her.
She tossed her napkin at me, and that light returned to her gaze. Laughing, she said, “You didn’t just say that.”
“Oh, I did. Still,” I said, reaching out and gripping the back of her hand. “You’re wrong. Writing is never a waste. What kind did you want to do?”
“I…poetry. You can see why Dad freaked.”
Seth was nothing if not practical. Somehow it was unfathomable he’d raised a funk band rocker and a poet. Then again, having met Rachel more than once, I knew the kind of ethereal grace and kind-hearted creativity she exuded.
It was sad to penalize the children for being just like what must have drawn their father to their mother.
“Yes, poetry doesn’t make numbers and math sense.”
“Dad calls it the surest route to an illuminating career in food service.”
“That’s harsh.”
“That’s a direct quote. I know it’s not practical.”
“Well, sod practical. Sometimes the last thing you need to do is be bloody practical. Let me tell you something. Poetry was what got my wife through her last days with cancer. She was a huge fan of the classic poets, and I read to her for hours each night, anything to help her deal with the chemo first and then with her body shutting down.”
Iris frowned. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
I shook my head and forced my voice to stay level. I’d loved Priscilla fiercely, loved her still, but I couldn’t be weak around anyone, couldn’t show Iris how many holes my wife’s loss had left in me. No one got to see that side; only Symone suspected how bereft I was, but I could never talk with her about it. I couldn’t bear to add to my daughter’s burdens.
“I keep that close to the vest. The point is that even a few words, lines like, ‘Yes, love indeed is light from heaven; A spark of that immortal fire with angels shared, by Allah given to lift from earth our low desire’ are enough to make a woman feel better for a few precious minutes. That’s worth everything.”
She leaned closer to me, her eyes sincere. “That’s so beautiful to say.”
“It’s true. Don’t let anyone, even your family, silence your voice. It’s the most precious
gift any of us have, luv.”
She sniffled and dabbed her nose with a spare napkin. “Can you maybe take me home? I don’t mean to be a party killer, but I think I need to think, at least a little bit.”
I nodded and gestured for the waiter to bring us the check. “I understand, Iris, and it’s okay. Take all the time you need.”