Chapter Six
Ronan strode down the hallway. The walls closed in on him. A woman hadn’t had this effect on him since Abbey.
He needed air. Needed to get away. Needed to think. His feelings for Quinn were growing into something more than he could handle. If he was merely passing time, why did his heartbeat triple whenever she was nearby? Why did his hands ache to hold her, stroke her? Hell, he could even tell when she walked into the room. He’d allowed his cock to control his brain.
This couldn’t, wouldn’t, happen. But it was too late. His heart had put blinkers and earmuffs on and craved nothing but her.
The phone clasped in his hand vibrated. He glanced down. A blocked number, and only one person would call him from a blocked number. Brady Gibson. Perfect fucking timing.
He accepted the call. “You’re a gobshite. What’s your game, Gibson?”
Brady chuckled. “Howya there, Ro. How’s the beautiful Quinn? I believe the two of youse are playing happy families.”
“Still up to your old games. Bleeding people dry.”
“Revenge is a bitch, isn’t it?”
Ronan gave a cold laugh. “Unbelievable. This is about your nose? You set this whole thing up because of something that happened years ago?”
“Not all of it. But when I saw your name in her emails, I couldn’t resist. I knew you’d be fuming someone got what you wanted.”
“You’re lucky your nose was all I broke. If my brothers hadn’t held me back, you’d be six feet under now.”
“Temper. Temper, Ro boy. Simmer down.”
“Stay away from me and stay away from Quinn.”
“Or wha’?”
“Don’t push me.”
“I have a proposition for you.”
“Save your breath. I don’t want to hear anything you have to say.” Blood pulsated in Ronan’s skull. He should’ve known. This was all about money.
“I think you do. A hundred grand in my bank account by the end of the day and cameras in every room. If not, the papers will hear everything. How you and Quinn came up with a story to extort one of the world’s biggest movie stars.”
“What proof do you have?”
“Enough.”
It’d be a cold day in hell before he did anything the lowlife wanted, but for now, Ronan would play along, call his bluff.
“If I do what you want, you’ll disappear? Leave Quinn alone?”
Silence crackled over the line.
“I need your word, Gibson.”
“You have my word.” Brady’s word was as transparent as a tissue landing in a puddle. “I’ll email you where to wire the money and where you can pick up the equipment.”
“You come to me.”
“No deal. Wire the money and come pick everything up or I’ll call one of me journalist friends right now.”
Brady was goading him. Trying to scare him.
“What will a journalist give you? A couple of hundred. If you’re lucky. And I know you’re not far from here. You always keep an eye on your marks.”
Ronan could almost hear the wheels turning in Brady’s head. He must be up to his eyes in it if he was considering coming to him.
“Tomorrow morning. Eleven.” There was a pause. “No funny business. I’ll text you when I’m on the way. Have my money.”
“I’ll wire you the money when I have it in writing you’ll walk away.”
“See you tomorrow.” The bastard hung up.
Ronan would call Shane, have him around when Brady showed up. But he wouldn’t say a word to Quinn. What a fucking mess. He slapped his palm against the wall so hard it stung.
“Another lovers’ tiff?” Lily asked from behind him, her words slurred.
He turned to face her. Max, who’d burrowed into the crook of her arm, wore a black bow tie and gazed adoringly at his new mistress.
“Not at all. Everything’s fine. You look a little unsteady there. Need some help back to your room?” And wine.
“We need food, don’t we Maxie Moo?” She lifted the dog up so they were eye to eye. “My stomach’s ready to cannibalize itself. Be a gent and help us down these damnable stairs. Don’t want to fall and crack my skull open.”
“With pleasure.”
Lily hooked her arm around Ronan’s and clung on like a limpet.
“Have you talked to Ella?” he asked. “Does she know about the weather?”
“Oh, she knows. Let’s just say she’s… not happy. Not happy at all.”
The mouth-watering smell of tomato-basil soup and freshly baked bread scented the kitchen and caught Ronan’s nostrils, pulling him to the stove. Brendan dozed on a chair by the blazing fire, blissfully unaware a con man demanded Ronan plant secret cameras in every room and ruin the castle’s reputation. He wouldn’t let it happen, and he would stop it before Brady destroyed Quinn and Brendan.
“Smells divine.” Lily inhaled deeply.
Brendan jumped up, his eyes befuddled with sleep. “Sorry. Didn’t hear you come in.”
“You made this?” Lily picked up the lid and inhaled deeply.
“That I did,” Brendan replied with a smile.
She scrunched up her nose and placed Max on the floor. “Won’t poison us, will it?”
Ronan ladled out two creamy bowls and pushed one toward Lily. “Brendan used to be one of the best-known chefs in Ireland.” He tore off a hunk of crusty bread and dunked it into his soup.
Brendan blushed and then turned his face toward the fire. “A lifetime ago. Sure, this is just a drop of soup.”
With an unsteady hand, Lily lifted a spoon to her mouth and slurped. “Nectar of the Gods. Don’t think I’ve had better,” She moaned and took another spoonful. “Seems you’re a man with many hidden talents, Mr. Moran.”
“More like wasted talents,” Quinn said, strolling into the kitchen.
She didn’t look at Ronan. Guilt pummeled his conscience. Running out of the bedroom like it was on fire was a shit move. He’d fucked up again. Big time. She was pissed and had every right to be. He’d make up for his too-fast exit later in one of the best ways he knew how, that was if she didn’t kick him out of the room for being a jackass, and if she didn’t find out about his involvement with Brady.
He should tell her the truth, but maybe if she didn’t find out about what he’d done, how he’d lied from the minute he’d met her, she’d think about building on the last few days. His head didn’t want to think about a relationship with her, but his heart did. They had something good that in time could be something great.
She went straight to the stove and ladled herself a bowl, avoiding him as much as she could.
“You know,” Quinn said, tearing off a chunk of bread. “I asked him to make the food for Ella’s wedding, but he refused.”
Brendan shrugged. “I’m too rusty. There’s a difference between some soup and a gourmet feast for famous people. And besides, I haven’t managed a kitchen in years.”
Ronan set down his spoon and used more bread to mop up the remaining soup. “Muscle memory would’ve kicked in.”
Quinn cast a quick glance his way, and he couldn’t decipher if she was annoyed or indifferent. If his shoulders didn’t still ache with the scratches from her nails, no way would he have thought the standoffish woman in front of him was the same one who’d begged him not to stop not more than thirty minutes ago.
“So, Quinn.” Lily smacked her lips together. “What have you done to fix this mess?”
“Is there a mess? I wasn’t aware there was one.” Quinn gripped her fingers together and gave Lily a smile worthy of a saint.
The urge to come to her defense swelled inside Ronan, but he bit his tongue. Quinn wouldn’t thank him for his interference.
“You think I don’t know what’s been going on around here?” The slur in Lily’s voice lessened by the second. Perhaps she wasn’t as drunk as she seemed.
Ronan caught the startled look on Quinn’s face and was about to say something when Brendan spoke up.
“Don’t you worry, Lily dear, we have everything under control. The airport’ll be open by Friday, and doesn’t Ella have her own private plane to fly her here?”
Lily meandered over to the fire by Brendan, followed by Max. “I suppose.” She bent down and picked up the cowering dog, who seemed to sense the tension. “The rooms?”
“Ronan and I organized most of the rooms today,” Quinn said. “The kitchen will be well stocked for the guests, and I think I’m right in saying the plumbing and heating in the entire castle are in working order. Right, Brendan?”
“They are,” he replied. “Gary and the lads sorted everything today.” He picked up a few pieces of peat and threw them onto the fire. “So no problems there.”
Lily rocked back and forth on her icepick heels. “The food? Wasn’t the chef supposed to come here today?”
“The weather… But I promise the food will be perfect.” Quinn reached into a cupboard and secured four wine stems between her fingers. “Why don’t we all have a glass of wine, sit by the fire, and go over the rest of the itinerary?”
Ronan wanted to laugh. Trust Quinn to come up with a way to pacify Lily.
“I guess you could persuade me,” Lily said with a sniff.
“And,” Quinn continued, “let’s FaceTime with Ella to keep her in the loop.”
“She’s at a charity ball in New York.” Lily picked up Max and nuzzled his neck. “Ella’s lost interest. She just wants to turn up, put on her dress, say ‘I do,’ and wait for her picture to appear on every magazine cover in the world.”
“Be that as it may, we still have lots to do.” Quinn uncorked a vintage bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon. “Let’s make this the best wedding the media’s ever seen.”
For hours, they sat around the fire and figured out what jobs needed finished before the guests arrived, and whose responsibility it was to finish those jobs. It was after 2 a.m. by the time Brendan and Ronan wrestled a half bottle of Shiraz from Lily’s hand and lugged her to her room.