Wedding Night
“What the hell are you talking about? Agent?”
“A member of staff at the hotel. He’s been making sure that Ben and Lottie don’t get it together till I get there. We’ve been acting as a team. And it’s worked! They haven’t.”
“But how— What—” He rubs his head, baffled. “I mean, how do you stop a couple from having sex?”
God, he’s slow.
“Easy. Mess with their beds, spike their drinks, stalk them everywhere they go … Then there was the peanut-oil massage—”
“That was you?” He looks thunderstruck.
“It was all me! I orchestrated everything!” I produce my phone and wave it at him. “It’s all in here. All the texts. All the instructions. I managed it all.”
There’s a long silence. I’m waiting for him to say how brilliant I am, but he looks stunned.
“You sabotaged your own sister’s honeymoon?” There’s something about his expression which makes me feel a little uneasy. Also the word “sabotaged.”
“It was the only way! What else was I supposed to do?” Something about this conversation is going wrong. I don’t like his expression, or mine. I know I appear defensive, which is not a good look. “You do understand I had to put a stop to it? Once they’ve consummated it, it’ll be too late for an annulment. So I had to do something. And this was the only way—”
“Are you nuts, woman? Are you out of your mind?” Lorcan’s tone is so forceful, I recoil in shock. “Of course it wasn’t the only way!”
“Well, it was the best way.” I jut my chin out.
“It was not the best way. By no stretch of the imagination was it the best way. What if she finds out?”
“She won’t.”
“She might.”
“Well …” I swallow. “So what? I had her interests at heart—”
“By having her massaged with peanut oil? What if she’d had an extreme reaction and died?”
“Shut up,” I say uncomfortably. “She didn’t.”
“But you’re happy for her to spend a night in pain.”
“She’s not in pain!”
“How do you know? Jesus.” He rests his head in his hands a moment, then looks up. “Again, what if she finds out? You’re prepared to lose your relationship with her? Because that’s what’ll happen.”
There’s silence in the hotel suite, although words still seem to be bouncing off the smoky mirrors, sharp, accusing words. The erotic atmosphere has disintegrated. I can’t find the phrases to rebut Lorcan. They’re in my brain somewhere, but I’m feeling slow and a little dazed. I thought he would be impressed. I thought he’d understand. I thought—
“You talk about Unfortunate Choices?” says Lorcan suddenly. “Well, what the hell is this?”
“What do you mean?” I glower at him. He’s not allowed to talk about Unfortunate Choices. They’re my thing.
“You suffer a painful divorce, so you rush out and decide to save your sister from the same fate by derailing her honeymoon. Sounds like a pretty fucking Unfortunate Choice to me.”
I’m almost winded with shock. What? What?
“Shut up!” I manage in fury. “You don’t know anything about it. I shouldn’t have told you.”
“It’s her life.” He stares back implacably. “Hers. And you’re making a big mistake interfering with it. One you may live to regret.”
“Amen,” I say sarcastically. “Finished the sermon?”
Lorcan just shakes his head. He finishes his whiskey in a couple of gulps, and I know that’s the end. He’s going. He walks over to the door, then pauses. His back is tensed, I can tell. I think he feels as awkward as I do.
Uncomfortable thoughts are needling me. There’s a painful dragging at the pit of my stomach. It feels a bit like guilt—not that I’d ever admit this to him. But there is something I must say. Something I must make clear.
“Just in case you were wondering.” I wait till he turns his head. “I care about Lottie a great deal. A great deal.” My voice gives a treacherous wobble. “She’s not only my little sister, she’s my friend. And I’ve done all this for her.”
Lorcan stares at me for a moment, his expression unreadable. “I know you think you’re acting for the right reasons,” he says at last. “I know you’ve had a lot of pain in your life that you want to protect Lottie from. But this is wrong. Deeply wrong. And you know it, Fliss. You do, really.”