Page 35 of Twisted Secrets
“Good.” She made a shooing motion. “Now, go get dressed. You don’t want to be late.”
Since she wasn’t even sure she wanted to go in the first place, being late was the least of her worries, but she went back into her room and threw on the first thing she laid hands on—a pair of holey jeans, her boots, and a tank top that did great things for her minuscule chest. It wasn’t fancy, but she had to work afterward, and that was more important…and she might just be digging in her heels in protest in any way she could.
She stopped in the kitchen to drop a kiss on Hadley’s head. “Be good for Mrs. Richards.”
“Tell your mommy that you’re always good.” Mrs. Richards grinned. “You look great. Now git.”
Olivia shook her head and snagged her purse on her way to the door. “I’m closing tonight, so feel free to use the pullout couch.”
“I always do, dear.”
She knew that. God, she had to stop micromanaging and get her ass out the door. “What would I do without you?”
Mrs. Richards smiled. “You’d do just fine. Now go meet your man and have fun.”
“Night!” She waited at the door, just like she always did, to hear the click of the lock before she hurried down the stairs. Mrs. Richards was right. She’d cut things too close, and now she was going to have to catch a cab instead of the T. She tried not to think too hard on how many tips she’d have to earn to make up for this splurge.
Cillian will pay it if you let him.
No way. She wasn’t going on this date to find a sugar daddy to take care of her problems. She’dpicked Sergei because she thought being with him would make her feel whole, and look where it took her. No, fulfillment, whether financial or emotional, couldn’t be found in another person. She’d make her own way or sink while trying.
She caught a cab down the street and rattled off the address Cillian had texted her earlier. As the cab pulled up, she discovered it was a tiny restaurant in the West End—close enough to Jameson’s that she wouldn’t have to take another cab, but also far enough away to be outside Beacon Hill. It struck her that Cillian had known this and planned it out like that—close to work but outside his family’s main stomping grounds.
It still blew her mind that so much criminal activity went down in one of the most prestigious neighborhoods in Boston, but she shouldn’t be surprised. The Romanovs rubbed elbows with thugs and politicians alike. There was no reason the O’Malleys wouldn’t do the same.
Stop it. Stop comparing them. They aren’t the same.
Weren’t they? There was only one way to tell for sure, and she wasn’t ready to throw herself back into that life on the off chance that she might be wrong.
She shoved her hair back. And if she waffled any more, she was going to have to douse herself in syrup and serve herself on a plate for Sunday breakfast.
This wasn’t like Olivia. She usually knew what she wanted and she went for it. She didn’t change her mind as the wind blew. What the hell was Cillian doing to her?
She paid the driver and stepped out onto the street. There was an eclectic mix of people moving on the sidewalks, their clothing anywhere from hers to the after-work special to hipster to half a dozen other things. She’d fit right in.
He thought about this, too, sherealized. He picked a place where they’d both feel comfortable. The thoughtfulness of the gesture beat back some of her uncertainty. She checked the sign hanging out on the wall and ducked through the door into the restaurant. Inside it was dim and relaxed and cozily intimate, the walls lined with deep booths and a scattering of table and chairs across the open floor. Mouthwatering smells came from the kitchen and the tables that had already been served their food.
“Olivia.”
She turned, a smile already slipping through her defenses when she saw Cillian. He wore yet another three-piece suit, this one in shades of dark gray with a lilac shirt. He looked perfectly put together and downright edible, and all she wanted to do was throw herself into his arms and then tow him to the nearest spot where they could be alone.Down, girl. “Hey.”
“I hope you’re hungry. This place has the best lobster rolls in town.”
“I’m starving.” And, suddenly, she was. She’d been too nervous to eat lunch today, and if anyone had asked, she would have been sure those same nerves would keep her from eating during the date itself. But as soon as he guided her to a table with a light touch at the small of her back, she inexplicably relaxed. Here, in his presence, it was harder to remember why this was such a bad idea. “How was your day?”
He pulled out her chair. “Tedious. The numbers are being difficult, which isn’t a challenge that I thought I was going to have to deal with when I took over the accounts.”
“Accounts.” She blinked. “You’re an accountant?” When she pictured accountants, she pictured tightly wound men in cheap suits who didn’t get enough sun.Cillian couldn’t be further from that image. “How…how did that even happen? You don’t seem the type.”
He grinned. “I’ll take that as a compliment.” He nodded as a harried waitress appeared with two glasses of water and disappeared just as quickly. “In my family, everyone has their place—their job. I’m the middle son of seven kids, so I had a bit more freedom than some of my siblings.”
“So you decided to be an…accountant.” Every time she said it, her disbelief deepened.
“If you prefer, you can call me the head of finances instead.” His grin widened. “I like numbers. I’m good at numbers. And there’s the added bonus that it puts me right in the middle of things without having to shoulder any of the responsibility that’s crushing my oldest brother.” Just like that, the grin faded. “Or at least, that was what I thought when I took on the job. Turns out, things are never that simple.”
“No, they wouldn’t be with your family.” She regretted the words almost as soon as they were out. What the hell was wrong with her that she had to keep poking at this particular issue? “I’m sorry. It’s none of my business.”
“It’s okay.” He motioned at her menu. “Why don’t you figure out what you want to eat and then we can skip straight to the hard stuff.”
