Page 12 of An Angel's Share
“Miss Rua or Miss Dubh, which one is it? Or is it both, Miss Roulette?”
He stops in front of me. Looks down on me, his eyes unfathomable. But I can feel his body radiating something. I’m just not sure what it is. For the first time in my life, I’m starting to understand the flight instinct. I’ve never run from anything, or anyone, ever. Never backed down. But I know I need to get away from him.
Or do I need to drop to my knees? Submit? Spill out all the truths?
I never took the goddamn pill. I was literally Miss Roulette. Let chance decide. It was one night. Out of all nights. Fate.
I feel I must have manifested him into my life. I wanted a baby, but no man. He fell into my lap, or actually vice versa. Such an amazing specimen of a man. His body honed to perfection. Tall at six feet two. Sculpted muscles, but not stacked. Lithe, graceful. Chest smooth and clear, which surprised me as he was so dark-haired. Abs that flowed like a river toward that V that turns smart girls dim. A trail of dark hair from his navel, tracing downwards, leading you toheaven, or to hell. Yours to choose. He was comfortable inhabiting either place.
But he was more than the cut torso, the obvious great body. Clearly highly intelligent, articulate, perceptive, and creative. The way he spoke about all sorts of things in that room, clearly showcasing his acumen.
Yet he was kind, considerate. Took care of me. Understood a woman, and not just in the sense of sex. It was more than that. It was an innate sense of what a woman needs. Well, certainly this one.
It was not a hard leap for me with my circumstances, my wants and desire for a child. When I was stood in front of the pharmacy the next day, I walked away. Red or black. You decide.
I go to move away from his hypnotic stare, but his hand whips out and holds my throat. His thumb lightly brushes over my thrumming pulse point.
“Why are you leaving? Surely we need to have a chat. Maybe you need to get a few things off your chest. Maybe you need to let me know how Miss Roulette ended up with a precious chip in her tummy.” He grins at his own joke.
“It isn’t yours.” I try to keep my voice positive. I can’t afford to give anything away. “I was sort of seeing Liam in New York and this happened a few weeks or so later. I took the morning after pill as agreed.” I look straight into his eyes as I say this. But I can’t hold his stare, and I look down immediately after feeding him so many lies.Shit.So much for not giving anything away. “This baby is not yours. I’m marrying Liam, and, as you can see, I’m very happy.”
I end my brazen fabrication with a confident flourish, but I’m judging myself for my ridiculous deception. How can I stand here and bare face lie? But this baby is more important than anything or anybody.
I’m shocked when he starts to laugh. Throws back his head and guffaws. I even start to smile along with him. Until he speaks.
“You’re a shit liar. Even my brother Jude is better than you, and he’s the worst liar in England. Now, had you been as good as my sister, we might have had an issue. But you’re not, so why don’t you start by telling me the truth, and then I can tell you what you’re going to do.” His voice is conversational, like he’s ordering a drink at a bar.
My brain goes offline, lulled into his charm, before flickering back on again at his last sentence. Did he just state—? He did. The nerve of this guy.
I go on the attack. “You’re going to tell me what to do? I don’t think so.” My hackles are up now. “I’m a grown woman, and I can make my own decisions.” I point to myself, full of self-importance. He looks amused, making me more annoyed. “You arenotgoing to tell me what to do based on one night of fucking, no matter how good it was,” I storm.
He smirks. Fucking smirks. “It really was, wasn't it? Best night of your life, anyway. And believe me, baby”—he points to himself, mimicking me—“you are going to do as I say. Shall I give you a few reasons to stew over?”
He lifts his hands, his fingers long and graceful. My tongue is hanging out when he starts to waggle them. Jesus woman, get a grip on yourself. He’s trying to take over your life, not seduce you. I tune back into his voice, which does not help my hormones.
“One: I’ll announce my claim on that baby at the board meeting in a week’s time.”
He pauses, allowing that scene to play through my mind. Him standing there in that stunning black suit. Dropping to his knees whilst he cups my stomach.Slapping a post it note on my tummy:Property of Jonno Greystone.
I blink as he says, “Two: I’m sure your family wouldlurveto know all about the Runners and Riders evening.”
I gasp out at his audacity. He wouldn’t. Not that I’m ashamed of it, but it’s still not a discussion I would want to have in front of my daddy. Oh God, and my mammy. She’d die of embarrassment.
He’s still talking. “Three: How it works, what people do to each other there.” He’s grinning like the devil has won the hand. “Won’t be an eye-opener I’m sure for Patrick and his cronies. The fact thatyouknow about it first-hand, however, might be.”
“You’re blackmailing me,” I hiss out incredulously.
He raises his shoulders in awhat can I docheeky gesture. “I wouldn’t go that far.” He’s grinning like a cat that has got the cream.
He blows out a breath and shakes his head, tutting at me as if I’ve offended him. His dark brown hair falls a little onto his face, and I have to resist moving it so I can see him better. He moves his head to the side and looks at me through his lashes. He’s so angelic, you wouldn’t know the devil is lurking right behind that face. I know I can’t be the first person who’s fallen into that trap.
“Not blackmail. The truth. Why don’t we start by being honest. It will be easier for us all in the long run.”
He moves his hand down from my throat, keeping the constant contact on my skin. His long, beautiful fingers brush my chest on their journey downwards, his thumb honing in to sweep across my nipple. I practically jump as I hiss out a breath. Jesus, it feels so good.
The smile that appears on his face takes my breath away. Running the thumb backwards and forwards over the fabricof my inadequate top, around and around, he watches it. Then moves to the other side.
I stand there and allow him to do it. In fact I’m practically pushing my tits into his hands.
