Page 2 of Resisting Rory

“Oh, what is it?”

“A restaurant in Piccadilly. It’s got a Mediterranean theme right now, but I want to turn it into an Irish pub, something with a very traditional vibe.”

That could be a lot of fun, but I still wish I could turn him down. A believable excuse for why I can’t take on the project doesn’t spring to mind, so I nod.

“Okay, so what’s the timeframe?”

Andrew lifts a shoulder in an indolent shrug. “I want to be up and running as soon as possible, but you’ll need to look the place over and let me know how long you think it’ll take.”

“I’ll get onto it as soon as I can.”

“Good.”

Andrew hands Libby a glass of champagne and slides another across the table to me. He raises his own glass and Libby and I both mirror him.

“To another successfully completed project,” he says, gesturing around the packed club, “and many more to come.”

Inwardly shuddering at that thought, I clink my glass against each of theirs, then take a sip of the cool, crisp champagne. Andrew gets to his feet.

“I’ll leave you ladies to catch up.”

He walks off to greet his brothers at the bar. They’ve now been joined by their sister-in-law, Sorcha. The only one missing is Jacob, the nicest of the bunch from what I’ve seen.

I can’t help feeling sorry for Sorcha as I watch her standing there with those men. It’s not just because she was widowed so young. Since her husband, Ciaran, the former head of the family, died, she’s had his four over-protective siblings watching everything she does.

Being under Andrew’s scrutiny at work, or Rory’s on the rare occasion we’re in the same place, annoys me. I can’t imagine what it’s like to be stuck in a gilded cage like Sorcha, or Libby, for that matter.

“It’s Andrew’s birthday next week,” Libby says. “We’re having a small dinner party, just family and friends.”

I hope she’s not about to invite me. Being involved with the family professionally is bad enough. I don’t want to get entangled in their personal lives, no matter how much I like Libby.

“Do you want me to make the cake?” I ask.

I somehow ended up making their wedding cake since they got married at short notice, so fingers crossed that’s what she was going to ask.

“No, that’s taken care of.” She puts her glass down on the table and leans forward. “I want you to come to the dinner.”

“Oh, uhm, I don’t know. I’m really busy.”

Libby’s face falls. “You can spare one night, surely?”

“I don’t know. Like I said, I have a lot on.”

“Yeah, I appreciate that. It’s just, well, I don’t have a lot of friends apart from you. Most people turned their backs pretty quick after my mum died.”

Her mother was shot dead in the street by mobsters looking for her father. I don’t know the whole story, but I believe Edward Preston got into trouble with the Russian Mafia and they killed his wife to teach him a lesson. The people who once clamored to be Libby’s friend shunned her in the wake of the scandal.

“I know, and I’d love to come and spend celebrate Andrew’s birthday with you. It’s just…”

“Rory?” Libby guesses. “Has he done something?”

I shake my head because, in fact, he hasn’t really done anything. He’s let me know he wants to fuck me and he watches me intently, but he’s not tried to pressure me in any way.

“No, but I find him a little intense.”

Libby laughs. “He can be, but once he’s had a couple of glasses of wine and some birthday cake, he’ll be a pussycat.”

I don’t bother pointing out that unless she plans to serve the cake first, that’s not going to help me get through dinner with him.

---