Chapter 13 Thirteen
Kian.
I sighed, rubbing the bridge of my nose.
“Yeah.” I stood, glancing down at Fianna. She was mid-sip on a fresh drink the server had snuck in. When did that happen? Her eyes were already glazing over.
“Stay put,” I muttered to her.
She waved me off with a sloppy grin. “Go play gangster.”
Finn led me to a quiet corner near the bar, away from prying ears. He crossed his arms, his tattooed forearms flexing. “Work is piling up upstairs. Deals waiting, calls to make. And you are down here babysitting?”
“I can’t leave her by herself,” I said, keeping my tone flat. “Not here.”
Finn’s jaw ticked. “That woman’s strong enough to handle herself. Always has been. Why drag her into this?”
Irritation flared hot in my gut. “You are stretching this whole Fianna thing, Finn. Let it go. We’ve got bigger shit to focus on like the shipment tomorrow.”
He gritted his teeth, his eyes hardening. “Fine. I will be upstairs when you need me.” He turned on his heel and stalked off, leaving me standing there, the music pounding in my temples.
How the hell was I supposed to deal with all this? On one hand, Fianna was turning my life into a goddamn circus. On the other hand, people around me didn’t like her. But, now she was tied to me, whether I liked it or not.
I strolled back to the booth, weaving through the crowd. The minute I met Fianna’s eyes, I knew she was drunk as fuck. Her cheeks were flushed, her posture slouched in that carefree way that screamed trouble.
I cleared my throat, leaning over her, one hand on the back of the booth. “We should head upstairs to my office.”
She scrunched her nose, looking up at me with those glassy eyes. Fuck. Her plump, juicy lips parted slightly, like an invitation I hadn’t asked for. I froze for a second, my mind blanking, and….shit, my cock twitched in my pants.
Get a grip.
“I hate you,” she blurted, the words slurring just a touch.
I raised my brows, forcing a nod. “Yeah, I know you hate me. But you are drunk now. Let’s go to the office. Sober up.”
She stared at me, unblinking, then lifted her hand slowly. My heart raced like a stupid fool, thudding hard against my ribs.
Her fingers cupped my face, warm and soft, tracing the line of my jaw. “You’ve gotten really more handsome,” she murmured, her thumb brushing my stubble.
Breathing fast now, I grabbed her wrist gently but firmly, removing her hand. “Don’t.”
She pouted, her full lips pushing out. “You are such a mean fool.”
“Stand up,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady.
She shrugged, swaying a bit. “Stop speaking to me that way.”
I raised my brows again. “How am I speaking to you?”
“You are shouting,” she slurred.
I almost chuckled but nothing about this was funny. “I’m not shouting.”
Before she could argue more, I bent down and scooped her up in one swift motion, her body light and warm against mine. She gasped out loud, a sharp intake of breath, and her lips brushed my bare neck, accidental, but it sent a jolt straight through me.
I groaned low, as I carried her toward the private stairs. Her arms looped around my shoulders loosely, her head lolling against my chest. I kicked open the office door, and placed her gently on the leather couch.
“Póg mo thóin,” she whined, cursing in Irish as she flopped back, her hair fanning out. (Kiss my ass.)
She cursed again, louder this time. “Tá tú ina amadán mór,” she spat, glaring daggers. (You’re a big idiot.)
“Keep it coming,” I muttered, heading to the mini-fridge. I poured a glass of water, cool and clear, and walked back, stretching it out to her. “Drink this.”
She glared harder, her eyes narrowing to slits, and smacked the glass away from my hand. Water splashed everywhere, across the floor, soaking into the rug.
I gritted my teeth, my jaw aching from the tension. “Fine.” I turned, grabbed another bottle from the desk, plastic this time,and leaned over her again.
She protested, mumbling something, but I gently pried her mouth open with my fingers and tilted the bottle, pouring the water in slow, careful streams. She swallowed, sputtering a bit, but most of it went down.
When the bottle was half-empty, I pulled back, capping it without a word. She coughed, wiping her mouth, but the fight seemed to drain out of her. I left her there, sinking into my desk chair, the weight of the night settling over me like fog.
Papers waited together with reports, and ledgers, the real work I had ignored for her.
But as I stared at the screen, my mind kept drifting back to her on the couch, breathing steady now, her eyes fluttering closed.
What the hell was I doing? This woman was a complication I didn’t need. But here I was, playing guardian, feeling things I had no business feeling. I rubbed my face, exhaling slowly. The night was far from over.