Sean had already swung open the door to the next pub and entered on his own, ahead of everyone else.
Damn it. I seriously messed up.
“No,” I told her. “I screwed up, is all,” I added before we went inside. The real rule for this pub was no talking to anyone you knew. So, we grabbed our pints and scattered about.
A band played traditional Irish folk music, so I pinned my back to one of the columns in the small space and watched them perform. I was anxious to get on to the next place. But maybe it was better I couldn’t talk to Sean right now. Or to anyone in our group. What would I possibly say?
“Hi, love.” I didn’t bother to look at the man at my side, attempting to gain my attention. My focus was solely on the woman who was striking up a conversation with Sean by the bar.
“Back off if you don’t want to drink your beer through your nose,” I told the man whose breath was too close to my face as I studied the gorgeous woman with Sean.
I had to get used to this sight. Get used to him moving on. It was bound to happen. Destined to, I supposed. But it didn’t change the fact that it felt like my heart was breaking.
Sean casually scanned the crowd, seemingly disinterested in whatever she was saying. When he made eye contact with me, there was such a hollow, empty look in his blue eyes that I wanted to drop to my knees and beg him to forgive me. Forgive my walls. My fears. Even the rules and promises that kept us apart.
But I remained frozen in place and all alone, as usual. His focus left the woman, and I followed his gaze to find Sebastian attempting to peel a blonde’s hands off his arms.
What on earth? Oh shit, she was trying to kiss him. The fake rule.
Sebastian was carefully trying to rid himself of the clingy woman without accidentally harming her.
Sean was on his way for an assist, but he stopped when Holly beat him to it.
I found myself moving through the crowd to get to them in case extra help was needed since the blonde was drunk and out of her mind.
“You need to get your hands off my husband,” I overheard Holly tell the woman.
The blonde faced Holly and lifted her hand as if she might strike Holly, but Holly shifted to the side and clocked the girl across the jaw.
Well, that was unexpected.
“Oh man,” someone yelled, and I realized we were two seconds away from a wild bar fight breaking out, and with our names and faces, we’d wind up on the cover of a tabloid for sure.
Sebastian snatched hold of Holly’s hand and hurried her to the street before the bartender called the police.
I exited the pub, deciding maybe this night ought to be over, but stopped short at the sight of Holly with her back pinned to the side of the building and Sebastian kissing the hell out of her. Watching his woman fight for him had clearly turned him on.
They were oblivious to everyone around them, and I decided this would be a good time to make my escape.
“I’ll walk you back to the hotel.” I turned around to see Sean striding behind me.
Maybe he hadn’t heard what I said to Sebastian after all? But no, the look in his eyes was one of betrayal.
He’d known what he was getting into with me, though. And yet, I also knew he was falling. Falling hard. Holly saw it happening, too.
And I’d done nothing to stop it. So no, I couldn’t dodge blame. This was my doing.
“That’s up to you,” I said softly before continuing to walk.
I took the long route back to the hotel, deciding I wasn’t ready for whatever conversation surely would happen once we arrived.
He kept silent the whole time, as did I.
Thirty minutes later, I opened the door to my suite, but Sean stayed in the hall. One hand on the doorframe, indecision in his eyes. As if he were in the midst of an internal battle . . . follow his dick or listen to his heart.
A heart I’d just broken into a million pieces from the looks of it.
“See you tomorrow.” He frowned, his blue eyes combing over me. The indecision was still there. Clear as day. He wanted to keep up the charade. The illusion of Sean and Emilia behind closed doors. Avoid reality. But he was also hurt. I hurt him. So, he would leave. Shove off the door and turn away.
“You still want me to come to Christmas Eve dinner?”
“Of course,” he said in a deep but low tone. “Goodnight, Calibrisi.”
Calibrisi? Shit. That hurt. I clutched my chest, each step he took away from me a crushing blow. “Wait.” I joined him in the hall, unable to watch him leave like this. “Please,” I whispered.
“What is it?” He slowly turned, giving me only his profile.
“You don’t have to go.”
“I think I do.” His chest rose and fell with slow, deep breaths.
“About what you heard, I didn’t mean . . .” I closed my eyes. “I’m sorry.”
“You don’t need to apologize. You were always upfront with me,” he returned, being far more kind than I deserved.
I opened my eyes to see him stepping into the lift. A hand balled at his side, the other diving through his hair. His back ramrod straight.
“I’m sorry,” I repeated, my words strained, the guilt refusing to let go of my vocal cords. He lifted a hand and pressed the button for the lobby. “Don’t leave. Stay.”
His gaze slowly traveled up to my face. A hard clench of his jaw as he worked to contain whatever emotions were vying to get free. “I would,” he said with a slight nod as the doors began to close, “but what’s the point?”
Once the doors had closed, I dropped to my knees. I felt as though all the air had been sucked from my lungs—like I was truly drowning. I couldn’t breathe. And an all-consuming pain I had no idea how to handle gathered like a storm inside me.
And then the tears fell. Tears of a coward. A liar.
The ugly tears streamed down my face like an unstoppable force. I raised my fist and pounded on the lift doors, then walked my hands up the shiny surface, trying to get back to my feet. But my knees buckled as another deep, ugly sob worked loose, and I caught sight of my distorted reflection in the shiny, gold doors. “What the hell is wrong with me?”
Chapter Twenty
Sean
I swapped the ridiculous snowman jumper for a black long-sleeved shirt from the overnight bag in my Maserati, then put on my knee-length coat. I’d been planning to spend the night with Emilia, but that had abruptly changed, and I was in no condition to drive. My flat wasn’t too far, so I’d be walking.
The valet who’d brought my car around looked a bit taken aback when I peeled off my jumper right then and there. Honestly, I couldn’t have cared less.
I shut the door to the vehicle and returned the keys to the valet. “I’ll be back for it in the morning.”
“Where are you going?” Sara. Exactly what I didn’t need. And where was Ethan? “Something wrong with you and Emilia?”
What the feck? “I’m not in the best mood, Sara. If I were you, I’d head upstairs to the suite you’re sharing with my brother,” I warned as I turned away from the hotel, not bothering to button up my coat.
Sara had changed as well, and her white peacoat hung open to show a red wrap dress beneath. Was she going clubbing without my brother? “Wait up.” Her heels clicked on the path as she attempted to keep up with me.
“Go back to Ethan,” I hissed. She didn’t deserve my anger, but I had the distinct feeling she was going to feck over my brother soon enough. I’d hate to see him brokenhearted, too. I was in a foul mood, and if she pushed me, I’d snap and question her loyalties. And the last thing I wanted to do was clue her in on our suspicions about her.
“Sean, please.” She grabbed my arm, and I whirled around on the footpath like a rabid dog. “Ethan is . . . well, he’s not you. I thought I could do this, but . . .”
Do what? Date my brother as a substitute for me or use him to betray us all?
I leaned in closer to her and gritted out, “What in the bloody hell is that supposed to
mean?”
When her lips abruptly crushed against mine, I blinked in shock, snatched hold of her arms, and ripped her away from me. “What the hell, Sara?”
“I-I can’t stop thinking about you.” She attempted to get closer, but I held her firmly and kept her at arm’s length. “I think fate brought you back into my life.”
She called it fate. I called it Luca. The Alliance.
“You need to end things with Ethan, and now. Stay away from my family. And don’t think for one fecking second you ever have the right to kiss me.” I let go of her and tried to walk away, but the woman was relentless.
I almost laughed at the irony—the woman I wanted had pushed me away, and the woman I had no interest in was falling at my feet.
Emilia had been upfront and honest with me from the start. I’d known the truth but hearing her declare that truth so profoundly to Sebastian earlier had hurt so much I couldn’t begin to put it into words. In her mind, she was incapable of loving me. I’d been such a fool.
“Wait, don’t tell Ethan, please.” There was a tremble to her voice, but for all I knew, she was acting.
I stopped walking and faced her. “I’m not. You’re going to tell him it’s over.”
She chewed on her lip, batting her eyelashes and stroking the belt of her coat as though certain I’d change my mind in a few minutes. Not gonna happen. Her plan had gone to hell, whatever it may have been.
“I’m drunk. I didn’t mean to kiss you or say those things. I got confused.” She tried to bring her hand to my chest, but I grabbed her wrist before she got the chance. I dropped it quickly and pinned her with a glare that warned her not to try it again. Thankfully, she seemed to understand my silent command. “Ethan was flirting with someone, and I got pissed because I-I am in love with him. I went to the hotel to change to go out dancing on my own to make him jealous. I saw you and . . .”
Damn it, Ethan. He was smashed at the last pub, and I could see him doing just that. Not because he wasn’t committed to Sara, which right now had me seriously questioning his judgment, but because he was a natural flirt, a player. Learned his habits from me. But chances are, he didn’t have a clue what the feck he was doing. And regardless, it shouldn’t have driven his girlfriend to kiss me. I didn’t trust her, not after learning she’d met with Luca, and I knew there was something she was leaving out.
“Goodnight, Sara. And don’t follow me again.” I didn’t bother to look back.
I slowed down at the sight of Sebastian and Alessia’s nightclub. Had he and Holly ended up here after my sister surprised the hell out of all of us by punching that woman who was trying to kiss her husband? Even if they were here, did I want to face my family again tonight?
Feck it. I didn’t feel like being alone the night before Christmas Eve. I went into the club, said hello to the staff on duty, and went in search of my sister. The bouncer outside had said Sebastian was there, as well as Cole and Alessia. My guess was that Adam and Anna had gone home.
I swung open the door to Sebastian’s office and stopped dead in my tracks. Then cursed, quickly turned my back to the room and mumbled, “Maybe lock the door next time?”
Holly’s back had been to me, and thank God for that since she was topless, as she sat astride Sebastian in his desk chair. But it was the moaning that did me in. I did not need to hear that from my little sister, and it would require something strong to rid it from my memory.
Since neither had acknowledged my presence, too wrapped up in each other, I quickly and quietly shut the door and cringed as I left the hall and went back into the club.
“Oh shite, you weren’t just back there, were you?” Cole stepped in front of me as I exited the back hallway.
I grimaced. “Yup. Where were you to warn me to not go in?”
Cole motioned to the dance floor and slapped a hand on my back. “Sorry, you slipped past me. Alessia and I were dancing.”
Cole had also changed. Must have had spare clothes at the club. We’d all been itching to get out of those festive jumpers, so it seemed.
“I need something strong to unsee my sister like that.” I covered a hand over my eyes once we reached the bar top.
“Ohh, you didn’t warn him?” I lowered my hand at the sound of Alessia’s voice to find her rounding the bar.
“He blew past us while we were dancing.” Cole sat next to me as Alessia whipped us all up some drinks.
“Where’s Emilia?” Alessia looked around the club while pouring some sort of new concoction she’d probably dreamed up into three glasses.
“Tired and at the hotel,” I quickly answered. “But I saw Sara on my way here, and she was acting strange.”
“Ah, well, some girl Ethan used to sleep with started talking to him at the last pub we were at while Sebastian was nearly getting kissed, and Ethan being Ethan—”
“Got it,” I cut off Cole. “I’d thought Ethan had changed, but maybe I was wrong.”
“He has some growing up to do,” Cole said with a nod. “He’ll get there.”
Hopefully. Of course, maybe “there” wasn’t such a great place to be. I was “there,” and it felt shitty.
“Not that I feel bad for that woman since she’s most likely using Ethan to get to us,” Cole added. “Hopefully, that friend of Emilia’s finds something soon to confirm our suspicions about Sara.”
“Is that her sexy Navy SEAL friend?” Alessia playfully waggled her brows a few times, and I was certain she was purposely trying to get a rise out of her husband.
“Who said he’s sexy? You didn’t meet him,” Cole growled out, playing into her hands.
“I don’t know. A rough and tough SEAL. Sounds hot.” Alessia was tipsy and clearly jonesing for some make-up sex from the looks of it. And I’d bet that was what was happening between Holly and Sebastian, given all the tension between them this week.
“Still can’t believe Holly punched someone tonight,” I said, trying to distract Cole from Alessia’s teasing. “And Ma was worried it’d be Sebastian doing the fighting.”
“Right?” Alessia grinned, then handed us our drinks. “I call it, ‘Christmas Surprise.’”
I eyed the red and green drink with suspicion, sniffed it, then took a sip. I had no clue what was in it, but it was pretty good. A bit sugary for me, but as long as there was alcohol in it, I was happy.
“I think I need a moment with my wife.” Cole cleared his throat and stood. “Excuse us.”
Alessia circled the bar, and he took her hand and led her upstairs. Most likely to one of the soundproof private rooms we’d been in on Tuesday night, feeling the need to put some Irish in his American wife.
Maybe coming to the club had been a bad idea. I was surrounded by family members getting laid. Enjoying life. Loving each other. That was how this week was supposed to go. I wasn’t supposed to be sitting at a bar alone.
So what if Emilia couldn’t love me? I’d always known that.
And before I knew it, I was on my feet.
Heading back to the hotel.
It wasn’t long before I was standing in her hallway, breathlessly pounding on the suite door.
Emilia opened up a minute later, her hair wet and lying like dark silk against her white robe. Her face was once again void of makeup, and she was stunning.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, a worried expression on her face as I sidestepped her to get inside without an invitation.
The door shut behind us, and I whirled to face her. God, she looked so sad and vulnerable. I wanted to make all the bad stuff disappear—The Alliance, Luca, her guilt about Chanel. But I wasn’t a miracle worker, and she wouldn’t have accepted it anyway. Instead, I framed her face between my palms. “Sex,” I murmured darkly. I didn’t know what in the hell I was doing, but feck it. I’d take whatever she was willing to give me. Screw my feelings.
I set my mouth to hers and kissed her hard. I hated that my kiss was laced with desperation, but I felt her begin to wilt. To melt right into my arms.
I swiped my tongue over her lips before pushing into her mouth.
She clung to me. Kissed me back as fiercely as I kissed her.
Was I there to have make-up sex for a fight that never really happened between us, hoping it’d heal the friction? Bandage the wounds between us? Maybe. But my efforts would most likely be temporary because I knew she couldn’t love me.
“Sean,” she whispered between frenzied kisses. My hands moved over her body, and I untied the belt of her robe.
“No talking. No feelings. Just fucking,” I ordered, taking her face in my palms once again to look into her eyes. “Can you do that?” One night with her would be better than a lifetime of being with anyone else.
“I can’t.” She pulled out of my arms, knotted her belt, and crossed the room to stand next to the Christmas tree.
“Why the hell not? This is what you’ve wanted the entire time,” I roared, frustration curling around my words.
“Because I do have feelings for you,” she cried, her shoulders drooping. “I-I have feelings for you, Sean,” she repeated, this time softer.
She afforded me the chance to look into her eyes again, and the sight of tears slowly spilling down her cheeks had me stalking toward her with hurried steps.
This strong woman was coming undone. I tried to hold her, but she found the fight inside her again. She resisted and struggled, tried to shove me out of the way. And when that didn’t work, her open hands turned to fists, and she gently struck my chest, more tears crashing down like a broken dam, a decade’s worth or more of pent-up emotions flooding out.
I would let her hit me if it helped, but I wouldn’t let her go. I held on to her arms as her shoulders slumped ever so slightly. “Stop fighting me,” I said softly. “Let me hold you.” Let me in.
“I thought I was done crying.” Her voice was still not quite right. Pained. “I’m not supposed to cry.”
Had she been crying since I left? Damn.
When she stopped striking me, I pulled her tight to my chest and set my chin on top of her head. My body relaxed once she fit perfectly into my arms. “It’s okay to cry.” I cupped the back of her head with one hand and held on to her waist with my other.
The Final Hour (Dublin Nights Book 5) Page 23
