Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 76953 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76953 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Somehow, though, I never felt a stirring of interest. Not even before Perish.
“Gracie,” he greeted me.
“Hey, Cian. Sorry about all this,” I said, waving toward the men all flanking me.
“Shit happens,” he said, shrugging. “That’s the life.” Then, to my uncle, “Had my men scope out the area when we first got here. But feel free to do your own sweep before it gets too crazy.”
“Fallon appreciated your cooperation on this,” Uncle Pagan said as Cian’s gaze fell on Cain.
“I don’t know you.”
“This is Cain,” I introduced. “He’s a prospect.”
“A prospect protecting a princess. You’re either a psychopath like these fucks,” he said, gesturing toward Dezi and my uncle, “or skilled like this one,” he finished, glancing at Sully.
“Can’t I be both?” Cain asked, getting a raised brow from Cian.
“Dez, stay out here with Gracie while we sweep the building.”
With that, the other three headed inside.
“I know it seems like overkill,” I said to Cian, my tone apologetic.
“No,” he said, shaking his head. “If you were my girl, I’d have a fucking human shield perimeter around this place.”
“Thanks for understanding. Okay. So, to the task at hand.”
“That’s impressive.”
“What is?”
“How you shift from unsure princess to boss bitch. Kinda hot.”
“I, uh, thanks. So, do you have any worries about the party?”
“Mostly just running out of liquor.”
“I really don’t think it would be humanly possible for this amount of people,” I said, looking at the guest list, “to drink that truckload of alcohol. What?” I asked when he shot me a devilish little smirk.
“Haven’t spent much time with Irish men, huh?”
“We could have another delivery if you’re really worried.”
“Nah. We’re good. The caterers showed up a few minutes ago too. So everything is going smoothly. You probably didn’t even need to come out, if you got shit going on.”
“Well, technically, I don’t. But… trouble kind of circles everyone sometimes.”
“Yeah, I know a thing or two about that. Once you get shit set up, though, you can head out. Don’t need to come to me about it. Once the drinks are flowing, no one is gonna notice anything else about the party.”
That was fair, even if a small part of me didn’t like the idea of people being so drunk that they didn’t notice my hard work.
“Okay. Noted.”
“Goose, you’re good,” my uncle called from the doorway of the cabin.
“Goose?” Cian asked, smile wicked.
I chose not to say anything to that and made my way inside the venue.
The inside was one sprawling space to accommodate any kind of party, but the giant fireplace (gas, I checked, since fire and drunk people did not mix) and the warm wood tones made it feel really cozy.
This party was set up in a mix of stations. A lounge area, a buffet station and tables, and then a pool and poker section.
Everything about the party screamed ‘dude hangout,’ and there wasn’t a single woman around except for myself.
To be fair, that was my doing.
When I saw the guest list, I’d made the executive decision to hire an all-male catering staff.
I wanted to believe that all men were as good and moral as the club was. But I wasn’t willing to risk some other woman’s safety on my hopes and dreams.
In the real world, a large crowd of drunk men could be incredibly dangerous. So I removed that possible threat. Without consulting Cian. But I figured by the time he noticed, the party would be half over.
I spent the next half hour moving through the venue, checking things off my list on my clipboard, talking to staff, and making sure everything was just right.
Then the crowds started making their way in.
So many men that there was no way this was just Cian’s crew, making me wonder if this was some sort of multi-state Irish mafia meet-up or something.
The thought had my stomach tensing, knowing how even supposedly peaceful meetings between crews could end in violence. But once the food came out and everyone started drinking, the tension that had initially been in the air drifted away and got replaced with a light, fun atmosphere.
Men’s laughter filled the air.
Pool balls smacked together.
Poker chips clicked as they fell into the piles on the table.
Music thumped.
It was all just very… civil. Fun. Light.
I noticed one of the serving dishes was empty before the catering staff did, so I put down my clipboard and brought the dish into the kitchen to be filled.
Figuring I had two minutes, I made my way toward the staff bathroom to freshen up.
I was making my way out, passing the side exit of the building when it happened.
The door flew open.
I whipped around.
I saw the catering outfit first: the black on black top and pants with the black apron.
Nothing to be worried about.
Until my gaze tracked up and up.
I saw the scar first.
The crooked nose.
Then the whole face I’d stared at for hours while helping the sketch artist draw it up.