Chapter 14

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Orla

I t was worse than I had expected.

The night had begun on a promising note, and I'd been positively cheerful when we'd entered the large ballroom, certain that I was well equipped for the night ahead. I'd done some research on what to expect at a gala and had spent some time memorizing which fork to use at dinner.

What I hadn't known was the charity the gala was for.

I could have kicked myself.

How could I have spent all this time preparing for a charity gala and yet never asked what the charity was for?

To help end child hunger in Scotland.

Of all things.

Photos in stark black and white were blown up and plastered around the ballroom of children just like I'd been. Hungry. Scared. Angry .

They need you . The signs proclaimed. Yet they had it all wrong. We didn't need rich people to pity us. We needed a better system in place to support those of us who were forgotten by our families, the government, and our schools. The government cast a wide net, trying to help where they could, but still many slipped through the cracks.

Like me.

"Mother."

I turned, swallowing my nerves and pressing my lips together as a woman in a dove-gray gown and pearls glided to Finlay's side. Clutching his arm, she tilted her cheek for a kiss all while her eyes flicked over me from head to toe.

I'd been assessed, quickly, and now the questions would begin. Street instincts told me I was up against a powerful force, and the way Finlay's entire stance and energy had changed when his mother had drawn close told me a lot about him. I tightened the shawl I'd been given with the dress around my shoulders, a chill dancing across my skin.

"Finlay. Don't you just look so very handsome? You take after your father you know." Finlay's mother beamed up at him, but I noticed the lines around Finlay's mouth tighten at the mention of his father.

"So you've told me. I'm sure he would have loved this event."

"He did love a good party, didn't he?" Finlay's mother sighed and patted a hand to her chest before finally addressing me. "We lost Finlay's father a few years back and still miss him dearly."

"I'm sorry for your loss," I said automatically, picking up on some sort of tension that bounced between the two. Was it grief? Or something else ?

"Yes, well, we must carry on, mustn't we?"

"Mum, this is Orla Clarke. Orla, my mother, Sharon Thompson."

"Lovely to meet you, Mrs. Thompson." I nodded my head, even though a part of me wondered if I should curtsy. But she wasn't the queen, was she? There was no need to curtsy.

"And you as well, Ms. Clarke. And how did you two meet?" The way she asked it seemed to suggest the answer would determine if she liked me or not.

"Orla is a business colleague of mine, Mum."

"Is that right? You're a businesswoman, are you?" Sharon's eyes sharpened in a way that I didn't like, and I opened my mouth to lie, but I caught a glimpse of green over Sharon's shoulder.

The Green Lady. She was here, gliding through the ballroom, leaving a trail of people glancing around as a draft of cold air drifted past them. Most never saw her, but many could feel her presence. She stopped behind Sharon, lifting her chin and crossing her arms across her chest, meeting my eyes. A proud stance.

Don't hide yourself from anyone, Orla. You've worked hard for what you've accomplished.

"I am." I tore my eyes away from the Green Lady and smiled widely at Sharon. "I'm also a builder. I run my own construction firm, Clarke Construction, and we're working on the buildout for Common Gin's new distillery in Loren Brae."

Sharon recoiled, ever so slightly, but enough that I caught it. Something flickered behind her eyes, and I knew I'd been instantly judged and dismissed.

The Sharon s of this world and I did not mix. It was the first thought I'd had of Finlay, aside from noting how gorgeous he was, and now I understood why I'd had it. Even if he wasn't anything like his mother, he still came from her, didn't he?

That wasn't fair, I reminded myself. We couldn't judge others on the sins of their parents. Otherwise I wouldn't have much to say for myself, would I?

"A builder. How…charming." Sharon sniffed, lifting her chin and looking over my shoulder, a smile blooming. "I'm going to have to excuse myself here shortly. Duty calls and the Stuarts just came in."

"Of course, Mum. We know how busy you are." Finlay took a step back, turning and nodding at a well-dressed couple approaching.

"Orla…I can't put my finger on it. You look so familiar. Did you replace our toilet in the downstairs bathroom?" Sharon said this a touch louder than one normally would as the couple came to a stop next to us. Interest bloomed on the woman's face as she looked me up and down.

"No, Mum. She wouldn't have replaced your toilet. She's not a plumber. Orla does complicated high-level remodels for top businesses in the industry," Finlay inserted, his arm coming lightly to my back. I allowed the touch, mainly because he was putting his mother in her place, and I smiled up at him, knowing it would annoy Sharon.

"Of course, I'm not sure where I've seen you before then." Sharon turned, dismissing me, and held her hands out to the couple. "Darlings! So delighted you could make it. "

"Let's refresh your drink." Finlay tugged me away before we got swept into another conversation, even though my drink was still full.

" She's lovely." I took a sip of my champagne, scanning the opulent ballroom, while forcing myself to keep my composure. It didn't matter what anyone in this world thought of me. These weren't my people.

I was just the help.

It was true, too, even if they paid highly for my services. At the end of the day, I was still just a builder completing a project for them and they'd never think twice about me again. I wouldn't be rubbing shoulders with them at the club over the weekend or laughing with the wives while our husbands took a round of golf.

I barely had time to do my crochet projects and listen to my podcasts, both of which I dearly wished I could be doing at the moment.

"She's a difficult woman who has become even more so after my father died in the arms of his mistress."

"Oh." I pressed my lips together again, lip liner be damned, and touched Finlay's arm. His expression was stony. "That's a tough blow."

"It was. I … I lost more than my dad that day. I hated that he hadn't been transparent with who he was as a person. It matters, you ken? And this image I'd had of him all along, well, it wasn't real. And it shattered my mum. She's much better at keeping up images. I guess transparency isn't as important to her as it is to me. And now with no money to speak of, well, I'm stuck keeping her in the life she was accustomed to."

"She doesn't work? "

"She won't work. I don't think she's ever tried."

"Must be nice." I blinked down at my glass, realizing I said that part out loud, and hastily put the glass on the bar. I would need to slow down on the alcohol if I was to get through this. I was a lightweight at best and I would need my wits about me to not shove my foot in my mouth repeatedly.

"For her, yes, I quite imagine it is." Finlay shot me a wicked grin, and I warmed. "For me it's annoying."

"Yet you take care of her."

Finlay sighed, tipping his glass to his lips, his eyes roaming around the room.

"She's still my mum and it was tough to see her hurting."

"That's fair." I squeezed his arm lightly before turning to the room. "Why don't you dazzle me with all the gossip and tell me who is who?"

"That, my beautiful lady, I can do." Finlay drew me to the side and we looked across the ballroom. Women wore everything from slinky, figure-hugging dresses, to gowns with wide skirts, discreet beaded fascinators tucked in their hair. They glided to and fro, greeting friends, colorful birds flitting around the room, an endless display of pomp and circumstance. The men, too, were equally as handsome, most wearing kilts, and the variety of patterns and colors made for a dashing group gathered in the ballroom.

"See over here? The man with the thinning hair and green tartan? Word is he'll only eat Monster Munch with tomato soup for dinner."

"Really? That is…well, quite shocking." I pretended to be scandalized as Finlay drew me closer to a table near the fr ont of the ballroom. A stage stood in front of it, with a podium and a large projection screen, and I assumed there would be a talk of sorts tonight.

"Orla! Should we sit?" Lia waved to me, standing by the table, and I realized then we'd been assigned seats.

"We'll all sit for a speech. Then dinner and then dancing," Finlay explained, as he wound me through the crowd, his hand a light touch at my back. I passed poster after poster of photographs of hungry children and my heart skipped a beat when I thought I saw one of Jacob. Pausing, I peered closer, but realized it wasn't him.

It might as well have been.

Every image looked exactly like I'd remembered it and it was a stark reminder that no matter how far you ran, the past still would slap you in the face when you least expected it.

"I'm starving," Lia hissed in my ear, grabbing my hand. "The food had better be good or I'm going to revolt."

"Might be fun to watch," I said, pulling my eyes away from a photo of a group of kids sitting on stairs outside a shelter. I know those steps.

"I wouldn't be above flipping a table or two," Lia assured me as we sat. "I get wildly hangry."

My eyes went to the poster again.

I remembered being " hangry " too. Hunger so raw it clawed your stomach until you felt yourself withering away as your energy sapped. Yeah, being hungry could make a body angry, that was for certain.

As soon as we sat at our table, surrounded by so much wealth and opulence, my stomach had churned. Couldn't they see how much they were spending on this gala? All of this could have been used to feed needy children, not stroke the egos of those who were out there rubbing elbows and making business deals. This felt…distasteful in a way that I couldn't rightly explain. I fell silent as Sharon strode to the podium and launched into a speech about the needs of hungry children in Scotland.

The entire contents of which was wildly off base.

Had she ever even spoken with a needy child in Scotland? Or gone to a soup kitchen? Fury licked through me, and I took a shaky sip of my wine, unsure how to react. Huge photographs of sad children projected behind her as she spoke, each image lingering for a while before it melded into the next.

"If only the children would be able to access the resources we have for them, we could better set them up for success."

I narrowed my eyes at Finlay's mum. Was she insinuating it was the child's fault for not eating the food provided? Had she even tried some of the meals offered? Depending on the place, I could tell you from experience, the meals weren't great.

But none of that mattered when you were starving. Food was food.

Sharon paused as the next image flashed on the screen and she turned, gesturing to it.

I froze.

It was a photo of me, taken without my consent likely, my T-shirt showcasing my ribs and boney arms, my ginger hair unmistakable. I leaned against a wall outside the soup kitchen, freezing cold likely, waiting for my cousins to finish eating. There was no mistaking who was in the photo, even if my body had since filled out and I was much healthier now.

A roaring filled my ears, my entire body flushing with heat, as Sharon turned back toward the microphone, her eyes zeroing in on me.

Lia whirled, her face wreathed in sympathy.

"Tonight, we're lucky enough to have a success story here in our very audience…" Sharon began.

I didn't wait to hear what she was going to say next.

I refused to be paraded around, particularly without my consent, as some success story of a charity I'd never even heard of. No one had ever turned their head to care for me. To offer me a soft bed, warm food, or shelter against the elements.

That, I had done for myself.

The hypocrisy in Finlay's mother's empathy was only fueling my disgust.

My pain.

Jumping up, I dodged Finlay's attempt to grab my arm and slipped to the side of the room, taking the first door I could find. Panic gripped me, sweat dripping down the back of my dress, and I hit the stairs at a dead run.

Thank God Willow had let us wear trainers or I would have fallen head over heels down the steps.

I heard my name, but didn't look back, couldn't think, couldn't breathe, and when the Green Lady appeared in front of me, taking my hand, I allowed her to lead me out.

Once again, saving me.

By the time I broke outside into the cool night air, dusk still lingering, I welcomed the cold. A light mist drifted, kissing my cheeks, and I gulped for air on the steps outside the hotel.

"Orla."

I couldn't turn, couldn't bring myself to look at the sympathy I knew I would see in Finlay's eyes.

"I'm fine, Finlay. I just needed some air."

What I needed was for him to leave. I didn't need to see the pitying look on his face that had been mirrored around the room that evening every time someone had looked at a photo of the children at the soup kitchens. Did anyone ever stop to think that maybe the children should be asked if they wanted their photos taken and put on display like that? Bile rose in my throat.

"I'd ask for my mother to apologize to you, but it will be hard for her to speak after I murder her."

My eyebrows winged up and I turned, certain that Finlay would have made an excuse for his mother's behavior. Instead it sounded like he was defending me. Confused, I tilted my head and searched his face.

Finlay glanced around at a few people who had stepped outside for a smoke and reached forward to touch my elbow lightly.

"Come with me?"

I nodded, understanding he was sheltering me from the curiosity I had likely created when I jumped up and ran from the ballroom. Finlay drew me around the side of the hotel, and to a set of steps that led to one of the many narrow closes that ran through Edinburgh's main streets. I loved Edinburgh for that reason, as each close was like a portal to another secret world and would often duck off the main street and follow a winding lane to a hidden part of the city. Now, I was grateful for the relatively quiet and safe space it provided. Finlay glanced up as several waiters propped a back door open, stealing a smoke, and he looked back at me.

"Hold on just a second." Finlay went over to the waiters and drew out his wallet. I turned away, watching the mist drift through a streetlight that had just winked on, and rubbed my hands over my arms.

My skin burned.

I'd never felt so exposed in my life, and I had been on the receiving end of many pitying looks before. Growing up in poverty, I had grown used to the looks that adults gave me.

I had just thought I'd finally left most of that behind me.

I really hoped that Finlay wasn't getting me food from the waiters. It would just add insult to injury, and I didn't think I had it in me to explain to him why it would hurt so badly if he did.

"Here, come with." Finlay was back and I steeled myself, turning to find him brandishing a fancy bottle of champagne and two glasses. The breath left me. I could accept that offering, at least.

Finlay climbed a few steps to the stone landing and put the champagne and glasses on the ground before slipping out of his coat and placing it on the ground before I could stop him.

"Finlay! Your coat."

"I don't care." Finlay's words were clipped, and I wanted to argue with him about the fine wool being on the damp and dirty ground, but I had enough street smarts to understand when a man was barely containing his rage. Though Fin was entirely controlled, the tension spilled off him and I eased myself up the steps, uncertain of how to proceed. "Sit. Please."

I sat.

Finlay joined me, his shoulder not quite touching mine, but the heat from his body still brushed my skin. The arch over our heads caught much of the misting rain, and I stared glumly out at the dark steps that dropped below me, winding away into another part of the city. I could go down those steps and keep going, never looking back, and leave it all behind. I'd done it before, hadn't I?

The pop of the champagne jolted me and then Finlay handed me a glass, which I accepted, watching the bubbles rise in the golden liquid. I had no idea what to say.

"Orla. I truly have no words. I can't make excuses or explain my mother's behavior. That was cruel in a way that I can't ever forgive, and you'll have to excuse me if I can't quite find the correct response right now."

"It's fine." I shrugged a shoulder and took a sip of the champagne. It tasted like starlight.

"It's anything but fine. She's grown tough over the past few years, since we lost my dad, but I hadn't seen the cruel part. You didn't deserve to be put on display like that, nobody does."

"All of those children were," I said softly, turning the glass in my hands. "Every photo in there was someone like me."

"Had I known…I never would have invited you, Orla. I wouldn't have exposed you to that. "

At that, I laughed. Turning, I shook my head at him. He still didn't really get it.

"Exposed me to what? I've already been exposed, Fin. You can't grow up in poverty and not be constantly exposed. If the government isn't involved and prying in your life, school workers are. If not there, then it's photos at the soup kitchens. Growing up like that literally is about exposure. You have no privacy. Nothing to call your own. This?" I gestured with my glass toward the building. "This is nothing. Not in the big scheme of things."

"It was mean-spirited. Even if in some twisted way she thought she was being helpful, it was wrong. And it wasn't fair to you."

"Oh, Fin." I gave him a small smile before making a tsking noise. "Don't you know the world isn't fair?"

"No, but it can still be kind."

At that I stilled, meeting his eyes.

"Orla. I think you're incredible. You've entranced me from the first moment I met you. You're terrifyingly competent, brilliant at what you do, and you constantly leave me in awe of your capabilities. And your stunning beauty only adds to the package. The world may have been unfair to you, but all I see is a goddamned warrior. And I've come to realize that I quite fancy you."

I blinked, stunned at his words, even as my heart swelled in my chest. Did he just say he fancied me? Me ?

"Me?" I whispered. "But why?"

"Didn't I just list the reasons?" Finlay reached out and traced a finger along the neckline of my dress near my shoulder. "No goldfish badge?"

"It's in my handbag," I whispered, his touch at my neck doing weird things to my stomach.

"Show me."

I reached for my bag, having grabbed it when I ran, but now remembering my shawl.

"Damn it, I'm going to have to go back for my shawl."

"I'll get it for you, Orla."

"You don't have to?—"

"Let me take care of you." Finlay's tone had an underlying note that I couldn't quite discern, and I shifted, unsure how to respond to someone wanting to take care of me. It made me uncomfortable the same way that it did when Hilda fussed over me by trying to feed me copious amounts of food. Not saying anything, I unsnapped the closure to the little silk bag that Willow had made and showed Fin the goldfish badge pinned to the green and white striped lining.

"See? How could I not fancy a woman who wields a handsaw with no problem but pins a goldfish badge in her handbag?"

"Oh, Fin." I bumped his shoulder lightly with mine, needing to take the tension from the air. We were so very different, me and him. It was pointless to even go down this path. "You're very sweet."

" Sweet ," Fin all but growled. "Just what every man wants to hear."

"You are though." I grinned as Fin cursed low. The tension gripping me shifted, the mood lightening a bit.

"I am fierce. Strong. Some might even say a ninja." Fin sliced the air with his hand and I laughed .

"Wow, I didn't even see that coming." I nodded approvingly.

"Did you see this coming?" Fin turned my chin up with a finger, his face hovering close. He waited, his eyes on mine.

He could have claimed, taken my lips without my consent, stolen a kiss on a dark staircase on a misty night in Edinburgh. Instead, he seemed to understand that I needed to be the one who gave myself to him. And because of that, his waiting, his innate understanding of what I needed, I closed the space between us.

It was just a kiss.

Or it should have been.

The moment my lips touched his, my skin tingled, as though I'd brushed against a live wire, and energy zipped through me. A deep-seated craving rose, and I gasped against his lips, reaching up to twine my fingers through his thick hair as Fin angled his head and deepened the kiss.

Here. Here was heat, here was desire, here was everything.

Him.

This man, whom I'd been painfully aware of since the day he walked onto my job site, kissed like a demon, promising me my wildest desires, while cradling me close and protecting me from the world. A man who would lay down an expensive coat on a dirty street and pay thousands of pounds to save puppies, yet kissed like he could strip you bare and had the key to your most wanton needs. An ache bloomed, a lovely liquid need, heat coiling low in my core, and I squirmed, my body wanting more.

Fin's hands stroked my back, his kiss demanding, yet oddly slow. The more agitated I grew, the more he slowed, his tongue dipping into my mouth, his teeth scraping gently over my lip. He savored. Teased.

Tormented.

And I was on fire. I wanted all of him, even if just to make the memory of how I felt inside the ballroom burn to the ground.

"Orla." Fin pulled back, bringing his forehead to mine. "Bloody hell, you're magnificent."

"Fin…" I almost mewled in distress, wanting to climb into his lap and have him touch me everywhere. Never in my life had a kiss ignited such desire before and it raged through me, a need I didn't know how to fulfill.

A door opened behind us, voices filling the night air, and I was sharply reminded of where we were. Fin put his arm around my shoulders, pulling me into his body, sheltering me as a group of people walked past us down the steps.

"Can I see you to your room?"

There was no way we could linger longer on these steps, as the rain was beginning to fall in earnest now, and the gala would be ending at some point. The idea of bringing Fin back to my lush hotel room excited me and I looked up at him, surprised by just how much I enjoyed being wrapped in his arms.

Shelter in the storm, and all that, I realized.

"Orla! There you are." At Lia's voice, I turned and found her and Munroe hovering at the base of the steps, Munroe's coat over Lia's shoulders. "I've been looking everywhere. Are you okay?"

"Yes, I'm fine." I shifted, hoping to pull myself away from Fin's arms in front of Munroe, but Fin only held me tighter. Damn the man . It was just a kiss. He didn't need to imply to my client that I was messing around with his employee.

"Lia, can you help her to her room? I need to go back into the gala."

Of course he did. He couldn't just abandon his mum's charity gala because of me. I knew saving face was important, even as disappointment rose. Either way, he'd been kind when he hadn't needed to be, and even if the kiss had been fantastic, it was time to pull back from where my thoughts had been going about taking Fin to my hotel room. At the end of the day, no matter how satisfying a night with him might have been, it was still just a temporary distraction from a shitty night. I had learned long ago that distractions were just that—and the pain would still be there after. What I needed to do was dive back into work, my only refuge, and not into the arms of one very sexy client of mine.

"Thank you," I said, squeezing his arm as I eased myself to standing.

"There's nothing to thank me for." Fin's face once again returned to hard lines. "I'll check on you later. I need to speak with my mother."

"Please don't do anything…like over the top or anything." I didn't want this to become a big deal. "I'm fine. Really."

"I know you are. But she doesn't get to behave like that and not have it go unchecked."

"It's not worth it." From my understanding, people like his mum rarely changed .

"Come on, Orla. Let's get out of this rain. I've been dying to see what's on the room service menu." Lia hooked my arm and tugged gently.

"Wait, you shouldn't have to leave…" I trailed off as Lia shot me a fierce look.

"I absolutely should. Munroe and I both agreed that was unacceptable. We're all going to put our comfies on and watch silly TV while eating our heart's worth of food from the room service menu. Understood?"

I opened my mouth to protest, but the Green Lady drifted close behind Lia.

Let them help you. It's what family does.

Too tired and too cold to protest much more, I let Lia tug me back toward the hotel. Looking back, I caught Fin's eye as he brushed his coat off.

"Thank you."

He just pressed two fingers to his mouth, reminding me of the kiss, and I turned, a smile at my lips.