"Well, it’s a shame we’re staying in your parents’ place."
He arched a brow at me. "Why is it a shame?"
I gasped. "Well, we can’t have sex under their roof."
His brow arched higher. "We sure as fuck can. I’m not sixteen. As far as I know, you’re not either."
"Time hasn’t turned back on me," I confirmed. "You can’t expect me to make sex noises in your parents’ home. I’m loud. We both know this." I mean, I wasn’t usually, but yesterday, it’d been like the office in NASA when one of their rockets launched successfully.
"I’ll kiss you to keep you quiet. Last thing I want is anyone hearing you."
My eyes flared wide, and I squirmed some more. "I mean, I thought they were really traditional?"
"They are. But I’m not a kid, and it’s time they realized that. I’ll handle them. There’s no way the night is ending without you in my bed."
My lips curved. "Such a rebel."
"Oh, yeah, rebelling at forty-fucking-two." He rolled his eyes. "Tells you how under the thumb we all goddamn are." His hand tightened on the steering wheel. "Well, not anymore."
I gulped. "I thought the goal here was to make your father like me."
"It is. But if he doesn’t, it’s tough shit. I’ve decided."
He said that like it was a blanket statement. So, curiously, I queried, "What have you decided?"
"That I’m not accepting anymore of his bullshit." He grunted as he took a turn that would maneuver us off-road and onto a private street.
Nerves hit me, and I asked, "Are we almost there?"
"No. We’re ten minutes away. I want to head to my place first. My—Our," he corrected quickly, "gifts for the family are there."
I blinked, trying not to melt at his inclusion. "Why don’t we just stay here, then?"
He turned to look at me as we pulled up outside a massive set of gates. "Because it’s Christmas." Those words were uttered with the utmost severity. Like he was a kid awaiting Santa Claus.
"Okay, then," I said sheepishly.
Everything about this was crazy to me. We were heading upstate to the family estate for dinner today, and we’d spend Christmas Eve there, but we’d return to Manhattan for Midnight Mass, then drive back, and spend the weekend there.
Why we weren’t just staying in the city until Midnight Mass was beyond me. Not that my ecological-loving ass was complaining—even though I really was trying hard not to imagine how much gas this tank was guzzling—because I was too excited about meeting the O’Donnelly patriarch, but still, it was clear to me they took the holiday seriously.
The house itself was like a dream. Once the gates opened up, it revealed a garden that was pretty much landscaped to high heaven.
There were large patterns in the lawn that reminded me of regal crop circles, because they were all surrounded by privets, and they all stood in a deep cascade, high to low where the house was, to shield the property in a kind of manicured neatness that belonged in the Queen of Hearts’ yard in Alice in Wonderland.
Then there was the mansion.
I was rich. My family was rich. My dad had a sixty-two room property in Santa Clara, for God’s sake, but this place looked as if it had been dragged, brick by brick, from the UK to here.
The only way I could measure it was that it had fourteen windows across and was three stories high.
It was antique stone, had cast iron decorations, and more stone molding than Notre-Dame Cathedral. There were even gargoyles, for Christ’s sake.
At the front, there was a fountain, and it was a roundabout that he drove around to park.
"Holy shit," I breathed.
He rolled his eyes. "Ostentatious, right?"
Surprised, I laughed. "A little. I wouldn’t have expected—"
"No, me either. Da had it built after the accident. He wanted me close so that if there was a problem, I was nearby."
"It looks like he dismantled a house from the UK."
"Probably did, knowing him. The masonry is definitely from another property, but the design inside is more modern. We even have running hot water and everything."
Chuckling, I unfastened the seatbelt and asked, "Is the place empty?"
He nodded. "I sent the staff away while I was with Conor."
"There are rehab centers with crazy strict NDA rules," I mused, "strong enough that most of the times my dad and his band mates attended, no one even knew, so why did you do that? Why go to your brother?"
His jaw tensed, and I knew, point blank, that he was going to lie to me. "He’s one of the few people I trust."
I frowned at him. "Don’t lie."
"I’m not lying," he grumbled as he climbed out of the car.
When I hopped out and met him at the front steps, I groused back, "You totally are lying. I just don’t know why."
"It’s insane," he groused as he pulled out his keys from a pocket.
"I can deal with insane."
"You say that now," was his droll retort.
"Aidan," I growled, exasperated because I sensed something was going on. My spidey senses were tingling. "Tell me!"
He shot me a mutinous look. "You were on the floor below."
I blinked. "Yeah. What about it?"
"I’ve known you lived there for fucking months, Savannah. I’ve avoided Conor’s building as a result, even though I know there was little chance of us ever meeting because the penthouse has different entrances, but when I cleaned up, I just... it sounds insane to me too, but I wanted to be close to you."
For a second, I just stood there, processing his words, and then I pulled my arm back and socked him in the chest.
"You jackass," I yelled, doubly pissed when my socking him in the chest didn’t even rock him back on his heels, which then made me gasp as I grabbed a hold of him as I remembered his injury. Oh, my God, I was such a bitch! "I’m so sorry! Did that hurt your knee?"
His hands came up to cover my wrists, as both sets of fingers were clutching and creasing his very expensive jacket. "Savannah, it’s okay."
"I could have hurt you."
"No offense, sweetheart, but Brennan is starting to train my brothers’ women in self-defense... You really need to take that class."
I squinted up at him. "Are you trying to tell me I have a weak right hook?"
He smirked. "I’m not trying to tell you anything. I’m telling you."
"Don’t make me forget about what you just said, you asshole. Not only did I not move from my old building for years, I was in The Sharpe for months! I picked that building to be close to a goddamn O’Donnelly. I was hoping it was you but didn’t know for sure.
"You felt that much for me that, at your lowest, you wanted to be close, yet you still didn’t reach out?" I wanted to rail him, and then, when I saw the gentle amusement in his eyes, I processed why. "I need you to stop looking out for me, Aidan."
"Not going to happen."
"No, seriously." I grabbed his shirt. "If it means you don’t get to be a part of my life, then you need to stop it. Now."