Those dwindling stayed another hour and then I made my way inside and tipped the staff that was packing up. Lydia was helping to clean the kitchen and when the catering staff began leaving, Therese gave Lydia a big hug and winked at her. Lydia had apparently won her over, too. Therese barely gave me a glance as she picked up the last of her things and headed for the door. And I was the one who had given her an overly generous tip.
Checking outside that everything was cleared away and all staff gone, I returned inside feeling relief that the party was over.
"Lydia?" We needed to talk. The kitchen was clean and empty, so I went upstairs, but both her bedroom and bathroom door were open. Frowning, I returned back downstairs. My heart picked up in speed. She wouldn't have left, would she? Why shouldn't she? I was a fecking arsehole to the nth degree. What reason did she have to stay? If it were me, I would leave after today, too. I should be happy to be rid of her. This had all gone arseways, just as Fionn had predicted.
So why did I feel a desperate misery descending over me?
I turned when I heard a small sound come from the living room, my heart hammering as I rushed in. Lydia was collapsed in a chair, her feet sitting on the coffee table, her high heels on the floor beside her. Relief swept through me. She hadn't left. But then my eyes moved to her feet. Oh feck. Her feet looked awful-swollen, with angry red welts in several places where her shoe straps must have been. I entered the room and sat down on the coffee table in front of her, taking her feet into my lap. Her tired eyes cracked open half-mast. God, she was exhausted. Another wave of guilt crashed over me. It must have taken everything she had in her to perform the way she did today. And yet she hadn't cracked, not once. And she hadn't let on about the state of her injured feet either. I felt . . . proud of her, yet also fearful and confused.
"Unhand me you spiteful villain," she slurred, but then she let out a deep moan of pleasure when my thumb pressed into her arch. I prayed she didn't feel what that sound did to the place right above where her foot was now resting.
"I have turned myself into a villain, haven't I?"
She cocked one eye open. "A conscienceless devil," she agreed. "Balor himself."
I let out a startled chuckle. "You remember that story?"
Her lips moved very slightly into what I thought might be the attempt at a smile. "Hmm-hmm. Balor can kill someone just by staring at them with his evil eye. I remember every story about Irish gods and devils and banshees and will-o-the-wisps you ever told me. I remember what you said about clovers, how they're lucky because the three leaves signify yesterday, today, and tomorrow. Each time I see one, I think of you. I remember it all, Brogan."
My heart squeezed tightly, and I felt slightly breathless. "Today was a mistake," I let out on an exhale.
"A mistake? You mean you mistakenly arranged for me to serve you and your guests? Your friends?"
I shook my head. "No, no, that's not what I meant."
She sighed. "I know what you meant." She attempted to rise, but I gently pushed her back into the chair. She watched my hands on her feet for a few minutes, letting out another small moan that raced straight to my cock. "Do all your employees get such personal treatment, or am I special somehow?"
Oh Lydia, I wish you weren't.
My lip quirked up into a small smile. "I figure I owe you this much. How in the hell did this happen anyway?" I held one foot up, turning it slightly so I could assess the full damage. At least there weren't any major blisters.
She nodded down to her shoes on the ground. "They were the only black shoes I had. I would have bought a more comfortable pair if I had known I'd walk the equivalent of seventeen miles today while hefting heavy food-laden trays over my shoulders. I have a newfound respect for those in the food serving industry. If you meant to teach me a lesson about-"
"Forget what I meant to teach you," I rasped. "I'm a stubborn jackass." She opened her eyes and stared at me for a moment. God, she was so beautiful, even exhausted and looking like she might pass out at any moment, her bruised and battered feet sitting in my lap. I wanted her. God, I'd never stopped wanting her. How could I? She had been the only person to ever really see me, I was ready to admit that now. I wanted to take her in my arms and kiss her until we were both panting with need. I wanted to feel her naked body against mine again, to dip my fingers into the place only I'd ever been, to feel the slippery wetness of her arousal, to know she wanted me, too. I wanted to bury myself inside her and forget where she ended and I began. I was hard and aching with the very thought of it. I clenched my eyes shut. I'd orchestrated my own demise. I was going to go down and go down hard. Again.
Lydia's eyes moved lazily up my chest until she met my eyes. I could see a vein beating steadily at the base of her throat. Did I affect her, too? I'd never been sure-not then and not now.
My thumb found the small hollow under her ankle bone and here, too, I could feel her pulse. I rubbed my thumb over it in light circles, feeling the gentle throb under her skin, a reminder that the heart beat everywhere, controlled every inch of the body. When I met her eyes again, they were filled with questions. Questions I wasn't sure I'd be able to answer, even for myself. "Better?" I finally managed, nodding to her feet.
Her lips parted as if she thought to say something, but then they closed and she only nodded. "What happened to your date anyway?" she asked.
"She left with Rodney Calloway, Sr."
She raised one delicate, blonde brow. "Rodney Calloway, Sr. is ninety and in a wheelchair."
I shrugged. "When she realized I was distracted by you, she looked into other options."
Her eyes widened slightly and she stared at me. I'd surprised her with my admission about being distracted by her. But I suddenly found I wanted her to know. You turn me inside out, Lydia. You always have. "You used her," she finally said. "I thought you hated game playing."
"We used each other," I answered, not missing the reference she was making to herself. She was right, though. I'd acted like a hypocrite in so many ways since this had begun that I could hardly keep track. I sighed, my shoulders heavy with self-disgust. Arseways. Totally arseways.
"I should go to bed," she said after a moment.
I nodded, releasing the foot in my hand. "There are some things we need to talk about. Can we do that over dinner tomorrow night? I'm working from my office here tomorrow."
"Sure." I helped her stand up. When she started to hobble toward the door, I couldn't bear it. I swept her up into my arms and though she made a small, startled squeak, she didn't tell me to put her down. Surprisingly, she wrapped her arms around my neck and allowed me to carry her. When I kicked the door to her bedroom fully open so I could enter with her, I nodded toward the bathroom. "Do you want me to run you a bath?" I asked. My voice was hoarse as I pictured her naked, wet limbs hanging over the edge of the tub as she soaked in the hot, steamy water. I cleared my throat and tried to clear the image. But she shook her head.
"No, I just need to go to bed. You can put me down. I'll be okay."
I let go of her legs and lowered her gently, her body sliding against mine. "Goodnight, Lydia."
I needed her to stop looking up at me with her kind, beautiful eyes, somehow seeming to see through my confusion and despair.
I needed her skin not to be so soft, so silken that I didn't want to let go.
I needed her to stop being so alluring, mesmerizing, irresistible.
"Goodnight, Brogan." I needed to be the one who broke away before I did something totally stupid that she didn't need any part of after the day she'd just endured, the day that I had caused her to endure. I turned away.
"Brogan," she called. I turned back. "To my mind, we're even now."
"Even?"
"Today. It settled the score between you and me. You can try to dish out more, but I'll fight you from here on out if you do. Just so you're aware." She lifted her chin, challenging me.
I almost smiled, but held it back. Fierce, exquisite girl, with swollen feet, her golden hair cascading around her stunning face, and her . . . cream puffs falling out of her too-small shirt. She had absolutely nothing to bargain with, and yet she stood there as if she held all the cards. Then again, perhaps she did. Perhaps she had all along. She watched me as I watched her, a small wary look on her face as if she was waiting for me to do something, but she wasn't exactly sure what. Finally, I simply nodded and left her room.