Juice: The O'Malleys Book 1, contemporary Adult Romance (7 page)

He had long ago tired of the bevy of beauties that populated his inner circle and by choice had been celibate for over six months now. Thanks to a rather awkward experience with his ex-Abigail, he was steering clear of women for the foreseeable future. She had turned from clingy to neurotic in the few months before the break-up. The phone calls that she had made to his parents’ home in Ireland had been the straw that broke the camel’s back. The threat of a restraining order had put paid to her constant ringing and harassing, for now.  Money hungry plastic women, whose bodies felt hard and cold had fast become a huge turn off for Rory. Their expressions always hidden beneath layers of Botox and too much make up. Remembering the feel of Cassidy’s thigh as his leg had pressed against hers, he smiled. It had been soft, like her. Lush curves evident in her black leggings, sexy boots and over-sized green t-shirt. Casual, relaxed. The black boots with the wedge heel and loads of silver buckles had nearly sent him over the edge. He liked it all, the clink of her silver bangles, her hoop earrings and that hair! Damn it, he was on fire for her. She looked good enough to eat and eating her had suddenly moved to the top of Rory’s to-do list. Something told him that dreamy Cassidy Evans was not going to be an easy adventure. But he was used to challenges, and met each and every one head on and with vigour. He had wanted to meet her for so long. He wanted to talk to her about art, about her family, but mostly about what had happened with Aoife.             

Thanks to Paul’s discreet but thorough investigation, he had learned so much about her already. He knew all about her work, her family and the effects of the tragedy of her brother Harry’s death. She was reclusive, rarely photographed in public and intensely private. The few pictures of her he had Googled were from far away, or she was hidden behind someone, shielded. He knew she had dated Jonathan Smith the infamous screen writer, but that had ended over two years ago. She seemed to have maintained a single status since then. Being honest, he really hadn’t taken much notice of what she looked like. Certainly, he had never thought of her in a sexual way, now that’s all he could think about! There was something else though, a nagging desire to protect her.  Biting his bottom lip in thought, he gave himself a mental slap across the back of his head.
Now that stops right here, O’Malley. Caring is not part of the deal
. He needed her help, but not yet. First, he needed to know more about the real Cassidy Evans.

Taking his phone from his inside pocket, he dialled the office. Grace, his secretary answered on the first ring. Facebooking on her phone no doubt, he mused smiling.

“Grace, Rory O’Malley’s PA. Speak now or forever hold your peace.”

Rory covered the phone with his hand while he chuckled.

“Grace, really? How many times do we have to discuss phone etiquette, before you begin to understand the niceties?”

“Listen hot stuff, I’ve got my old man telling me to quit your ass because he never sees me. My kid got suspended from school today for smoking weed in the toilets and to top it all off I gained 4 lbs at my weekly weigh in. Plus you’re ringing my mobile, I knew it was you. What do you need O’Malley junior?”

Rory stared at the phone and covered his eyes.

“Grace, could you please set up a meeting between O’Malley resorts and a Miss Cassidy Evans of The Muse Gallery and Artistic Consultations. I am in need of their services.”

“Of course. Anything else, your highness?”

“Yes Grace, make it in your name.”

Grace stilted on the other end of the phone, he could almost see her brilliant mind processing his request.

“Hmmm will do. Something you’d like to share? The Muse Gallery, while starting to make a name for itself, is still considered small fish. We had excluded it almost immediately when looking for artistic consultancy firms.”

“I’ve decided to take a chance on a small business Grace, nothing more. And Grace, make sure Miss Evans knows that this is a big commission job. Arrange the meeting for tomorrow at eleven, at the gallery, please.”

He ended the call abruptly without saying goodbye. Grace had worked for his family for thirty years and given half a chance would have him agreeing to lecture her lazy arse of a son about the dangers of smoking weed.

Relaxing against the buttery soft leather of the back seat, he closed his eyes. He was weary, tired of the daily grind. His business was competitive. The constant updating resorts, the out-bidding competitors and playing catch-up in an ever changing and evolving industry. While he loved it, he was starting to wonder about a life outside work. What about a little play for a change? He was becoming a rather dull boy. Cassidy Evans would be a welcome distraction from life for a while. She would be treated kindly of course. She deserved that much. His family had benefited from her pain in the past, and he would enjoy making amends for any inconvenience she had suffered.

Momentarily he thought about telling her the truth, but decided it was better to wait. Get to know her a bit, for Aoife’s sake. He didn’t want his already fragile sister damaged further by an angry confrontation. Aoife wouldn’t cope if Cass harboured any ill feeling towards her because of what had happened in the past. It was better to wait just a few days, sound her out and then tell Cass everything. He would just have to hope Cass would understand his reasons behind the deception.

(
Cass)

Here’s to me, and here’s to you.

And here’s to love and laughter.

I’ll be true as long as you.

And not one moment after.

Irish proverb

C
ass was still dancing around the gallery holding Duffy when her assistant and BFF Marie came into work.

“Okay you’ve finally lost it Cass, and what the hell?! Where did you get that kitten, is that the little one you’ve been feeding? Ooh it’s gorgeous! Look at youuuuuu.”

Marie made kissy noises that had Duffy head-butting her nose. She giggled at the kitten and rubbed it behind the ears.

“I found her outside, nearly run over by this brute in one of those gas guzzling SUV type things. All fancy with dark windows and a sexgod called Rory inside. And then, to top it off my nipples got hard and I ran away. I’ve named her Duffy, it suits her doesn’t it?”

“Whoa! Back up! Sexgodkittenbrutenipples? What the actual fuck!?”

“Okay hold up,” Cass said, and put her palm up in front of Marie’s face.

“First things first. Business. As in, we finally have some. Maybe a huge commission. I just got a call. I have an appointment with the O’Malley Executive Resorts, they are hiring an artistic consultancy firm to advise on the purchase of art for their Island summer homes. And we’ve got a meeting with one of the head honchos for tomorrow at eleven.”

“Oh my God Cass, that’s wonderful.”

Marie clapped her hands together and smiled making her beautiful face even more stunning. Wide blue eyes fanned with black long lashes, twinkled. Cass felt a rush of love for her best friend. She was so lucky to have her. “This could be it, honey. Our first big commission. This could really get me out of a hole, Marie. It could secure both of our jobs for the next year at least.”

Cass didn’t miss the look of relief that flashed across Marie’s face, even though she tried to hide it. Marie was pretty shit at hiding her feelings anyway, and Cass loved her even more for it. But, it didn’t matter; she already knew that she just had to get this commission, for Marie's sake if nothing else. Marie had been her best friend since primary school, and her husband Mark had been made redundant recently. He had picked up some bar work, but they were still struggling. Cass had a collection of her own work that was selling well, but they needed all the consultancy gigs they could get too.  Marie needed this, hell they both did and Cass decided then and there that she would do anything to make it happen. Even if it meant sucking up to an old coot with too much money, who knew nothing about art. Marie and Mark had helped her get through Harry’s death and all the shit that went with it. Not to mention supporting her after the sad demise of her relationship with her bastard ex, Jonathan.

Marie had moved back in for a couple of weeks after Jonathan, staying with her at night and providing copious amounts of alcohol, chocolate, and an ear to listen when things became too painful to bear. The three of them had moved to London from Devon, two and a half years before. Three country kids dreaming of life in the big city. Cass gritted her teeth and made a silent vow to bag the commission with the O’Malley Resorts.

“Now…back to the Kitten, the sexgod and the nipples, something tells me this is going to be good.”

Marie poked Cass in the belly, balancing on her heels with a cheesy grin on her face. Cass moaned and buried her face in her hands.

“Oh Jesus, get me some hot chocolate woman. I’ll give you every excruciating detail.”

A half an hour and a lot of hot chocolate and marshmallows later. Marie was still laughing and shaking her head, as she wiped the tears from the corner of her eyes.

“Cassidy Evans, it could only happen to you.”

Cass twisted her lips into a sly smile and nodded.

“He really was the hottest man I have ever seen, Marie. Knicker dropping stuff, probably a total egomaniac and a complete bastard to women though.”

“Hey! Maybe not. Mark may be an out of work accountant, but he still floats my boat and he’s hot and handsome too.” Marie laughed.

“Yes Marie, I am fully aware of his boat floating abilities. Hellooooo, we did all share an apartment for two weeks in Spain last year. The walls were so thin it was like being in the bed beside you two.”

“How very dare you.” Marie spluttered trying to look offended.

“What the hell does that mean, Cass?”

“Well, either you were secretly training to be a jockey at the time. Or you like saying the words harder, harder, faster, faster, a lot.  Like a lot….. a lot.”

Marie blocked her eyes with one hand and one of her ears with the other hand.

“I’m refusing to go any further with this conversation, forget I mentioned Mark’s purported hotness and promise to never ever mention this again. Especially not to Mark, who may take a fancy to the idea of your ear wigging on our sexual exploits and have some weird sexual fantasy about you. Ugh.”

“Consider it forgotten my dear Marie, my therapist will thank you for never having to hear all the dirty rotten details again. It takes up half my sessions. She hates you both.”

Cass got thumped in the arm for her trouble and made a drama out of rubbing and nursing it. Marie was serious though, about Mark, and they
were
a great couple.  Mark
was
hot, even if Cassidy could and would never look at him in that way. He would always be ten-year-old geeky Mark Jennings, to Cass. Her first and most powerful memory of Mark, would always be him rolling spit balls and spitting them at the girls in gym class. It hadn’t surprised her in the slightest when Marie and Mark had got together. Mark always had puppy dog eyes for Marie and when he had stopped spit balling her, well, it was a dead give-away.

Mark and Marie had taken Harry’s death hard, they were best friends and Harry had been like a brother to them both. The four of them had had their own little clique and now that was incomplete. Poor Mark had got stuck with the girls. Cass sighed and stretched her arms over her head.

“Hhmm, Well I doubt I will ever see sexy Rory again. I’m sure we run in different circles altogether. I can’t really imagine myself on a yacht sunning myself in a string bikini while feeding him grapes.”

“Hey, I can totally see you on a yacht with your big knockers held together with string,” Marie snorted.

“Thanks Marie, I’d be so gay for you right now. If I wasn’t straight.”

Cass grabbed her breasts and jiggled them as Marie roared with laughter.

“Put them away for heaven sake, you’ll poke someone's eye out with those!”

Cass spent the rest of the day on a high. She googled the O’Malley Resorts and read up as much as she could about them, for the meeting. Run by Gearóid O’Malley and his family from the west of Ireland, the resorts were the height of exclusivity.
Second Irishman of the day
, thought Cass. Maybe it was a sign.
Red bloody flag, no doubt!
  Gearóid O’Malley, had set up the resorts in the 90’s building boom, as a getaway for the elite of the business and celebrity world. There were ten locations dotted around the world, from the Caribbean to America and two in Ireland. All on private Islands. Cass whistled and her eyes widened as she looked at the list of celebrities and corporate giants that were allegedly, on their client list. Everything was gossip and hearsay, apparently. The O’Malleys guarded their clientele’s privacy with a secrecy akin to Area 51. They had no need to advertise, their clients came to them, and after rigorous security and background checks were awarded entry.
Gawd, it’s more exclusive than Hogwarts,
thought Cass. The resorts were all copies of the original resort on Sherkin Island, a little island off the west coast of Ireland. They were made up of one large main hotel that housed only twenty guests at a time and a discreet smattering of staff cottages. The security was elite and watertight. All supplies were brought in by boat and each resort had a small runway and helicopter pad. The only photos she could see online were aerial views, taken by celebrity hungry magazines before high court injunctions were put in place to stop them. Cass slammed her laptop shut like a petulant child, she hated celebrity journalists. Her ex Jonathan, also known as ‘The bastard’ had become famous overnight when he had sold a screen play to a big movie production company in America. He had been plagued by the paparazzi, all trying to get pictures of him and strangely, her too.