Page 99 of Twisted Hearts
GAVAN
Fuck me,she looksstunning.
I mean, Eilish always looks good—too good, actually. She’s got a thing for fashion, and she obviously puts a lot of thought and effort into what she wears and how she presents herself when she steps out of the house every day. And I, being on the slightly OCD side of cleanliness and taking pride in howIpresent myself to the world—like that about her.
What can I say: I find meticulous attention to detail sexy.
But tonight, she’s…more. The woman sitting across the table from me in our private dining room at Il Piatto Buono isn’t the Eilish I’ve seen day in and day out in Dior office wear, or Chanel dresses on the street. Tonight, it’s up another notch.
She’s in an elegant black cocktail dress that wouldn’t look remotely out of place on a red carpet or at a royal function. It’s not overtly “sexy”, and yet, she looks like sin in it—a knee-length, scooped back, sleeveless number that shows just enough cleavage to get me hungry, but not so much that I have to fire warning glares at the men around her.
I mean, I stilldo, though.
There’s a knock on the door.
“Enter,” I growl.
A waitress smiles as she steps in, showing me the label on the Domaine de la Romanee-Conti Burgundy before she opens it and pours a splash. I swirl, sip, nod, and wait for her to fill both our glasses before leaving again.
Eilish’s brows shoot up as she glances at the bottle on the table.
“You have expensive tastes.”
“Guilty.”
She grins. I bite back mine.
There are a few reasons I’ve brought her here tonight. There’s the one big one, obviously. But there are some other things I need to clear up first that I’ve dug up in the last day.
And by “things” I really just mean one specific one.
“I have to ask you something.”
She takes a sip of her wine and nods. “Okay.”
“What the fuck is going on with you and Brooks McKinnley?”
Instantly, she stiffens and looks away. My jaw grinds. I’ve found out who the smug little shit was whose nose I most likely broke at the bar that night. Brooks McKinnley, son of Senator Harrison McKinnley.
I’ve also found out that the senator recently made overtures to the Kildare family about marrying Eilish off to Brooks.
Obviously, that isn’t fucking happening. But I want to know how that even gets considered in the first place.
“Well?”
“Well, what?” she spits. “Google him. What do you want from me?”
Well, this is going nicely.
“His father wants you two to marry.”
It’s not a question. She looks surprised for a second, then shrugs.
“And?”
“Why.”
She rolls her eyes. “Idon’t know. Money? Power? Senator McKinnley wouldn’t be the first politician my family had a business relationship with.”