The Devil’s Keepsake by Somme Sketcher
Poppy
I strain my ears to hear the front door open and close, but I can barely hear anything over the hammering of my heart against my rib cage.
After I’m sure he’s gone, I swing my legs over the edge of the bed, needing to feel the cold floorboards on the soles of my feet to bring me back to reality.
What the fuck?
On shaking legs, I stumble into the en suite and perch on the edge of the freestanding bath. I twist the knob marked cold—I really don’t need any more heat today.
As the water sputters out of the tap, I stare at the mosaic tiles lining the mirror, trying to make sense of what just happened.
I’m disgusted with myself. How my body reacted under the strong hand of Lorcan Quinn. My fingers dip below my sundress, brushing over my sensitive mound. And boy, did it react. The hard feeling of his bulge against my pussy as his heavy hand ran over the back of my thighs and ass. The coldness of his ring as it slammed down on my cheeks. The white-hot sting that shouldn’t have felt so goddamn good. Especially not after Cillian’s revelation that he buried his father alive.
How could I go from being sickened by him to arching my back for him in less than ten minutes?
It was a poisonous cocktail I had no right to enjoy. But I kept drinking from his cup. I could have ended it by succumbing, by telling him what he wanted to hear. But I kept drinking from his cup. I could have ended it by succumbing, by telling him what he wanted to hear. I could have curled my hand around the Faberge egg shard that I constantly keep under my pillow, and used it to slice his throat. Instead, I spread my legs when he demanded it, I looked him in the eye when he told me to, and I let him. I let him tease an orgasm from my aching pussy while staring the Devil in the eye. He didn’t take it, I let him.
And despite my better judgment, I enjoyed every goddamn second of it.
Another realization washes over me, crushing the air from my lungs. “Fuck,” I whisper, putting my sweaty face in my hands.
I cheated on Sam. His kind brown eyes, his wide, innocent smile that stretches across his face every time he sees me pops into my brain.
He’s so…sweet. And I’ve completely betrayed his trust.
The Devil himself isn’t in the room anymore, but a variation of it sits on my shoulder, spewing its poison in my ear.
When has Sam ever made you feel like that?
To distract myself from any more intrusive thoughts, I slip the dress over my head and plunge myself into the ice-cold water. The air escapes my lungs, leaving me gasping for breath. But I force myself onto my ass, then onto my back, until I’m neck-deep in punishment.
The Devil has a hold on me.
I’m staring at the chandelier—it’s incredibly impressive, actually. Vintage Givenchy, if I’m not mistaken, made in Germany by the one and only William Kent—when there’s a timid knock on the door.
Orna.
Despite the numbness veiling my brain and body, shame seeps in. God, I hope she doesn’t know what just happened.
“I’m in the bath,” I call out, thrashing about to get out and wrap a towel around my shoulders. “You can come in—I’ll be out in a second.”
“No worries, lovie,” she calls, breezily. “I’m only bringing some dinner.”
Dinner?I think as I tug on a silk robe. Guess the time flies when you’re dancing with the Devil.
I emerge from the bathroom and am immediately greeted by Orna’s apologetic face. “Listen, I’m sorry about Lorc. It was completely my fault. I lost track of time and—”
“Don’t be silly. Really. Thank you for even asking him. I’m surprised he agreed.”
She flashes me a grin. “Seems like you know him too well already.”
I fluster, lowering my eyes to the floor. Better than I’d like after today. I turn my attention to the tray on the dresser and let out a small laugh. “Come on, Orna. That meal is ridiculous.”
It’s not dinner, it’s a banquet. Tacos on one plate, a huge serving bowl of Mexican rice on another, and a whole host of dips.
“I thought you’d be starving after breaking your hunger strike,” she grins. “I’m sure you’ll find room for it. I’ll be back in a few hours and I hope to see shiny clean plates!”
As she turns to leave, the sudden realization that I don’t want to be left alone with my thoughts hits me like a ton of bricks. “Wait,” I stammer. “Share this… buffet with me.”
“No, no, I’ll—”
“Please,” I say, not caring that desperation is seeping into my tone. I can tell Orna recognizes it from the way her eyebrows soften. She agrees.
“Fine—I’ve been run off my feet today and I’m in enough trouble as it is.”
She sets the tray on the chaise lounge, sitting to one side of it. I try not to think about what Lorcan was doing to me in that exact spot less than an hour earlier.
I sit on the other side of her, reaching for a taco and cramming it into my mouth. I didn’t realize how hungry I was until now. “Damn,” I say through a mouthful of pulled pork, “this is amazing.”
Orna grins. “I’ll pass on the compliments to the chef—she also happens to be my sister.”
I cock my head. “Really? You both work at the Quinn estate?”
“Uh-huh, and our eldest sister too. She’s another housekeeper like me. You’ll probably see her around—us Quinn girls are easy to spot.”
“How long have you been here?”
She laughs. “Forever, lovie. I grew up here, and now I work here.”
I look out the window at the sprawling grounds. Golden hour is setting in, washing an amber glow over the hedges. Orna picks up on what I’m thinking. “It’s a strange little hierarchy, right,” she says, dipping a taco into the pot of salsa. “Quinn men run business, Quinn women run the home. In other words, they make money and we make the beds.”
There’s no hiding that bitterness dripping from her tone. “That sounds shitty,” I say honestly. “What if you don’t want to?”
“Come on,” she says softly, lowering her eyes to the food that separates us. “There’s no such thing as choice in this family. You’ve witnessed that first hand.”
My heart aches for her. I’ve been held here against my will for less than a week and I’m crawling up the walls—I can’t imagine being here my entire life.
“Well then let’s escape.” The words tumble from my lips before I can stop them. She locks the door behind her, Poppy. Orna is not an ally.
Orna takes the time dusting the crumbs from her pants, before looking up at me from behind her thick lashes. “Sorry, lovie. I think I’ve given you the wrong impression. I’m not…” she wrings her hands, conjuring up the right word. “trapped here like you. Yeah, this is the life that I’ve been dealt, but spending my days cooking and cleaning really isn’t that bad. I love my family—” she raises an eyebrow “—yes, even Lorcan, believe it or not. I get to spend time with them all day. I take holidays whenever I want and—not to be crude or anything, but I have more money than I could possibly ever spend in my life. Being a Quinn is great.”
I study her face. “Then why do you look so sad?”
She raises her shoulders to her ears. “Everyone has dreams, right?”
I nod. “And what’s yours?”
She flashes me a shy smile, as if I’ll find whatever comes from her lips ridiculous. “Business school. I love numbers,” she gushes. “I’d be an accountant if I could.”
My heart warms and aches for her at the same time. “So, why can’t you… help out? In the family business?”
She looks at me like I’m stupid. “And go against over fifty years of Quinn family tradition? No dream is worth that amount of aggravation.”
The radio on her belt crackles. She glances at the screen and sighs. “I gotta go, Antoin needs me.”
“Who’s Antoin?” I ask as she rises to her feet.
“You haven’t met him yet?” She frowns. “He’s my brother. Lorc’s right-hand man.”
I nod, taking everything in. “Well, thanks for dinner.”
Orna stops by the door, a smile warming up her face. “Thanks for inviting me. Finish up—I’ll be back in a few hours to clear up. Need anything else?”
I shake my head and she disappears through the door, locking it after her.
Pushing a half-eaten taco around my plate, I let out a loud sigh into the silence. Whatever weird, unwarranted feelings I had for Lorcan dissolved within seconds of hearing Orna speak about her duty here.
If he can’t even let his own cousin live out her dream, there’s no way he’s going to let me return to mine.