The Beast of Stornoway

Chapter 29: Van

Van angrily towel-dried his hair as he marched out of the bathroom. He couldn't believe she had the nerve to dismiss him like that. In front of those reckless porters!

His phone dinged and he snatched it from the bed to look at the message. His lip twitched and a slight grin spread across his face.

How does she do that? 

He could be absolutely furious with her, but then she does shite like this. She sent him a silly GIF and just like that, she snuffed out his anger. He cringed, remembering the way she yelled at him. It was like she'd slapped him in the face. No one had ever spoken to him that way or looked at him with such rage and disappointment.

His mother was always disappointed in him and he could handle that look from her.

But not from Amani.

The look in her brown eyes hurt him. It made him feel terrible. He knew he shouldn't have yelled at that young lad. The porter didn't do anything terribly wrong. Van didn't really care that he dropped his clubs.

He took a deep breath. He was just on edge. He was always anxious when he had to engage with the Mionlach . It didn't bloody help that he was being forced to meet with Rebecca.

Why couldn't Abernathy just appease her for fuck's sake? When Declan and Rebecca got married, he thought that was the end of it. He could hide himself and his broken heart away from the world. He'd make his appearances, but he'd never have to play their sick mind games.

He tightened his belt around his green and burgundy kilt. He shrugged a black suit jacket over his shoulders and adjusted the burgundy cravat around his neck. He looked himself over in the mirror. He pushed his hair back and tied the brown locks at the base of his neck. He looked sufficient and good enough to blend in with the snobbery.

Her back is flawless. 

He gulped as he stared at the beauty down the hall.

Amani stepped out of her room fumbling with her handbag while she shrugged a blazer over the open back of her black sequined top. Van was speechless. Amani was gorgeous.

She turned around with a bright smile on her face. "I'm not late!" she exclaimed, but he was too busy memorizing every inch of her.

Her top dipped low, hinting at the cleavage peeking beneath the glittering fabric. Her shirt was tucked into a pair of high waisted black pants that swept perfectly over the curve of her hips and tapered down her legs to the black stiletto heels on her feet.

His eyes traveled back up her impeccable figure to her face. Her curls were free of the braids she plaited earlier and twisted behind her head in a curly coif. A few locks sprang free of the restraint and framed her stunning features. She didn't paint her makeup on like so many of the socialites either.

No, of course she didn't.

Her makeup was light and only extenuating her long dark lashes and golden-brown eyes. His throat felt dry when his eyes landed on her plump crimson lips.

How could she dress so...modest, yet look so incredibly sexy? He wished she'd take off that jacket so he could look at her beautiful back again. He'd love to trail his finger over her soft skin, down that—

Cut it out, Blarcum.

He cleared his throat to snap himself out of his stupor. "You look nice," he grumbled.

Fuck! Fuck! Fuuuuuuuuu.....Why did I say that?!

"Thank you." She giggled and looked at her shoes. "You look nice too. A kilt really suits you," she said, biting her lip. Her eyes slowly trailed up his body as if she was memorizing every inch of him too.

His lip curled into a small smile. He didn't care to wear his kilt very often, but if it made her look at him like that...he wouldn't mind wearing it a bit more. He slid his hands over the front of his kilt and clasped them together as if to cover himself.

Her eyes grew wide and her cheeks puffed up as if to hide a smile. She choked out a laugh and looked away from him toward the lift. "I-I mean, uh, we should g-go, right?"

"Right." He nodded, walking past her down the hall. He couldn't believe she looked at him like that. He slid a hand over his mouth to fight the laugh that itched to break free. He concealed it with a cough and pressed the button  to call the lift.

He looked at her, staring at her phone, her cheeks were still swollen from a blush. A slight grin tugged at his lips. She was a right weird one. She didn't even try to hide the lustful look in her eyes when she shamelessly ogled his attire. His eyes grew wide and he looked away from her. 

Oh, bloody hell. She can't be attracted to me. 

They couldn't be attracted to each other. Not with Rebecca and his mother planning their devious scheme. More importantly—he didn't need that. He didn't need Amani or any of these...feelings.

The little witch strikes again. 

He snarled as he  stepped onto the lift and stood as far away from her as possible. He needed to keep away from her and remember his plan.

After this weekend, Operation Rory x Amani is in full effect. There wouldn't be any more encounters with the little temptress. He couldn't afford to have a distraction like this. He had to focus on the task at hand: dealing with Rebecca and navigating a weekend with the Mionlach. His manor depended on it.