Dangerous Play

13 » luck of the Irish

Now he was offended. "Hey, I'm right here."

Eden ignored him, still arguing with her father. Finn took this time to look around the foyer and take in the details he'd missed. The floor was white marble, including the staircase to his right, from which Eden had descended. A glass table set with a beautiful vase of white lilies sat in the center of the room, while the crystal chandelier directly above it illuminated the space. To his left, a large landscape painting with a gilded frame covered most of the wall.

Behind Eden and Mr. Sayed's squabbling figures, Finn thought he could just make out the beginning of a lavish living room. Judging from the mouthwatering aromas that had drifted into the vast entryway, the dining room was also close by.

"Enough!" Eden's mother shouted. Immediately, both her daughter and her husband quieted, turning to face her with nearly identical mutinous faces. "Qadir, you need to stop picking fights with your daughter. Eden, Finnegan is our guest tonight, and you will treat him with respect. Do I make myself clear?"

Jesus, her anger wasn't even directed at him and Finn was terrified. The other two didn't stand a chance. Qadir quailed under his wife's furious gaze, and Eden rolled her eyes but fell silent. Ibtihal relaxed, warm and smiling once again. "The dining room is this way." Eden and Qadir followed as she led him through the living room to a kitchen that nearly rivaled the one in his house.

Finally, through another door, a white lace tablecloth was draped over the long dining room table, which had five place settings near one end. To Finn's surprise, a teenage boy was already seated at one of these places. He spared the group a disinterested glance before his attention returned to the cell phone clutched in his hand.

"Bakari!" Ibtihal exclaimed. "Where are your manners?"

The boy heaved a dramatic sigh and stood. He pocketed the device, turning to face Finn with his hand outstretched. "I'm Bakari Sayed." Though he was several inches shorter and several years younger than Finn, his attitude suggested that he was used to being in the upper social echelon wherever he went.

Finn shook his hand. "Finn McMahon." What was with this family and all their mixed introductions? Ibtihal had been welcoming, Eden was hostile, Bakari was pompous, and Qadir was, well, Qadir.

"Finn, you can sit next to Bakari," Ibtihal said. She and Eden sat across from them, the latter still looking mutinous about the whole arrangement. That left Qadir to sit in the chair at the head of the table.

As soon as they were all seated, servers began bringing out dishes. Finn was thankful for his years working in his parents' restaurant; at least he knew which utensil went with which dish, though the fact that this was a multi-course gourmet meal being served inside of someone's house felt surreal.

"So, what's your deal?" Bakari asked. Finn glanced up from his salad to find the other boy scrutinizing him with those golden Sayed eyes.

"Pardon?"

"Who are you? What are you doing in our house?"

"Finn is an acquaintance of Eden's," Qadir said, having overheard the questions.

Bakari snorted. "So he's Eden's flavor of the month. Are you going to make this one cry too?"

Finn choked, but was spared from responding by Eden's angry outburst. "Shush, Bakari!" She glared at her brother like she wanted nothing more than to reach across the table and strangle him. "He's Dad's guest, not mine. I barely know him—we don't even go to the same school."

"Do you know where you're going to college next year? Or what you'd like to study?" Ibtihal asked, ignoring the rising tension between her two children.