Page 42 of Tangled Control

My shoulders rise and fall on a big sigh. “Easier said than done – Hey!”

I bat off the dirty sock that he throws at me.

“Get over yourself.” My brother chuckles. “You better not let your shite mood ruin this weekend for me.”

* * *

There’s nothing quite like a lazy breakfast on a big boat when you have a private chef and staff whipping up anything you want. Champagne and mimosas are already flowing, and I have a Bloody Mary in the hope of relaxing a bit. The girls are in bikinis with colourful wraps, and Leo gets a ribbing from us lads for wearing yellow, skin-tight swim shorts.

As soon as the staff start clearing the table, I manage to find a quiet corner at the stern, away from my friends. Leaning over the railing, I gaze into blue nothingness, the hot wind a far cry from Dublin’s fifteen degrees. If I were back in the dirty old town, Catriona would be with me now. The images and fantasies of what I would have done with her trickle into my mind, mixed with regret and anger that I’m not quite able to place. Anger with her for taking up so much of my time? Anger with myself for allowing her into my mind? Or for not having the strength to reject my friends and Alexandra?

Anger with Catriona for making me want to reject Alexandra?

Fuck, my mind is abloodymess, and I can’t make sense of my own tangled thoughts. I know this trip is divine intervention, but it doesn’t stop my stupid head from playing ping-pong between wanting Catriona and wanting to reject her.

Alexandra’s soft voice breaks through as her fingers slide lightly up my arm. “You look troubled. What’s on your mind?”

Catriona half-naked in my office.

I clear my throat. “Work.”

“It can’t be easy, working for your dad. Trust me, I know! I’ve been doing it for years. So much pressure, expectation and disappointment.” She pushes her designer sunglasses up on her head and glances up at me through her thick dark lashes. Her mouth in her usual kissable pout. I don’t correct her interpretation of what mywork issuesare.

She sighs and continues, “Dad still doesn’t want me to take on any other business section. I keep telling him that I’ll only develop if I’m given new challenges, but he treats me as if I’m his precious little girl. Claims the business world is too brutal. I’m capable of so much more, but he thinks I’m in my current job just because he gave it to me.”

“I guess my situation is similar,” I offer. “I know I’m capable of much bigger tasks. However, unlike your father, Dad knows it.”

“Then make him give you more responsibility! Threaten to leave!” Her voice is animated, laced with her own desperation. Catriona’s words come to mind:“One step at a time, Rian, and make every step count.”

“No,” I say after a small pause. “No matter how frustrating it is, I think I need to work my way up.” Looking down at her, I continue, “But it would probably be a good idea for you to make a move away fromCalla.How about you get some work experience elsewhere? It would prove to your father that others appreciate your talents.”

She’s quiet for a long time. Strands of hair have escaped her messy bun and flicker in the warm breeze. Despite wearing wedges, her petite form doesn’t reach higher than my shoulder. She’s almost impossibly beautiful standing there gazing out over the horizon, lost in her own thoughts. It’s probably the first time in years I’ve seen her with her guard down. She always seems to act a role, keeping the true Alexandra locked down.

“Dad would never let me,” she finally says. Taking a deep breath, she slides seamlessly back into her role and puts a smile on her face. “Let’s forget our troubles for the day and have some fun with our friends.”

“You’re right.” I tap the railing and breathe in the salty air. “Let’s get the jet skis on the water and forget our troubles.”

* * *

A weekend on a luxury yacht should leave you sated and relaxed, but my shoulders are tense and unease swirls in my gut. My eyes immediately dart across the office to Catriona’s desk when I step out of the lift. She’s fully engrossed in work. A lock of hair has escaped her tight bun and fallen over her cheek. She’s biting on a pen, her lips plump and tempting.

Get a grip!

I force my gaze away from her. Before I reach my office door, I catch myself looking at her two more times. She’s completely unaware of my presence. I consider walking up to her desk, but uncertain of how she’ll receive me, I choose not to. I don’t know if she’s angry with me for standing her up over the weekend. Or rather the way that I stood her up. It’s not like it was a date, yet I’m unable to get rid of the feeling of regret for how I treated her.

Mixed with regret for what I missed out on.

I remove my jacket and sigh as I sit behind my desk. If the walk from the lift to my office is anything to go by, then I need more interventions in the coming days to stay away from Catriona.

If I can only get through today…

Twenty Eight

Catriona

At eight minutes to eleven, I stand in front of my boss’s desk. The spoiled, useless snob of a man has the gall to sport a tan. If I spent a weekend in Spain, I would – like any normal Irish person – come back either bright red or still as white as when I left due to numerous layers of factor fifty.

But of course, not Rian-fucking-Kearney. He has to best all of us, even in the tanning department.