Page 4 of Tangled Control

“It was indeed.”

“Gosh, she’s so pretty. Her mother is a British royal, you know,” she says, as if that’s news and not common knowledge.

“So I believe.”

Yes, perfect Alexandra has an aristocratic mother and her father is a self-made multimillionaire. Some people have it all – the looks, pedigree and money.

“Do you think they are dating?”

That pinch is back in my tummy. “I don’t think so,” I say and excuse myself.

It’s not the first time Rian and his posh friends with their smooth Irish accents have made me feel worthless. It never ceases to hurt – and makes me tone down my broad, north Dublin twang.

But today, the hurt is a dull notion at the back of my mind. I slowly walk back to my desk, leave the file and head to the bathrooms at the back of the office. As I close the door to the stall, I can’t help but picture his eyes, clouded dark, his teeth flashing.His words.

What would it be like, being bent over his knees, his big hand on my bum?

Spanking me.

I know people get off on it. Latex-wearing people with heavy eyeliner and choker jewellery. Not normal people, like me.

Surely notnormal people like me.

Yet when I push down my panties, they’re wet.

Four

Rian

Tan that arse of yours.Tan that arse?!

Jesus, what was I thinking?

I wasn’t thinking, that’s the problem. I struggle to rein it in when it comes to Miss Ice Queen on a good day, and that mixed with the anger that’s been clouding my head today…Fuck!I’ve never gone this far before.

Thankfully whatisgone is my hard-on. We exit the six-storey, glass-fronted KSS building that sits next to the traditional Georgian-style houses that south side Dublin is so famed for. How Dad ever got planning permission back in the day is beyond me.

“Hey, watch it!” Leo ducks away from my umbrella that I opened without checking where my friends were standing. “You almost poked my eye out.”

“Sorry.” I grimace and angle the umbrella to shield Alexandra from the spring shower.

She pats Leo’s arm. “You’d rock an eyepatch, Leo.”

He shrugs. “Certo.That goes without saying.”

I chuckle under my breath. Leo loves to add Italian phrases to his vocabulary. He may be half native, but he’s never lived a day in Italy. I’ve known both him and Alexandra all my life. Grew up together, within walking distance of each other’s family properties south of Dublin. Apart from some stints in boarding school in England for Alexandra and me, we’ve also attended the same private schools, although Alexandra two years below Leo and me.

A gust of wind catches the umbrella and I adjust the angle.

“I hope the rain stays away for the spring BBQ.” Alexandra sighs. “I can’t cope with another washout like last year.”

“It was adisaster.” Leo rolls his eyes dramatically and Alexandra punches his arm at his theatrics.

“So sad I had to endure thirty-five degrees in Kuala Lumpur and missed it.” I snicker, but ask, “How are you going to deal with the moody Celtic weather Gods this year?”

“We can’t let three hundred people into the house, so heavy-duty marquees are the only way forward. It’s just such a shame to cover up the garden should it be nice weather.”

“You’ve got enough garden to take from,” I comment drily, then add with a tilt of my head, “If anyone can make it work, it’s you.”