Page 78 of Lawless Sinners

She’s learned what liquor I drink in social settings and probably knows a few other basic details too. I’ll give her credit for putting in the effort, whereas I haven’t cared enough to learn what color her eyes are.

“Happy birthday.” I raise my glass.

The Harrington ring flashes on her finger as she lifts hers. I was raised to understand the importance of that ring. No one ever asked whether I wanted to marry the woman expected to wear it.

When she gives me a brief, closed-mouth smile, I return my attention to the guests.

“Your present is on the gift table. My mother usually has good taste. However, if you don’t like it, she can swap it for something else.”

She takes another sip. “I’m sure it’s fine.”

Mara claps her hands softly. “Right. Before everyone gets pulled into different rooms, I want a few photos of you two together.”

Eilish’s smile fades. “That’s not necessary, Mother.”

“Of course, it is.” She clicks her fingers at the photographer. “Fix your hair, Eilish.”

“Your hair is fine,” I tell her because Mara’s getting on my nerves.

Mara moves to the fireplace. “Over here. The lighting is more flattering.”

She positions us beneath an old watercolor painting. Eilish stands beside me, shoulder almost brushing mine. Neither of us get too close.

The photographer lifts his camera.

“Lovely,” Mara says. “Fionn, perhaps put your arm around her.”

I place my hand on her back, not wanting to insult Eilish, and keeping myself relaxed even though this is fucking irritating.

The camera flashes.

“Beautiful,” Mara says. “Maybe you could lean a little closer, Fionn. Maybe even kiss her.”

“No,” I say, voice firm.

Mara’s smile freezes.

“It’s a partnership, Mara. Not a relationship.”

Mara recovers with impressive speed. Being married to Art has taught her to gloss over a wound.

“Well,” she says, all fake smiles. “Partnerships can still look friendly.”

“Just stop, Mother.” Eilish sighs. “You don’t need to pretend we’re in love.”

The photographer lowers his camera, unsure whether he’s being paid enough to witness this.

Mara’s eyes sharpen, but her smile stays fixed. “At least he’s beautiful, darling. Some women are handed brutes and told to be grateful.”

Eilish stills beside me.

“And these arrangements are not made to be unmade,” she adds.

My muscles brace at the comment, and I step away from Eilish.

“Photo shoot’s over.” I take a drink and scan the room.

And that’s when I see her.