Rose. The interloper.

What the fuck was she doing here? Princess Rose was supposed to be out. She was supposed to be somewhere else. Anywhere else. Not waltzing into Liam's study like she owned the fucking place, interrupting the single most coveted interlude of Kitty's week.

“Can't you fuckin' knock?!” Kitty demanded. Eyes narrowed in disdain, she glared at the privileged little blonde, willing her perfect golden hair to catch fire.

“I— Um— That is to say…” Rose stammered. “Apologies?”

Liam jerked away from Kitty as though her skin had scalded him. Clearing his throat, he did up the first couple buttons of his trousers — which Kitty had only just managed to get open — then turned toward Rose.

“Your timing's brilliant. Well done,” he remarked. He made a brusque motion between the two women. “Rose, this is my secretary, Kitty Ross. Kitty, my houseguest, Rose Sinclair.”

Kitty's lip curled in a sneer. “We've met,” she spat.

“We have, indeed,” Rose said with a weak smile. “Um, hello. Again.”

With a toss of her hair, Kitty shot Liam an expectant look. Awkward introductions had been made and dismissed. He was now welcome to berate and kick the intruder out.

But he didn't. Instead, he asked Rose a question: “You've gathered some useful information, I take it?”

Useful information?! Kitty was beside herself. What could possibly be more ‘useful’ at this particular moment in time than a good, hard, rampant fuck?

Liam's voice was calm, steady, and unfazed. As if Rose's disruption of their evening plans was perfectly acceptable. It was beyond the fucking pale. Kitty's aghast glare traveled from Liam to Rose, then back again. What in the high holy hell was going on? Why wasn't he telling the intrusive little chit to leave?

【♖】

“Useful information? I... That is…” Rose trailed off.

It seemed her mind was incapable of sending her mouth a complete coherent thought. Although usually so articulate, Rose found that her words would not come. The secretary, dress askew, was glaring daggers into her, as though Rose had single-handedly derailed her wedding night. And William... Well, William had lost his shirt. And not in the figurative down-and-out-at-poker kind of way. For the second time that day, Rose found herself staring at his bare chest. At the unique tattoo that outlined the perfect curve of his left pectoral muscle. Her face flushed and she forced herself to look at the floor.

“Information. Of the...useful variety,” she stammered. “Yes. That. I have...some.”

Her eyes darted to Kitty's face, then William's face, then the closed drapes behind them, then William's chest, then back to the floor. Her blush intensified.

“But never you mind,” Rose amended swiftly. “We can speak later. I'm so terribly sorry for the interruption. I'll take my leave now and let you two resume your...activities.”

“Yes, you do that,” Kitty snapped.

Rose bit her lip and jerked her head in resignation. Of all the mortifying situations in which she could find herself, this had to be one of the worst. William had been about to engage in fornication with his secretary. In his study. On his desk. And clearly this was something of a habitual practice for the two of them. How would she ever live down the embarrassment? A lobotomy, perhaps? Yes, that seemed the only surefire course to absolution.

But as Rose turned toward the door for a hasty retreat, she realized humiliation was not the only emotion that plagued her. There was also the niggling of something else. Something far more shameful. Something akin to jealousy.

However small, however hidden, a part of Rose wanted William to kiss her like that. Touch her like that. Perhaps more than touch. A truth she hadn't been aware of until she'd walked through the door two minutes ago.

But no! That was absurd. Not to mention indecent. How could she even allow herself to think such a thing?

She reached for the door handle just as William's voice gave her pause.

“It's fine, Rose. Stay.”

Rose pivoted where she stood, certain she must have misheard him. The unbridled scoff that exploded from Kitty suggested she was of the same mind.

“Stay? Are— Are you sure?” Rose asked.

William reached up and raked his fingers through his tousled hair in a lax attempt to straighten it out. “Aye. Kitty was just leaving.”

Without so much as a glance at his secretary, he bent to retrieve his discarded shirt where it lay on the floor. Thrusting his arms into the sleeves, he rounded his desk, then grabbed for a cigarette and lit it up.

Rose's eyes darted between his flippant display and Kitty's expression of disbelief. What could she say? Should she attempt to play peacemaker? In truth, she didn't know how to begin. The decorum needed to salvage a situation such as this had never been taught in any finishing school she'd attended. These were uncharted and dangerous waters.

【♖】

At Liam's words, Kitty's mouth fell open. She had to leave? He had invited her here, with the clear implication of what was to transpire between them, and now she had to leave? For a prudent little bitch who didn't think to knock?

He couldn't mean it. She wouldn't let him.

“Beg your bloody pardon, I was just what?” Kitty demanded.

She gawked at him as he proceeded to round the desk and sit down, lighting a post-exertion cigarette like they'd already finished the deed. He gestured for Rose to take a seat on the sofa in the exact spot Kitty had occupied no more than ten minutes ago.

“Leaving,” Liam repeated, exhaling smoke.

“I'm leaving? You can't be serious,” Kitty scoffed, indignant.

But Liam shot her a sharp look — a look she knew very well. It said that she should keep her mouth shut and just do as she was told.

Well, fuck that.

Kitty seethed, her hands balled into fists. Sliding down from her perch on the desk, her head snapped in Rose's direction. It gave her a second's worth of nasty satisfaction to see Rose flinch under her poisonous glare.

“Kitty, forgive me,” Rose said, her voice pitiful and small. “I never intended to—”

“Your intentions make no bloody difference,” Kitty snapped, cutting her off. “Your presence is unnecessary and unwanted. You don't get to speak.” She spun around and turned her glare on Liam. “And you! Y'told me she wouldn't be here. Said she was nothin' but an errand girl. Said it was me you wanted tonight! You're a fuckin' liar, Liam!”

“Kitty,” Liam said, his tone sharp and full of warning. “We can pick this up another time. Rose and I have business. Just go. My driver'll take ya home.” He took a long drag off the cigarette, then exhaled the smoke in a wispy cloud that floated toward the two women.

“Ya have business,” Kitty echoed as she bent to reattach her dangling garters to her stockings. She didn't care that Rose was getting an eyeful. The little intruder deserved to feel uncomfortable. “Yeah, I'm sure you fuckin' do. All kinds o' business.”

“That's enough, Kitty,” Liam commanded, slapping his hand against the surface of the desk. “Enough. Alright?”

Expelling a loud noise of disgust, Kitty tossed the hem of her skirt down with a flick of her wrists and stood to her full height. It pleased her by a small fraction to see that she was several inches taller than Rose. “Fine. I'll just be on my way, then,” she announced. She couldn't remember the last time she'd been so flippantly dismissed, and it made her blood boil with a gross combination of fury and humiliation. Here she was, being treated like a whore again. Nothing had changed. Not in any way that mattered.

Snatching her coat and small handbag, she stalked past Rose to the door. There, Kitty paused, glancing over her shoulder at Liam.

“Button your bloody shirt before sweet, innocent Princess Rose gets a nosebleed,” she snipped. “Unless you plan to have her finish you off.”

【♖】

Rose bristled where she stood. She was sorry. Really she was. Her intrusion had been accidental. Completely without malice or agenda. Still, she was sorry. But she'd had just about enough of Kitty's verbal abuse. Just an ‘errand girl’? Insulting. Finish William off? Appalling. The choice of words if not the implied act. And the suggestion that her relationship with William was based on such vulgar behavior, well, it was simply too much.

Chin held high, Rose turned and met Kitty's cold gaze with her own. “For your information, I'm not a Princess,” she educated the jaded woman. “My father is a Marquess. And in case you're unfamiliar with the structural hierarchy of the peerage, that makes me a Countess.”

Kitty features twisted in a medley of emotions. First shock, then contempt, and finally rage. With a noxious scowl, she said, “I would think a Countess would know how to knock.”

Rose gave her a tight smile. “I would think a secretary would know how to lock a door.”

With a final huff of fury, Kitty turned on her heel and marched from the room.

The sharp bang of the door slamming behind her caused Rose's shoulders to tense.

Oh, lord. What had she done?

The exchange of her parting words with Kitty rang in Rose's ears. As if she hadn't created enough of an issue by walking into the room when she had, now she risked exposure, as well. Her haughty confession may have felt vindicated in the heat of the moment, but Kitty could very well use the information regarding Rose's station against her. Rose knew little about William's secretary, but her sense of entitlement and spiteful nature were clear. A sour sensation took up residence within Rose, heavy in her stomach like a diseased stone.

She approached William's desk and sat down on the sofa, all the while avoiding his eyes. “I should not have said that,” she murmured, more to herself than to him. “I don't know what came over me.”

“Shouldn't have said what?” he asked.

“The bit about being a Countess,” Rose replied, her eyes fixed on the floor. “I let emotion trump discretion. That was foolish.”

William sniffed. “Nah, nothin' to worry about. Kitty won't repeat a word. She knows better. And to be frank, I found it entertaining.”

Rose looked up, surprised. “You did?”

He sniffed again, a little smirk on his face. “Aye. You put her right in her place. She needs that, from time to time.”

Rose's eyebrows elevated toward the ceiling. Several questions that were far too intimate to be queried aloud passed through her mind. “I didn't realize the two of you were courting,” she remarked.

“Courting? Me an' Kitty?” William scoffed. He brought his cigarette to his lips and took a long drag. “We're not doin' any such thing.”

“But...your activities as I entered the room would suggest…”

William made a small flippant gesture. “We fuck on occasion.”

“I see.” Rose frowned. The sour little blossom of jealousy was prickling at her insides again, and she detested it. “So, they're just...liaisons of physicality?” she asked, unable to utter the profane four-letter term William had employed. “Nothing more?”

“Fucking,” he repeated pointedly. “Nothin' more.”

“Does Kitty know that?”

William waved dismissively with his cigarette. “She ought to. Never told her otherwise.”

“I...see.” Rose said again. Her eyes darted away, uncertain what to make of this newly acquired knowledge. His treatment of Kitty seemed exploitatory and selfish. Yet, Kitty must have been aware of the true nature of their relationship. Mustn't she? Perhaps not. Had it only been embarrassment and inconvenience that had caused her venomous reaction to Rose's appearance? She wasn't likely to confess the truth either way.

And why, why, why in the dark recesses of Rose's mind did William's vulgar and blasé remark give her a tiny sliver of shameful happiness?

Her throat suddenly dry, she noticed the glass of clear liquid on the small end table beside the sofa. Grabbing it, Rose downed the contents. She immediately began to cough.

“That's not water,” William commented, too late.

“No— It's not—” Rose gasped between coughs. Her eyes began to sting. “Good lord! Gin?”

“Aye. Gin. My own recipe,” he told her. “Kitty was tasting it for me.”

Rose blinked hard and coughed one final time. “Tasting it. Among other things, I'm sure.”

“Ya want details? 'Bout me and Kitty?” William asked, his tone snide. “Or ya wanna talk about why ya burst in here in the first place?”

“Why I—? What? Oh! Yes,” Rose said, her lack of eloquence causing her to wince. Between her conflicting thoughts, nearly choking on the gin, and the fact that William had still not buttoned up his shirt, she was driven to distraction.

For pity's sake, Rose, keep your eyes on his damn face! she mentally scolded herself.

She cleared her throat and took a couple of slow breaths in the hopes that she simply appeared to be collecting her thoughts.

“Yes,” she tried again. “The reason for my late return.”

He nodded and extinguished his cigarette. “Over the telephone ya called me ‘cousin Henry.’ I took that to mean Gallagher was nearby.”

“Yes, precisely,” Rose said. “I knew you'd work it out. I wanted you to know I'd be late, but I couldn't share the details as to why or address you by name without arousing suspicion.”

“Mmm. 'Course.” He stood from the chair, his fingers nimbly doing up the buttons of his shirt. “And? Where were you tonight?”

Rose tried not to watch. Really, she did. But William Mercer was a man who commanded attention, even when performing the most mundane of tasks. Such as buttoning a shirt. And she imagined his fingers were every bit as talented at unbuttoning a dress.

Focus, Rose! she silently chided.

Employing significant willpower to stay on topic, she answered, “I was at the Lion's Den.”

William's eyes widened slightly in interest. “The Lion's Den? The pub?”

“The very same.”

“Gallagher owns that pub.”

“Yes, he does.”

“They don't allow unaccompanied female patrons.”

“Ohhh, but I wasn't unaccompanied.”

His eyebrows shot up. “That right? Your new boss decide to take ya for a drink after work?”

Rose smirked. William sounded almost jealous. She liked that. “My escort was not Mr. Gallagher, no,” she clarified. “It was Jimmy.”

“Jimmy," William echoed. "The son.”

“The son, yes,” Rose confirmed. “The son, who seems to dislike his father almost as much as you do. And the son who, as it turns out, is quite the chatterbox with a drink in his hand.”

【♜】【♞】【♟】

ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ꜰᴏʀ ʀᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢ!

ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ VOTE! ☆