Dirty Beautiful Rich Part Four (4 page)

“So, the prince turned out to be a frog?” Stella said, slipping a dark green slip dress over her head.

“A gorgeous frog,” piped Kat who was eyeing herself in the full-length mirrors that surrounded them.

Julie groaned. “He is neither prince or frog but a man.”

Stella scowled. “A man that turned out like all the rest.”

“Well, I wouldn’t go that far,” Julie said, picking up a blue dress. “He isn’t exactly ordinary, you know.”

“You’re not defending him?” Kate said, her eyes wide.

“Not exactly,” Julie said. “But he’s not a villain. And I don’t regret a thing. Just think, if it wasn’t for Damian Fitzgerald, we wouldn’t be standing here right now.”

Stella folded her arms across her chest. “Fine. Fine. That’s true. Still, won’t you just let us have a good hate?”

Julie laughed then took a long drink of champagne. “No. Hate gives you wrinkles.”

Kat let out an exaggerated gasp and patted her forehead. “You know, maybe I’ll stay in Ireland forever. There’s no sun, and sun also gives you wrinkles. I bet I’d stay young forever.”

“And grow webbed feet,” drawled Stella. “Its gorgeous but it’s so gray.”

Julie threw herself down onto a brocade chair. “Don’t tell me. I’ve made it through the end of winter here. Depressing. Beautiful but depressing.”

Kat waggled her brows. “Well, tonight, we are going to change all that.”

Julie lifted her glass of champagne. “Fion’s mine.”

Stella’s brows lifted. “My, my. Maybe Damian Fitzgerald isn’t so terrible after all.”

“Why?” Julie asked.

Kat crossed over and hugged Julie. “Because we’ve never seen you so confident or ready to devour a man whole.”

Julie grinned. She had to. She had to move on and Fion seemed like the perfect guy to get over Damian. “Tonight, Dublin had better watch out.”

Kat and Stella applauded.

The words came out of her mouth with ease, but Julie couldn’t deny the pain in her heart. Whether she wanted to admit it or not, she missed Damian. And more than anything, she wished it didn’t have to be the way it was now. But it
was
the way it was. And she was done letting life happen to her.

Julie lifted her glass in salute and her friends joined. “Carpe fucking diem, my friends.”

And she was going to seize this day like never before.

***

T
his time her dress was smoking hot and clearly pricey. Blood red, expensive and perfect for her fuller figure, Julie felt awesome as she tottered in her gorgeous black heels, arm in arm with Stella and Kat over the cobblestones. They’d decided to hit up the Temple Bar area for a few rounds then take a cab to a night spot. The amount of people was insane.

Julie couldn’t help herself from grinning. Everywhere she looked there were women in minidresses with black leggings and shoes so high it was a miracle they didn’t fall flat on their faces. Night time in Temple Bar could give New Orleans a run for its money. Oh and the music blasting from the pubs was fantastic. Not to mention that everywhere she looked there was some sort of street performance going on for crowds of tourists.

The Irish guys were following just behind them, dressed to the nines and clearly having a great time. They’d all had a drink in the hotel bar then headed down Grafton Street on their way here.

Her feet were already killing her. She didn’t know how the Irish women did it. But she wasn’t about to give up. Oh no. She was going to have fun if she died trying.

Stella squeezed her middle. “I can’t believe we’re here!”

Julie smiled. While romantic dreams certainly didn’t come true, some dreams did. Like being in Ireland. “Me either.”

Kat’s smile was so big it positively dazzled. “Thank you for making this possible.”

Julie shook her head. “Don’t thank me. Thank Margaret when you meet her.”

“Damian’s grandmother?” Stella said, her brows rising in surprise.

“That woman has a will of iron and when she decides something it will happen come hell or high water.”

“And she decided we should come?” Stella asked, her face skeptical.

Julie nodded. “Yep. She said I needed a break. I think she felt bad that I wasn’t getting out of the castle, especially after the Damian debacle.”

“God bless, Margaret,” Kat said. “She’s my kind of grandmother.”

“She sure is one of kind,” Julie agreed.

The guys stopped in front of a pub fairly shaking with base. Fion smiled, a gorgeous, easy smile. He gave a slight bow, gesturing towards the packed door.

Julie slipped out of Kat and Stella’s arm hold and strode inside. Fion followed close.

In fact, she could feel his hard chest skim her back as they pressed into the crowd. For the first time that she could recall, she led the way. It was easy. To her shock, people seemed to make way for her, with her head held high and her shoulders back.

She looked fabulous. She knew it and well, the guy behind her was a stunner. Tonight was going to be just what she needed. A night to confirm that she was beautiful. And not just to Damian.

The music wasn’t Irish. It was some sort of fantastic art house rock. She had a funny feeling that if it had been Irish, most of the people in the bar would have been tourists. From the thick almost indiscernible accent, this was a local’s spot even if it was in Temple Bar, the most touristy spot in all Dublin.

Fion slipped a hand to her waist and he leaned it. “You’ll be having a drink?”

Julie nodded, her long curled hair brushing her shoulder. “Gin and tonic.”

She was taking a leaf out of Margaret’s book. There was something about the classic drinks.

In the past she would have stood and waited, hands folded awkwardly or clutching a purse as everyone around her had fun. Not this time. This time she was going to be bold.

She caught sight of Kat and Stella who were sliding through the crowd with Fion’s friends.

Julie waved then headed for the dance floor.

When she turned, waiting for them, she didn’t miss their shocked expressions.

It was all she could do not to laugh. She wanted to shock them. She wanted them to see she wasn’t meek little Julie, afraid of the world. The world was wonderful and full of so much, even if there was pain.

Researching the Fitzgeralds had taught her that. The family had known tragedy after tragedy but they had gone on, never surrendering.

It was a good lesson.

They joined her and then Fion was right behind her again, passing her a drink.

She took it, sipped, then gazed at him from the corner of her eyes. He really was beautiful. Not as beautiful as Damian, or as powerful, but no one ever would be. He would be enough. At least, for now.

***

T
hey were on their fifth club. Julie couldn’t remember a time when she’d been to so many places and she was feeling no pain. She couldn’t even feel her feet. The music, the lights, the company. It was all finally taking her away from painful memories.

They’d grabbed a cab and headed out to a Georgian district, slipping into a place that looked like a townhouse but had a line two blocks long to get in. Fion apparently was good friends with the owner. So not only had they walked right in, they were on the third level in the VIP section of the club.

Apparently, Damian wasn’t the only one with pull.

She shook the annoying thought from her mind.

She wasn’t going to think about him or let him spoil this night.

The music pulsed through the air, and super sleek men and women danced, packed into the dark space as glow lights gave faint illumination.

The whole club breathed sex.

She looked up at Fion who was dancing with confidence and she slipped forward, sliding her arms up his shoulders and around his neck.

He smiled and placed his hands easily on her hips.

It felt wrong. Oh, he was good at the moves, touching her with confidence. That wasn’t the problem.

The hands felt wrong. The shoulders felt wrong.

The eyes.

Fion’s blue eyes looked down at her. Soulful blue eyes.

She longed for eyes that were golden and tigerish.

She danced for a moment then swallowed. She had to get herself together. Going up on tiptoe, she said into his ear, “I’ll be right back.”

He smiled again, he smiled an awful lot, then nodded, the club too loud for any conversation.

Julie wove through the tightly packed dance floor.

She needed air.

Heading down the stairs, she stepped past couples intertwined, leaning against the walls, until she found the hall that led to the front.

The air outside was cold and perfect. It penetrated her fog. She sucked in another breath and stepped out onto the pavement.

The bouncers smiled at her.

She gave them a nod then folded her arms over her chest. People were still waiting to get in and the street was full of cabs and people stumbling along, laughing and shouting. It had to be after two.

Everyone was so happy.

“Julie?”

She blinked. It couldn’t be. That voice. Dark and deep and delicious.

It was the drinks. She’d had one too many and she was imagining things.

A delicious shiver of dread and anticipation, all mixed together, danced through her. Oh god. That voice. It was like her salvation and downfall all at once. She should hate to hear it and yet the thrill she felt was far from hate.

Slowly, she turned. “Hello, Damian.”

He stood, leaning against his Aston Martin, looking absolutely perfect. Looking absolutely like a bastard.

How could he be leaning against his car like he hadn’t just abandoned her and then decided to track her down in the middle of Dublin at a club?

“Did Margaret tell you where’d I’d be?”

Damian stared at her, his tiger eyes hungry. “She mentioned the Shelbourne.”

She frowned. “Did you follow me?”

“Not exactly.”

“Did you have someone follow me?” she challenged.

He was silent then she realized who it had to be.

“I’m going to kill O’Neil.”

“He was worried about you and your friends and the strange men you’re with. So, he followed you with the Bentley in case you needed him. And he called me.”

“Uh huh. The men aren’t strange, first of all. They’re perfectly nice Irishmen. Secondly, my friends and I are capable of taking care of ourselves. And thirdly, why in god’s name do you think this is a good idea?”

At that, his body tensed. He stepped away from the car. The muscles of his throat worked. “I— I needed to apologize.”

She gestured to the crowded street. “Here?”

“I just got to Dublin. I was going to call your room tomorrow but I couldn’t wait.”

“Yes, you could.”

Suddenly she was full of anger. Damian was troubled by his past. She knew it. But that didn’t mean he could do whatever the hell he wanted and he had to learn that.

“You just didn’t want to,” she said firmly. “You may be a billionaire, and you might have paid me a lot of money to be your employee, but you don’t own me and I’m not at your beck and call. Do you understand?”

Damian blinked as if she’d just punched him the gut.

“Julie? Everything okay?”

She glanced back and spotted Fion. He was standing next to the bouncers, keeping back enough to see if she was handling the situation, but clearly ready to bring in assistance.

She raised a hand. “Yes. We’re just finishing up.”

Fion nodded, but he stood waiting.

Damian took a step forward. “I think we should talk.”

“Yes. We should. But not now. Not like this. And Damian, just to be clear, I feel for you, but I can’t let myself have feelings for you. Not anymore. Okay? You’re just too. . .”

“Damaged?” he said, his voice rough.

She took a step forward. Her hard exterior had seemed so necessary. She wasn’t going to let anyone hurt her or use her anymore. But the look in his eyes. Oh god. He looked like a boy. A boy who’d had his whole world yanked away.

She should go to him. She should hug him. But she couldn’t. Not if she was going to be okay herself. So instead, she squared her shoulders and nodded. “Yes, Damian. Too damaged.”

And then she turned and walked away, before he could see the tears slipping down her cheeks and the sobs starting to rack her body.