Keep Me (Sinful Manor #1)

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Twelve

“Barclay!” I hear the sound of my oldest mate, Liam McNeil, just as the front door opens. He ignores the valet at the door taking jackets, and he comes barreling toward me with a laugh.

“McNeil!” I reply with a wide grin. He throws his arms around me and pounds his fists on my back in a brutal hug.

As we pull away, he grabs my face. “I haven’t seen you in months. You got uglier.”

“I felt bad for taking all the ladies. Had to even the playing field for you.”

He lets out a boisterous laugh. “How kind of you.”

I lead my oldest and closest friend into the sitting room, where a few of our other guests are already waiting. Most of them are coupled. Friends from uni who have all grown up together. We still have the same old parties we had when we were young. They’ve just changed…a little.

The only truly single ones left from the old crew are McNeil and me, but he’s about to learn that I have technically left him as the only stag at the party.

This is the first time my friends have visited since I stopped throwing wild parties. Nearly two years it’s been since then, and already I can feel their eyes and expectations. This won’t be like it was before though, or so I keep telling myself.

What I promised my sister was true. This weekend will not end up like one of those parties.

Sylvie is still up in her room, and I’m starting to get nervous that she’s really not coming. Should I go up there and check on her? I’ll drag her out if I have to.

The rest of my friends greet Liam with enthusiasm as my eyes keep scanning toward the staircase at the foyer, waiting for her to make her way down.

“Let me get you a drink,” I tell Liam as I lead him to the bar.

“Thanks, mate,” he replies. I pour two fingers of Macallan into a glass and pass it to him.

“It’s good to see you again,” he says with a crooked smile before lifting the drink to his lips.

“You too,” I reply.

I notice out of the corner of my eye that Liam’s gaze tracks carefully around the room, but he’s not focusing on the people. It’s almost as if he’s looking for something.

“What are you looking for?” I ask with a chuckle.

“What the hell are you up to tonight? You ain’t got any of that kinky shite going on, do you?”

I nearly spit out my whisky. “I told you already. I’m done with that shit.”

He smiles wickedly. “That’s right. You’re a married man now.” He shakes my shoulders, and I hold up my left hand to display the ring there. After dropping his hands from my shoulders he adds, “But being married doesn’t mean you can’t still be that kinky fucker we once knew.”

“Jesus,” I mutter. He doesn’t understand that I’ve got my family breathing down my neck, threatening to take my house away from me. But I’m not getting into that with him. “For me it does. None of that will be happening tonight. It truly is a quiet weekend getaway.”

“Fair enough,” he replies, putting the glass to his lips. “But if I remember Killian Barclay, then I know a few whiskies in you will get you to do just about anything.”

He lets out a hearty laugh as he slaps a hand on my back. I force a smile in return.

My head perks up at the sound of footsteps on the stairs. I don’t know why my heart suddenly starts hammering in my chest. Maybe because I’m about to introduce my wife to all of my oldest friends. I’ve never done this before.

When Sylvie appears in the room, my jaw nearly hits the floor. In my mind, I was expecting her in her usual style. Black jacket, loose-fitting top, tight jeans, and thick black boots.

But that’s not what she’s wearing tonight. She’s in a thin green dress, deep cut and hanging from her delicate shoulders. Judging by the thin straps and the sight of her perky nipples under the satin, she’s not wearing a bra.

Suddenly, my throat is dry, and my cock gives a twitch.

And I’m glaring angrily at her.

“Fuck me,” Liam whispers. “Is that…?”

As he pauses with his lips against his glass of whisky, I let out a groan.

“That’s my wife,” I say with a disgruntled sigh.

Liam gapes. “Holy shite.”

Just then, Sylvie spots me across the room. Slowly she makes her way toward me, and I notice how miserable and nervous she looks. Her full lips are set in a delicate pout, and her normally fiery eyes are sullen and emotionless.

And it pains me that I won’t be able to call her a heinous bitch all night. I’ll miss the rise it gets out of her.

When she meets me at the bar, she hesitates for a moment. She goes in for an embrace but pulls away nervously. Trying to ease her discomfort, I throw my arm around her shoulders and drag her lithe body to mine.

Sylvie is so much smaller than me. The top of her head doesn’t even meet my chin. She makes me feel like a giant, and touching her even slightly has me worried I’m going to break her.

“Sylvie, darling, this is my old friend Liam McNeil. Liam, this is my wife, Sylvie.”

Liam makes a dramatic show of putting his glass down and turning toward the both of us.

“Killian Barclay, you can make a better introduction than that. This is your wife,” he shouts.

All of the chatter in the room dies, and just like that, all eyes are on us.

Turning Sylvie toward the rest of my friends mingling around the room, I make a proper announcement. “I know you’ve all seen the announcement online and in the paper. I’d like you all to meet my wife, Sylvie Barclay.”

Just then, her face turns up toward mine. Perhaps it’s the sound of her full name now that we’re married. My friends’ reactions are loud and excited, clapping and murmuring to each other.

But I’m too busy staring at her. It’s not like the day of our wedding, when she was still a stranger, and there was nothing in the eye contact between us.

Now, she’s staring up at me with cold, lifeless eyes. It’s the insignificance in her gaze that pains me. As if she doesn’t care about me at all.

I much prefer the hatred.

“Mo ghràidh,” I add so softly no one can hear it but her. I throw in a smirk and a wink.

It causes her eyes to squint angrily and her hands to pinch my sides, struggling to push me away, but I don’t let her move an inch. Instead, I haul her closer and press my lips firmly against hers.

My friends whoop and holler at the show of affection. Sylvie keeps up her struggle, and it only encourages me more.

Without meaning to, I slip my tongue between her lips. She immediately stiffens, letting out the smallest whimper. Instead of pulling away or ending the kiss, I deepen it. This only makes my friends grow louder, urging me on as I scoop her tighter to my body and kiss her with heat and passion.

Our tongues tangle, and our teeth nibble, and somewhere along the way, she stops fighting and simply melts in my arms.

When we finally part, she gives me a fiery wide-eyed stare. Her angry gaze stays affixed to my face as Liam jerks me away and pats me hard on the back.

“Let’s fucking celebrate,” he shouts before the sound of a bottle of champagne popping jerks Sylvie out of her reverie. We’re each forced a flute of bubbly into our hands, and the next thing I know, we’re toasting with my friends.

But I’m in a daze. I’m too focused on her, her reaction, her attitude. Even when she fakes a smile and laughs with my friends’ wives, she hides her discomfort under the surface. I want to drag it out of her.

After the first bottle is gone, I start to worry that this party is off the rails already. Just then, Martha walks into the room and announces that dinner is ready. So the party files into the dining room where the large table has been set with a modern arrangement.

The group mingles around the table, and Sylvie ends up on the end opposite me. It grates on my nerves to have her so far away. We’re supposed to be proving to everyone how in love we are. It’s hard to do that when I can’t even reach her.

Which means it relies on our abilities to talk to and about each other, something we’ve failed at miserably up until now.

We don’t even make it through the first course when one of the wives at the table asks, “So, how did you two meet?”

My gaze flits to Sylvie, who stares back with a challenging expression.

Here goes nothing.

“Well…would you believe this little criminal broke into my house?”

With hooded eyes, she glares at me from across the table.

“Broke into your house?” my friend Greg laughs from the opposite end.

“I did not break in,” Sylvie replies defensively. “The door was unlocked.”

“I was just out of the shower when I heard footsteps on the stairs. I come out to find a beautiful American woman standing in my foyer.”

I catch the way her throat moves when she swallows.

“What were you doing?” someone asks.

“My boyfriend at the time wanted to see something inside the house but was too scared to walk in. I happened to see a woman leaving through the back, so I just…slipped in.”

Holding my glass in my hand, I lean back in my chair. How have we not talked about that day since Sylvie moved in? I completely forgot about the woman who left that morning. I couldn’t remember her name if I tried.

But I sense a hint of jealous pride on Sylvie’s face at the mention of the girl. I like the way it looks on her.

“You just…slipped into someone’s house?” Liam asks with a laugh.

“I knew from that moment I would marry her,” I say proudly from the head of the table.

Sylvie rolls her eyes and shakes her head, biting back her smile. “What he means is he knew from that moment he would trick me into marrying him.”

“They trick us all into falling in love with them, don’t they?” one of the women at the table says with a grin.

Sylvie stares at me. Her bright hazel eyes are all I can see. “I was definitely tricked.”

Everyone laughs, and I join in. I know she’s saying it all for show, and none of this is real. I know deep down she still despises me. It’s fun though. I’ll admit that. To see her coerced into being nice to me. She hates every second, and it brings me more pleasure than anything I’ve ever done. And that’s saying a lot.