Chapter 71

The kiss on the lips from Siobhan had been a surprise, as had the insistence that Sinead needed to text her the next day. The hockey player - whose name still evaded Sinead - had decided to gracefully bow out of the poker tournament, abandoning his chips in favour of taking his girlfriend home to satiate her tipsy lust.

“You seemed friendly with her,” Marc said, standing close to Sinead as they both sipped on fresh glasses of wine. It was fragrant and fruity and Sinead knew she didn’t really need another glass, but Marc had presented it to her so she’d taken it. She didn’t respond right away because she was focused on the feeling of Marc’s hand on her back, pressing through her blouse, and how it felt. “Sinead?”

“Mm,” she grunted softly, then looked up at him. “Siobhan is ... bright. And lovely. I could see being friends with her, though I don’t think that exactly makes sense considering I’m supposed to be ... you know.”

“Ah,” Marc nodded slowly. “Well, I could see why that would cause a hesitation.”

“Yeah,” Sinead said. She was ‘undercover’ using her real first name. To be fair, the connection likely wouldn’t even be made, but ‘wouldn’t likely’ wasn’t something to bank on.

“Still, you’ve only ever talked about Jules as someone you spend time with,” Marc said. “And you could likely do worse for a new friend.”

“Because your friendship has gone so awry?” Sinead challenged him a little, smirking and raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, ma petite rebelle,” Marc sighed, giving her that damn smile. “Friends seems so strong, and yet so weak, to describe us.”

Sinead shook her head, still smirking. He wasn’t wrong. They really barely knew each other; she couldn’t say they were ‘dating’ or ‘seeing each other’ really. What they were doing wasn’t romantic. Well, not in a relationship sense.

But then there was the way he made her feel...

“Have you found anything out?” Sinead asked quietly, pivoting the conversation. They had stepped away from the bar so they weren’t in the thick of things, and she spoke softly but without whispering so that her voice wouldn’t sound out of place to anyone else and could just blend into the other conversations in the room.

Marc raised an eyebrow. “More than we already have? No, I don’t believe so. There isn’t much small talk over the table. Unless you’re interested in who seems to be having issues with each other.”

Sinead hesitated then shook her head. “Your thoughts on that later would be fine. The real question is what he does-”

“Marc,” the older woman who was playing at Marc’s table said, coming over. Sinead immediately got a sense of fierce personality from her even though she was easily over sixty and walked with a cane. One of the two big Samoan men was standing deferentially behind her and holding her purse. “Please introduce me to this lovely young woman sharing your arm this evening.”