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Mo órga translated, quite literally, to golden child in Gaelic.
“Athair,” I said. Father in Gaelic.
Ceann beag meant little one in Gaelic,
“Aingeal dian,” he said.
“First of all, my father is a reputable businessman unless proven otherwise.”
“I think you’re talented in a lot of ways. I think you’re funny and stupidly likeable and carry an energy inside you that’s explosive and enviable. You can make anyone feel comfortable around you, and that’s something they don’t teach you at college. You are charming, confident, and could talk your way out of a murder charge. You could probably be very helpful to your father’s company, but maybe not crunching numbers. What about public relations, or—”
“Don’t. Your friend needs to see this one through, or he will never forgive himself. You will not be helping him by stepping into this. If anything, he would never be able to look at you again without remembering how you saved him. He has something to prove here, sweetheart.”
“He’ll be more hurt if you pull him outta there. I can tell you that from seventy-six years of experience. You save his skin now, you kill his ego. One has to go. Bruises heal. Pride, on the other hand…”
In that moment, I wished I’d never laid eyes upon Hunter Fitzpatrick, because I knew with certainty that for all his spoiled ways, corrupted behavior, and obsession with pleasure, he was innately good, loyal, and courageous.
“The door was goddamn open, aingeal dian,”
“Just so we’re clear, you may be my babysitter, but you don’t call the shots. You do not boss me around, you do not make stupid-ass decisions with your body. Finally, you do not fucking hunt me. I’m the hunter here, sweetheart. And you? The goddamn prey.”
I realized with a sinking feeling that I was CT when Hunter was in a sour mood, and aingeal dian when he wanted to cop a feel. God, I hated him.
He said if you love someone, and they love you, there’s no point taking offense in what they say or do to you, because they never mean you harm, anyway. And if you don’t love someone, if you don’t care about them, then there’s no point in taking offense in what they say or do to you, because you don’t care about them. Either way—” “You don’t get offended,”
Words make you or break you. By cursing, you reduce yourself to someone who cannot convey their feelings sufficiently.”
somehow thought he could fling a two-hundred-pound, six-foot-four-inch ex-polo player made of sheer muscle and pheromones.
“Angry angel. Aingeal dian means angry angel.
“Gread leat.” He was now throwing me out in Gaelic.
