Page 71 of Bedazzled
“It was important to the O’Connell Clan, the new owners of the Liberties District Distillery, to introduce a unique distillation that will reclaim the prestige that Irish whiskey has always been famous for on the international stage.”
“Tell me more about the flavors,” Marie prodded.
“The O’Connell Collection ultra-rare whiskey was taken from a single barrel, a 40I PedroXiménez cask. It is deep treacle in color, and-”
“Excellent!” There was applause from the doorway and we turned to find that elusive son of a bitch O’Rourke, smiling and clapping in a paternal fashion like I was a sixth grader at my ballet recital. “Well done, dear. And the resemblance to Maureen? Uncanny.”
“Thank you, Nolan.” I managed to keep my voice under a shriek. “May I speak with you for a moment?”
“Of course.” He looked at me politely, hands folded. All the women in the room also looked at me.
“Um… somewhere else?”
He never took his eyes off me. “Ladies?” They all scooted out of the room instantly and silently. It was a little creepy.
Folding my arms stubbornly, I shook my head. “I’m not a master of international intrigue, like you, but you’ve been playing with me since I stepped on your magnificent, ‘I’m such a billionaire’ jet with the big throne chair.”
Even his frown was pretty. “Are you unhappy because I didn’t send my best jet?”
“What?”
“I was using my primary jet, so it wasn’t available, I fear.”
Now I was distracted. “You think I would be unhappy because I was using your second-best jet?”
“Well, my second-best jet was in France. I was craving some lovely little croissants made by a bakery in-”
“You sent your second-best jet to France for baked goods?” I might have been laughing a little too hard, but I was so wound up, it felt good to find something ridiculous instead of terrifying. “Hey, it’s your world, we all just live in it. Please help me understand. What is the plan here? Do you really think I can pull off impersonating a whiskey expert? And why? What are you really expecting me to do tonight? Because it’s not chattering about the ‘slight tobacco backdrop and silky-smooth cherry notes.’”
O’Rourke’s eyes had gone the color of frozen earth. “I expect you to play your role. I expect you to be convincing.”
It felt like the room temperature just plunged fifty degrees.
“Do I really look like this Maureen Ryan?” I kept my voice steady; I wouldn’t let this eccentric, rich creep intimidate me. “How is my taking her place benefitting you?”
“Because this will be a legendary night for the O’Connell Distillery,” he said, his smile chilly enough that I really wish he hadn’t bothered. “You need to be my eyes and ears. My toast will be the third, and after that, you have fulfilled your obligation to me.”
He turned me briskly enough that I let out a yelp, looking into the mirror. It was over the top huge with a thick gold-leafed frame. “Look at yourself.”
The red wig was cut in a long bob with heavy bangs, which matched the makeup spackled onto my face. “If I smile, I’m going to crack this foundation wide open,” I mumbled. The stylist had tried to wedge blue contact lenses on my eyeballs, but I wrestled the case away from her and did it myself. They made my eyes water and itch.
“We’ll use this pair,” O’Rourke said, handing me some scholarly-looking glasses with black frames. “There is a camera in the eyewear so we can see what’s happening and a mic in your lapel pin.”
“What…” I shook my head, more confused than ever. “What am I looking and listening for?”
He smiled over my shoulder at our reflection. “I will know when you see it.” He had his hands on my shoulders, long fingers and nicely manicured. I stepped away from him, which seemed more polite than swatting them off me.
“You’re putting me in the middle of Yuri and Maksim’s operation,” I pushed a little harder for answers, “this could endanger my husband if he gets distracted.”
O’Rourke shrugged. “You’re unrecognizable, darling. He won’t even know you’re there. Play your part and I’ll pluck you out before there’s any unpleasantness.”
“So something terribleisgoing to happen tonight,” I said, my lips numb.
He tilts his handsome head, considering it. “Possibly.”
“Are you bipolar?” I demanded, “Is that the real issue here?”
Even his shrug was elegant. “Oh, I’ll be taking your phone and laptop. You won’t need them.”
