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Chapter 5
Fantasies in Daylight

I barely heard the lively debate happening around me. Even when I felt my lecturer look my way, I could only muster up enough energy to appear mildly interested in what my classmates were saying. Normally I was more than happy to add my voice, but I was too distracted today.

Besides, Dana was holding their own well enough without me anyway. Their voice was steady, their arguments precise and clear, full of facts and figures that always caused their verbal sparring partners to stumble. Others might look at Dana's rainbow coloured hair, bright pink hoodie and youthful face, and wave them off, but I had the feeling they were well on their way to earning a place in politics once they graduated. I still had no idea what it was I wanted to do when my final year was up.

When the lecturer managed to calm everyone down from arguing the pros and cons of Scotland considering a general living allowance, it was to remind us about the dreaded deadline for our final assignment. It was an optional class, covering politics, world news, the vibrantly changing views on gender identity and much more, and it didn't hold much sway over my degree; but besides the fact it would look good on my CV, I wanted to be aware of what was going on in the world because I'd spent years knowing nothing.

Hell, I'd never met anyone like Dana before I'd stepped foot in this class. My parents were well-off, an old family with old money and outdated opinions that I'd never questioned in my youth. Nearly everyone I'd ever come into contact with before Uni came from a similar backgrounds as me, with similar beliefs.

I felt shame to admit I once held their beliefs as my own too.

Until Laura.

She'd made sure I had a reality check when I moved in. She'd shown me the truth of the world we lived in, the beauty in our differences, and made me face up to my own ignorance. In fact, she'd actually been the one to suggest I take this class.

A class I might as well have missed today for all I'd taken in.

I was too busy fiddling with the length of silk hidden in the pocket of my cardigan, the fingers of my other hand absentmindedly brushing over my bottom lip, searching for proof that what happend last night was real. There wasn't so much as a stinging cut, no trace or proof that Taran had been close enough to nip at my lip, never mind draw blood. But he had, and I'd replayed the moment over and over and over again. . . most vividly in bed last night with my eyes squeezed shut and vibrator in hand. . .

What if he'd kissed me instead of that teasing nip? What if he'd done what the look in his eyes had hungered for when I'd glanced, both shocked and aroused over my shoulder at him after he'd spanked me?

The screeching of chairs and the thud of shoes shocked me out of my fantasy.

Good. Class was finally over.

Snapping my notepad shut, I grabbed my bag and escaped the classroom before anyone could stop me for conversation.

Outside the University building hosting mostly politically inclined lectures, students made use of the expanse of lush green grass rolling down towards a small loch glittering like liquid silver under the burning sun. Most students sought shelter from the blistering heat under the sweeping willow trees, while others lay out as if they were having a day on the beach.

I would have loved to join them, to lay out on a blanket and close my eyes, to soak in the rays and work on my tan, but four classes in one day had drained me. I just wanted to get home, collapse on the couch and coorie in for a night of Tele.

The nostalgic sound of a nursery rhyme being blasted from an ice cream van ran through the streets as I made my way home. Every breath was filled with the sweet floral fragrances coming from the colourful flower baskets the council worked hard to maintain. It was the perfect day, my favourite weather, but when I left the busy main streets to head towards the more residential area of the city, a cold shadow fell over me.

Stopping on the middle of the empty road, I glanced up at the sky expecting to see a cloud hiding the sun, but it was as blinding as before, and the sky a clear cerulean blue with not so much as a candyfloss streak of cloud in sight.

I moved in a small circle, searching every corner, every window and parked car for whatever was making the hair on the back of my neck prickle.

There wasn't a soul in sight.

So why did I feel like I was being watched?

Swallowing, I clutched my bag tighter and quickened my steps, keeping an ear and eye out for any sign of being followed. Nothing. Not so much as a passing car, and yet alarm bells rang in my head, an instinctual voice screaming for me to run.

The warning was so primal that I didn't think before my body obeyed. Even in a blind panic, thoughts racing, I managed to take the right streets to make a beeline for the small corner shop close to my flat. I barrelled my way inside, the bell overhead jingling erratically as I immediately slammed it shut behind me. The older man behind the register looked up to smile in greeting only to frown at the look on my face.

"Are you alright?" he asked, his lilting accent soft with concern as his gaze moved over my shoulder to the door.

"A wasp was following me," I lied with a sheepish smile.

He nodded with a chuckle. "Aye, wee bastards."

I managed to force a laugh.

Whatever had gotten a hold of me, I didn't feel it anymore. Safe in the company of the shop owner and the three other customers strolling up and down the small aisles, I decided that if someone had been following me, they had probably given up. There was certainly no sign of anyone coming in after me, and looking out the window gave me a clear view of a completely empty street.

"I really must be exhausted," I muttered, shaking my head at my own antics.

Sliding out my phone, I text Laura to let her know I'd be home in five and was picking up snacks. She text back in seconds with a list of things she wanted. It was a good thing I finally got this month's student payment, and the money from the hours I'd worked during my first shift at The Blackbird had been waiting in my account this morning just as Taran had promised. It wasn't yet enough to live on by far, but enough I could at least pay for some of our messages.

Swiping hair from my face, I perused the aisles and made sure to pick up everything Laura asked for.

Junk food was something my mother had been strict on. I was never allowed fizzy drinks, unless it was champagne or cider of course. Chocolate was a weekend treat, and the only crisps we ever had were low-fat ones with the consistency and taste of a cardboard box. Freedom in living independently meant I could grab whatever I liked, but I knew I would feel guilty afterwards. I'd hear my mother's scolding voice in my head warning me that a woman of our pedigree should always watch her figure. So a punnet of strawberries and some orange juice was thrown into my basket too.

Pride at being able to pay for everything myself chased away the last of my frazzled nerves.

The streets were busier when I got back outside. Teens walked home from their last day of school, laughing and shoving each other around while parents with younger primary and nursery aged kids did their best to avoid the hyper rabble.

Arms full of shopping bags, I had to fight to get my keys from my pocket as I climbed the stone steps to my flat.

"Honey, I'm home!" I sang, shutting the door with my foot before heading to the kitchenette attached to the living room.

I set the bags down on the breakfast bar with a humph, blood rushing back to my fingers in tingles.

Laura sat cross legged in front of the couch with one of her sketchbooks perched against it, the strokes of the pencil too light for me to make out what she was working on.

"Hey, how was Uni?" she asked, smudging something in the corner of the pad.

"Och, the usual. How was your day?"

The rustle of sweeties as I unpacked caught her attention, and she put down her pad and pencil to come skipping over.

"It was good! I got to sleep in and. . ." her brows pinched, gaze dropping to something by my hip.

The sly minx had her fingers in my cardi pocket, swiping out the swathe of black silk, before I even realised what had stopped her in her tracks.

Recognition glittered in her eyes as she studied the blackbird crest on one end of the silk material. I expected her to tease me, but there was no amusement on her face when her questioning gaze flicked back to me. In fact, she paled and swallowed, holding the silk at arms length between finger and thumb as if scared to touch it.

"Do you know what this is?" she hissed, her gaze becoming accusatory. "You told me you and Taran talked business for a bit in his office and then you left. This is much more than a work meeting, Sorcha." Her voice rose in pitch, icy eyes frantically searching mine. "Did he tell you what it means? Why would he give this to you?"

Tugging the silk back from her, I crumpled it up and shoved in my back pocket, trying to play it off with a shrug. "He said it'd help keep people's hands off me while I work. I forgot I even had it. Do you want to put the TV on? I'll get a bowl for the popcorn."

"Oh no you don't. I want the truth, Sorcha."

I stilled, then sighed and propped my hip on the table. "It's not whatever you think. Some guy showed up while I was speaking with Taran last night, he called me fair game. After he left, Taran gave it to me and explained the choker is a way of proving I'm not, that I work for him so shouldn't be messed with. That's all, really."

"Idiot!" Laura fumed, slapping her hand against the table top. "You get everything ready, I'll be back in two ticks. I need to make a phone call."

She continued to mutter and curse all the way to the front door which slammed shut behind her.

Rooted to the spot, I could only ponder at her reaction. I should have taken it as another warning, another red flag to ward me off from working at The Blackbird, but I didn't have the energy to guess at whatever was going on after the long day I'd had. It still came down to the fact that I needed money, I had rent to pay. I could always keep searching for another job and if things got to messy I could quit without worrying about spending another six months uselessly hunting for a job.

Although. . .should I have mentioned to Laura that I thought someone was following me home? Was it more than a overactive imagination? What if it had something to do with Frank?

Wandering over to the window with a bowl of popcorn in hand, I scanned the street for anything out of place. Someone out of place. Kids were playing kerby with a nearly flat football, a family were washing their car but getting most of the soapy water on each other. I recognised every face as a neighbour. I even recognised the delivery driver leaving parcels at the door across the street for Mrs Jenkins.

"Y'okay?"

I turned to Laura with a smile, but it was probably as believable as the one she gave me in return.

"Are you? Why are you upset Taran gave me something I've seen some of the other staff wear?"

Including her, or at least a variation of it. Laura's purple swathe of silk lacked the Blackbird embroidery, and she styled it as a bracelet as much as a she did a choker, but she always had it on her in some form when she went to work.

She made a face at my questions and shuffled across the room to collapse on the couch, picking up the buttons to turn on the TV. When I didn't move to sit next to her, she rubbed her face and answered, "Nothing, I'm not upset. Mac told me, in detail, what happened with Frank. I get what Taran was thinking giving you a mark." She patted the spot next to her. "I'm sorry for freaking out. I just didn't think Taran would give you the job, never mind. . .well. . .Never mind. I am pissed nobody told me about Frank though."

"Yeah, he was. . .creepy. Gave me the heebie jeebies so much I convinced myself I was being followed home today."

Something flashed across Laura's face, brows pinching together as her lip curled up onto almost a grimace.

"Fat chance it was him in broad daylight," she muttered, lifting her phone to tap away at the screen in a way that made me feel I did indeed have reason to worry.

I perched on the couch next to her, relaxing a little as she looked up and said, "I'll walk with you next time. If we see him, we'll call the Poileas and they'll deal with him. If Taran's given you his, um. . ."

"Mark," I offered despite finding the term unusual. Surely it was more of a retro staff badge.

"Exactly. If he's given you his mark, then Frank would be stupid to go near you. It'd be breaking the rules."

Twisting onto one knee, I narrowed my eyes at her. "What rules? Taran swore it wasn't, but I'm asking you, and I want the real answer; it's not a gang thing, is it?"

"Not if you'd call family drama a gang thing." She cringed as soon as she spoke, nearly toppling the bowl of popcorn all over the couch as she went stiff. "Shit, don't tell anyone I said that."

I gaped. "Frank's related to Taran?"

Hesitating, she glanced around as if someone might be listening, going so far as to lower her voice as she finally offered, grudgingly at that, "Not Frank, no. Who he works for."

Of course. I should have spotted it.

"Gwydion," I murmured, lowering myself back against the couch, only to sit up again as a light bulb went off in my head. "An Toiseach, is that like a family business? But Taran's struck off on his own with the pub?"

Pale blue eyes studied me like I'd started licking the windows, and I thought I was well off with my guess until a small, rough laugh left her lips. "How do you do that? I swear I could sit you in front of a complete stranger and you could Sherlock Holmes their entire life story from one conversation and a good look at them."

But I couldn't figure out my best friend's job or what was happening in the back of my own workplace.

"So I'm right?"

"As right as you can be." She leaned forward to pick up the buttons again to put on this week's episode of Yellowjackets. It was clear she didn't want to talk about it anymore, but when the opening credits started to blast from the speakers, she turned to me again. "I mean it when I say don't tell anyone what I've told you. If Taran finds out, he'd have Mac deal with me."

Squeezing her hand, I hoped my expression was earnest as I said, "I won't, I promise. Never mind Mac giving you shitty shifts in retaliation, Taran would. . ."

A muscle in my thigh twitched, my body remembering the explosion he'd set off inside when he'd spanked me for being late. Actually spanked me, then dismissed me like I was a disobedient child. It had enraged me. I'd glared at him over my shoulder but couldn't get my legs to steady enough beneath me to risk removing my hands from the desk, forget trying to storm out. Impossibly dark eyes had darkened further, like his pupils had swallowed the colour, and the light from the lamp caused a sheen of silver to ripple over them.

One step with his hand slightly raised was enough for me to tear my gaze from his and stumble away. It had taken me three tries to turn the door knob, and when I managed to wrench it open, I was stopped with one, smug coated word.

"Goodnight."

Clearing my throat, I hadn't recognised the husky whisper that left my lips. "Goodnight, Sir."

The smirk I got in return nearly turned my legs to jelly again. Finally he had looked without the usual edge that made me feel he found something lacking. He'd looked nearly pleased. Like a cat who'd finally gotten a lick of cream.

Shifting on the couch, I pressed my legs together to ease the growing ache, and brushed my hair over my shoulder in attempt to cool down flushed skin.

"Sorcha? Taran will what?" Laura prompted, a bemused smile stretching her lips.

"Fire me. He'd probably fire me. So my lips are sealed."