Page 12

What does happen next?

Aoife

The table isladen with far too much food, but the sheer absurdity of it has sparked an ease between us.Eamon seems at home in this setting, leaning back in his chair as he casually picks at a croissant, his movements relaxed, almost lazy.

I, on the other hand, can’t seem to settle.My plate is half full, my coffee barely touched, and I find myself hyperaware of every glance he throws my way.

“So, this traveling of yours,” he says, breaking the silence.“Is it always solo?”

“Mostly,” I reply, spearing a piece of fruit with my fork.“I like the freedom.No schedules to follow, no one to answer to.”

His brow arches slightly, the ghost of a smirk tugging at his lips.“Sounds lonely.”

I shrug, keeping my tone breezy.“Not really.It’s liberating, actually.I go where I want when I want.”

It’s not a lie, not exactly.But the truth, therealtruth, is buried beneath layers I have no intention of uncovering.

“What about you?”I ask, deflecting the attention back to him.“Does the hotel business keep you tethered to one place, or do you get to travel, too?”

“Usually, I stay in one place,” he says, his tone giving nothing away.“This trip turned out to be a good excuse to mix work with a little pleasure.”

His deliberate vagueness is frustrating.“Sounds convenient.”

“You could say that.”

Silence stretches between us, thick and humming with something neither of us names.The waves outside lap gently against the villa, a soft rhythm that only makes the charged quiet feel louder.His eyes are on me.I can feel them.Watching.Waiting.Wanting.

I shift in my seat, suddenly too aware of the silk clinging to my skin, of the lingering taste of strawberry on my lips.My tongue darts out to catch a drop of juice at the corner of my mouth, and when I glance up, I find his gaze hasn’t moved.

The question pounds in my mind, unrelenting, until it spills out before I can stop it.“What are we doing?”

His gaze sharpens, and he leans back slightly in his chair, studying me with that unreadable expression that I’m beginning to recognize as his default.“Enjoying ourselves,” he says smoothly.“Isn’t that enough?”

Itshouldbe.Ithasto be.Because I’m not interested in anything more.I have plans—plans that don’t involve entangling myself with a man.

My focus is on something far more important.Proving to my father that I’m more than just the Quigley family’s untouchable daughter.That I’m capable, ruthless, and worthy of stepping into the Syndicate he refuses to let me touch.

A relationship doesn’t fit into that picture.Love doesn’t fit into that picture.And yet, as I sit here with Eamon’s dark, penetrating gaze fixed on me, I can’t help but feel like I’m teetering on the edge of something I can’t control.

“Maybe it is,” I say, shrugging as if I’m as unaffected as he is.But the flutter in my chest betrays me, and I can’t help but wonder if he notices.

His lips curve into a smile, but it’s softer this time, almost teasing.“So, what do you say, Eve?No strings.No questions.Just this.”

The idea is tempting.Too tempting.And I hate how much I want to say yes.I search for any cracks in the calm mask he wears.If he feels the pull between us as strongly as I do, he doesn’t let it show.

“Just this,” I agree, my tone firmer now.

“Good,” he says, leaning forward slightly, his eyes locking onto mine with a fierce, unrelenting intensity.“Because I’m not done with you, Eve.Not even close.”

Something tightens low in my belly, but my face stays unreadable.

“Who said I’d let you walk away?”

The air between us feels lighter now, the tension shifting into something less daunting and more thrilling.I take a sip of my coffee, the warmth grounding me, even as my mind races with questions I know I’ll never ask.

“So,” I say, tilting my head, my voice light and teasing.“What’s next on the agenda?”

His smirk returns, a spark of mischief lighting his eyes.“Oh, I have a few ideas.”