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“Yes,” she says, her voice firmer now.“I’m fine.Go on.”

Still, he lingers, clearly unsure whether he should leave her alone with me.Wise.

I force a polite smile, though it’s the last thing I feel.“She said she’ll be along shortly.”

After a long pause, Shane nods reluctantly.“Okay.I’ll see you inside.”He shoots her one last questioning look before walking away.

The moment he’s gone, I take her by the arm.“We need to talk,” I say, my voice low and controlled.

“Eamon—”

“Now.”

I steer her into the nearest empty room, my grip firm but deliberate.The door clicks shut behind us.Without hesitation, I reach back and turn the lock.The sound reverberates between us like a thunderclap.

The room is small, lit only by a single desk lamp in the corner.An oak desk sits against one wall, cluttered with papers and a closed laptop.Shelves line the walls, filled with ledgers, books, and binders.It smells faintly of leather and dust.The air is thick with tension that crackles between us.

Aoife backs up instinctively, her shoulders meeting the wall.Her wide eyes dart to the door, then back to me.She isn’t afraid.That’s not her.But she’s uneasy, and she should be.

“What the hell are you doing?”she snaps, her voice sharp, though I catch the slightest tremble underneath.

“What amIdoing?”I growl, stepping closer, my voice low and unforgiving.“I should be asking you the same thing.”

Her chin lifts, defiance flashing in her eyes even as her chest rises and falls too quickly.“I told you.I’m here for a party.”

“And that guy?Shane,” I say, his name dripping from my lips like venom.I take another step, closing the distance between us pinning her with my gaze.“Who the hell is he?And why are you here with him?”

She hesitates, her lips parting as if to answer, but nothing comes.Her gaze drops momentarily before she looks back up to meet mine.

“It’s nothing,” she says finally, her voice softer now, almost pleading.

“Nothing?”I echo, my tone razor-sharp.I plant my hands on the wall on either side of her, caging her in.“Try again,Aoife,” I say, testing out the feel of her real name.

She flinches slightly but doesn’t argue.Doesn’t deny it.That silence, that damned silence, is the final straw.

I lean in and kiss her, hard and unforgiving, pouring every ounce of my frustration, fury, and longing into it.She gasps against my lips, the sound both soft and sharp, and then she kisses me back.Her hands clutch at my shirt, her fingers curling into the fabric like she’s trying to hold herself together.

It’s still there.That undeniable pull between us.

When I finally break away, we’re both breathing hard.

“Who is he?”I demand.“And who the hell are you really?”

She presses her palms against my chest, not to shove me away but to create space, to anchor herself.“It’s a long story,” she says, her voice trembling.

I nod, brushing a strand of hair from her face.“We’ve got all night.”

Her eyes widen, but she holds her ground.“If I don’t check in with my friend Erin, she’s going to worry.I don’t know what Shane’s already told her.”

“Fine,” I say, stepping back, my voice tight with barely restrained anger.“Let’s go.”

“You’re coming with me?”she asks, her voice edged with disbelief.

“I’m not letting you out of my sight again,” I reply, my tone low and resolute, leaving no room for argument.

Opening the door, I gesture for her to lead the way.

We walk into the party that’s humming with energy and laughter.Chatter fills the room as plates of cake are already being passed around, the sweet scent mingling with the buzz of celebration.From across the crowd, Shane leans toward Erin, nudging her arm and murmuring something.Her gaze follows his, and when she spots us, her expression shifts to confusion.