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Before Eamon can respond, I step forward, cutting him off.“A man who respects me enough to give me a chance,” I say, my voice steady and firm.“Unlike you.You’ve had every opportunity to let me prove myself, and you refused.”

The room seems to darken, the weight of my words settling heavily between us.Ruairi’s expression twists, and a storm brews in his eyes.

“You have no idea what you’re doing,” he says, his voice low.“You think you’re in control here, but you’re not.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” I reply.“I’m in complete control.”

Ruairi’s voice drops into a growl.“You’re making a mistake, Aoife.A dangerous one.”

“And so are you,” Eamon cuts in, his voice smooth but edged with steel.“You’re in my territory now, Quigley.Tread carefully.”

Ruairi’s glare burns into him for a long moment before he turns back to me.“Fine,” he says, his voice cold.“I’ll leave.For now.But this isn’t over, Aoife.”

His gaze shifts back to Eamon, his tone darkening.“And when I come back, my sister’s coming home with me.”

With that, he storms out, his guards trailing behind him, the air left heavy with his parting threat.

Aoife

The door slams behind Ruairi,the sound reverberating through the room.I force myself to stand tall, staring at the closed door as though I’ve won some kind of victory.But my hands betray me, trembling at my sides, the adrenaline coursing through me refusing to settle.

“You’re shaking,” Eamon says softly.

“I’m fine,” I insist, my tone harsher than I intend, but I don’t turn to face him.I can’t.Not yet.

He steps closer, his presence solid, grounding.“Leave us.”

The command is quiet but absolute.The guards don’t hesitate.Within seconds, the room empties.

Only then do I turn.The sight of his split lip stops me cold.A smear of blood mars his mouth, the edges already bruising.“You’re hurt,” I whisper, stepping forward before I can stop myself.“Your lip?—”

He shrugs like it’s nothing but doesn’t stop me when I slip away, wet a cloth, and return to him.He holds still as I press it gently to his mouth, his eyes never leaving mine.There’s no flinch, no bravado.Just heat and quiet restraint simmering beneath the surface.The cloth falls away, and before I can say anything, his hands are on me, pulling me in.

His warmth wraps around me, steady and sure, and I let myself sink into him.My face presses to his chest.My breath catches as everything I’ve been holding in threatens to break free.

“You were incredible,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against my hair.“Standing up to him like that, refusing to back down.I’ve never been prouder of you.”

“I don’t feel incredible,” I admit, my voice muffled against his chest.“I feel like the walls are closing in.Like I’m running out of space to move.”

He pulls back just enough to tilt my chin up, his piercing blue eyes locking with mine.“That’s because you’re playing a game you’ve never been allowed to play before.You’re not used to holding the power.”

I shake my head, biting my lip.“I don’t want to fight with Ruairi, but I won’t be hidden away any longer.”

Eamon strokes his thumb across my cheek, his voice low but firm.“This isn’t about fighting with him.This is about showing him that the rules have changed.The pendulum swings in your favor now, Aoife.You decide where it stops.”

I stare up at him.“What if I can’t do it?What if I’m wrong?”

“You’re not wrong,” he says with absolute certainty, his hands tightening on my arms.“You were born for this.You’re stronger, smarter, and more capable than he’s ever given you credit for.Your brother doesn’t know how to handle that, but he’s about to learn.”

I swallow hard, leaning into his strength, clinging to his words like oxygen.“I don’t know where to start.”

He studies me for a long beat, then lets out a quiet breath.“After watching Ruairi lose his composure when you said you’d be working for me, I think employing you at the hotel is exactly the right move.”

I glance down, suddenly unsure.“I probably should’ve asked first.I wasn’t trying to speak out of turn.I just…” I trail off, uncertain how to explain the need I felt in that moment to be heard.

“You didn’t overstep,” Eamon says, “You made a move.And it was the right one.”His eyes hold mine.“You already know how to read people, how to listen when others forget you’re in the room.You don’t need training.What you need is a platform, and this gives it to you.”

“But what does it prove?”I ask.“To Ruairi?”