Page 60

Aoife:Don’t you dare put this on me.If you hadn’t shut me out, none of this would be happening.You started this war the second you decided I wasn’t good enough to stand beside you.

Ruairi:And you’re proving me right every step of the way.This isn’t a game.You’re out of your depth, and you’re going to get people killed.

Aoife:No,you’regoing to get people killed because you refuse to see the bigger picture.

Ruairi:And what’s that, Evie?That you’re some kind of mastermind now?Spare me.

Aoife:Your arrogance is going to destroy us all.

Ruairi:Funny, I was about to say the same thing about you.

The screen blurs under the weight of my fury.My fingers clamp tighter around the phone, rage coiled and simmering just beneath the surface.The urge to throw it across the room and hear its satisfying crack as it hits the wall nearly wins.It takes all my self-control to not get in the car, drive straight back to Belfast, and force him to look me in the eye.Force him to see me not as his sister, not the obedient girl he thinks he can control, but as the woman I’ve become.

But I know better.Ruairi won’t hear me until he’s ready.And right now, he’s too blinded by control, by legacy, by fear of what I might become if he lets go.

So I swallow the fury and let it settle in my bones.

Because when I come for my place, he won’t be able to ignore me anymore.

Aoife:Keep underestimating me, Ruairi.I dare you.

I hit send and slide my cell back into my pocket, my hands trembling with a mix of rage and frustration.Ruairi doesn’t reply.We’re at a stalemate, as always.Even still, something about his silence feels like a victory, however small.

After my shift, I return to the penthouse and find Eamon in his office on the phone.He doesn’t see me right away, giving me a rare opportunity to observe him.He’s leaning against his desk, one hand gripping the edge while the other holds his phone to his ear.His white button-down is wrinkled and untucked.The top few buttons are undone, revealing a hint of his chest.His tie hangs loose around his neck like he gave up on maintaining appearances hours ago.

He looks tired.Stressed.The weight of this war with Ruairi is etched into the tension in his shoulders.His usual controlled demeanor is fraying at the edges.For a moment, I don’t see the unshakable leader but the man beneath who’s carrying more than he lets anyone know.

As if sensing my presence, he turns his head and looks up.The transformation is instant.His body visibly relaxes, and he lets out a breath as if my presence has eased some of the pressure weighing him down.Without hesitation, he raises his hand and motions for me to come in.

The knowledge that Cian is in Eamon’s hotel and that Ruairi is likely involved twists my stomach in knots.I’m not sure how much to tell him or how much he already suspects.But this is Eamon.He’ll see right through me before I even say a word.

As I step into the room, his focus shifts entirely to me, his intense gaze narrows as I approach.Without missing a beat, his voice remains calm yet firm as he speaks into the phone.“I’ll handle it tomorrow.I need to go.”He doesn’t wait for a response before ending the call and setting the phone down on the desk, his full attention now fixed on me.

“What’s wrong?You’re tense.”

“It’s nothing,” I say, but the words sound unconvincing even to me.

“Don’t lie to me, Aoife,” he murmurs, his voice soft but commanding.“What’s going on?”

I hesitate, my teeth worrying my bottom lip as I weigh my words.“One of my brother’s men checked in earlier,” I finally admit.“He says he’s here for a wedding.”

His expression hardens instantly, his jaw tightening as he processes the information.“And you think that’s bullshit?”

“I know it is,” I say, my voice more sure.“He not only works for Ruairi, he’s the man my brother tried to set me up with.Now he just happens to show up here?”

“It’s definitely not a coincidence.If he’s here, he wants something.”Eamon takes a deep breath, his hand sliding up to rest at the small of my back, grounding me.“Did he say anything else?”

“No,” I reply, shaking my head.“He stuck to his story.But it doesn’t sit right.”

He watches me closely, something dark tightening behind his eyes.“What’s his name?”

“Cian O’Leary,” I reply.

His jaw clenches, and he pulls me a fraction closer, his grip possessive but steady.“If he’s here for Ruairi, I’ll deal with him,” he says, voice low and laced with quiet determination.“But if he’s here for you…”

He doesn’t finish.He doesn’t have to.

The threat hangs between us, a promise cloaked in silence.