Page 62

Eamon doesn’t speak at first.Just studies me with that stormy quiet I’ve learned to recognize as anything but calm.

“If he so much as lays a finger on you,” he growls, eyes dark, “I’ll bury him myself.”

“I’m not letting him do anything,” I reply.“I’m controlling the narrative.”

He steps closer, not touching me, not yet, but close enough that I feel the heat of his restraint.“Just remember who you belong to when this game ends.”

“I don’t belong to anyone,” I say, though my voice softens around the edges.“But I’ll always choose you.”

For a moment, silence hangs between us, heavy with unspoken words.Eamon’s hand brushes my arm before trailing down to take my hand.“You’re not in this alone,” he murmurs, his voice low and laced with meaning, “You have me and my Syndicate behind you.”

“I know.”With that, I slip out of his grasp and head for the door, feeling his gaze on me the entire way.The air feels heavier with every step, but I don’t stop.If Cian’s here to stir trouble, I’ll find out, and I’ll make damn sure he regrets it.

Aoife

The low humof conversation and clinking glasses greet me as I step into the hotel bar.The warm glow of pendant lights reflects off polished wood.The faint scent of whiskey and hops lingers in the air.

I spot Cian immediately.He’s nursing a whiskey at the far end of the mahogany bar.He looks effortlessly at ease, his dark suit crisp despite the late hour.A glass of whisky sits in front of him, half empty.My heels click against the floor as I make my way across the room.

He glances up as I approach.“Well, this is unexpected,” he says, a slow smile spreading across his lips as I slide onto the stool beside him.

“Is it?”I ask lightly, catching the bartender’s attention with a wave of my hand.“I figured you might be here.”

His brow arches, curiosity dancing in his expression.“What gave me away?”

I don’t answer immediately, instead ordering a Guinness.A choice that earns me an approving nod from the bartender and a chuckle from Cian.

“Aoife Quigley, drinking a Guinness,” he says, leaning back slightly, his eyes lingering on me.“I never would’ve guessed that’d be your drink of choice.”

I let a smile tug at my lips as I angle my body toward him.“And you?Whiskey, I assume?Neat because you like to keep things simple.”

His grin widens.“You already have me figured out.”

“Do I?”I ask, tilting my head slightly, feigning innocence.

“So, tell me, what brings you here?”he asks, his tone light.But the calculating intensity in his eyes tells me he’s assessing everything.“It’s a long way from the protective reach of your family.”

I shrug, taking a sip of my beer before answering.“I have some friends in the area, and honestly, I needed some breathing room from my brother’s overbearing drama.”

Cian lets out a low laugh, shaking his head.“Let me guess, Ruairi isn’t exactly thrilled with letting you make your own decisions.”

“He’s convinced he knows what’s best for everyone.It’s exhausting,” I say, rolling my eyes for effect.“I had to get away before he smothered me completely.”

“And you picked this hotel?Out of all the places you could’ve gone?”

“A friend invited me to a party here,” I say, crafting my lie with ease.“While I was here, I saw a hiring notice.Figured I’d take a chance and apply.I didn’t think I’d actually get the job, but they hired me right away.They even included my room as part of the package.”

Cian’s expression is thoughtful, but I can see the hint of skepticism in his eyes.He doesn’t trust coincidences, and neither do I.

“Interesting,” he says, his tone measured.“Sounds like you’ve landed on your feet.”

“Luck, I guess,” I reply with a slight shrug, taking another sip of my beer.

He studies me for a moment longer before setting his glass down.“Let me buy you dinner,” he says, his voice smooth.“I’m afraid we didn’t get off on the right foot last time we shared a meal.”

I pretend to hesitate, glancing toward the restaurant before nodding.“Sure, why not?”

As we stand, he places a hand on the small of my back, guiding me toward the restaurant with a possessive ease that sets my nerves on edge.I let him, though, leaning into the act, playing my part.His touch is firm, deliberate, as if staking a claim.