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Once we’re seated, the conversation flows easily.At least on the surface.Cian orders a bottle of wine without asking for my opinion, a bold move that feels in line with everything about him.I don’t comment.Instead, I pretend to study the menu as he shifts the topic back to the hotel.

“So,” he says, leaning back in his chair, his tone casual but his attention focused.“Do you know much about the owner of this place?”

I glance up, feigning mild curiosity.“The hiring manager mentioned it,” I lie smoothly.“Éanna, Eirnin, or something like that.Why?”

His lips curl into a small, knowing smirk.“You’re working here, staying here, and you don’t know who signs the checks?”

I shrug, my eyes returning to the menu.“Not everyone’s as suspicious as you.Besides, everything’s direct deposit these days.I don’t even see a physical paycheck.”

Before he can respond, the server arrives with the wine, presenting the bottle with a flourish.Cian nods in approval, and they pour a small taste for him to try.He swirls it expertly before taking a sip, his expression shifting to one of satisfaction.

“This will do,” he says, gesturing for the server to pour.

The wine is rich and velvety, its warmth lingering on my tongue as I take a sip.The server lingers just long enough to take our orders before disappearing, leaving us alone once more.

Cian leans forward slightly, resting his elbows on the table, his expression suddenly more serious.“You don’t find it strange that this hotel, with this particular owner, just happened to hire you?Seems like an odd coincidence, don’t you think?”

I raise a brow, pretending to fumble slightly.“I’m not sure I follow.What’s so strange about it?”

He watches me closely as if waiting for me to slip.“The owner,” he says slowly, as though revealing a secret.“Eamon O’Sullivan.Does that name ring any bells?”

I tilt my head as though trying to place it.“Eamon?”I echo, dragging out the name like I’m racking my brain.“That might be the name she said.Why does it matter?”

Cian chuckles, clearly enjoying my act of cluelessness.“Eamon O’Sullivan is your brother’s enemy.They’ve been at war for months now.You really didn’t know?”

I widen my eyes, putting on a perfect show of surprise.“Why would I,” I ask, shaking my head.“You worked for my father and now my brother.You know as well as I do that I’ve never been involved in that side of things.”

He leans back, clearly pleased with himself, and takes another sip of wine.“Well, now you know.And maybe now you’ll understand why I find it interesting that you’re working here.You can’t tell me it’s a coincidence, Aoife.”

I force a dry laugh, waving my hand dismissively.“You’re overthinking this.My brother doesn’t tell me anything.He thinks I’m too weak to handle any of it,” I say, letting frustration creep into my tone.“I didn’t even know this guy existed until just now.Honestly, I don’t care what Ruairi and Eamon are fighting about.Let them sort it out.It’s not my problem.”

My nonchalance seems to convince him, his shoulders relaxing as he nods.“Fair enough,” he says, lifting his glass in a toast.“To new beginnings and whatever trouble they bring.”

To new beginnings,” I echo, with the faintest smile, clinking my glass against his.

Throughout dinner, I put on a show, laughing at his jokes, leaning in just enough to keep his attention, and letting my gaze linger on him a moment too long.By the time we finish, I can tell he’s hooked, convinced that I’m nothing more than a bored, sheltered woman trying to escape her brother’s shadow.

As we walk back toward the elevators, his hand once again finds the small of my back, his touch even more possessive this time.He leans in, his voice low.“Come to my room for a drink.”

I pause, letting just enough hesitation show to make it believable.Then I smile.“Sure.Why not?”

Even as I say it, I can already picture Eamon’s reaction when he finds out.He’s going to lose his mind.But I’ll deal with that later.Right now, I have a role to play, and I’m going to play it perfectly.

Eamon

The security feedglows on the screen in the penthouse, giving me a perfect view of the restaurant.Aoife sits across from Cian, her posture relaxed, her smile easy, and her movements deliberate.She’s playing her part flawlessly, but watching it unfold twists a knife in my chest.

Cian leans closer, his body language screaming flirtation.His hand brushes hers, his smile practically dripping with charm.I can’t hear what they’re saying, but I don’t need sound to know he’s laying it on thick.And her?She’s letting him, keeping him hooked.It’s part of the plan, but it doesn’t make it any easier to watch.

I sit back in the chair, forcing my hands to stay loose on the armrests instead of curling into fists.The key to control is restraint, and I’ve mastered that.Or so I thought.Because right now, every muscle in my body is coiled tight, screaming for me to storm down there, stake my claim, rip her away from him, and end this game entirely.

Movement catches my eye as they leave the restaurant together, his hand resting low on her back.My eyes are glued to the screen as they walk to the elevators.The anticipation builds as I watch the doors close, knowing she’ll be safe in the penthouse in just a few minutes.

I follow their ascent, not missing how Aoife looks up at the camera, knowing I’m watching.The elevator stops, the doors open, and they both step out on his floor.

Sitting forward, I release a low growl as I stare at the screen.My mind races, trying to piece it together.“What the hell are you doing, Aoife?”I ask aloud as I switch to the view of the corridor.

They stop outside his room, and I watch the scene play out.Cian holds his room card against the digital lock.She’s going to his room.My fists clench, and the familiar cold anger starts to bleed into my veins.