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I don’t trust him.Not for a second.He’s dangerous, and we both know he’s not here by accident.Even without evidence, I know Ruairi’s hand is in this.Cian is a pawn, and Ruairi sent him here to test her.To test me.

Every instinct I have screams at me to act, to go down there and rip the door off its hinges.But I know I can’t step in.This is about Aoife and the Syndicate she should be leading.I have to let her handle this.

Tension drives me to my feet, the phone gripped tight as I start pacing the room.If I can’t go to her, I’ll make damn sure she’s protected.I call my head of security in the hotel, barking orders.“I want at least two men on Cian O’Leary’s floor immediately.Keep them discreet, but I want them stationed near his room.Now.”

“Yes, sir,” he replies.

“If anything happens, you call me.Immediately.”He barely manages a response before I hang up and dial Seamus.“What’s the update on the Callahan situation?”I snap, not bothering with a greeting.

There’s a pause on the other end before Seamus rattles off information about the latest skirmish.I’m only half-listening.My thoughts are still on Aoife.

“Eamon,” Seamus says cautiously, clearly picking up on my mood.“Is something else going on?”

“No,” I snap, cutting him off.“Just handle the Callahan’s.Do your damn job, and stop questioning me.”

He hesitates again, and I can hear the tension in his voice when he speaks.“Alright, but you seem?—”

“Enough,” I say, my voice low and dangerous.“I don’t need commentary.Get it done.”

Before he can respond, I hang up, tossing the phone onto the desk.The walls of the penthouse feel like they’re closing in around me.It’s too quiet despite the storm raging inside me.I force myself to sit, to review reports, to occupy my hands with anything that might keep my mind from spiraling.

But none of it works.My eyes dart to the clock, counting the minutes, the seconds, until the door finally opens.

The sound of her heels clicking against the floor sends a wave of relief through me, followed quickly by the heat of residual anger.I stand, watching as she walks in, calm and collected like she didn’t just light me on fire by going to his room.

“Aoife,” I say, my voice sharp.

There’s a fiery intensity reflected in her emerald eyes when she stops and meets my gaze.My fists tighten at my sides, but I force my next words to come out steady.

“Tell me everything.”

Cian

The elevator doors slide shut,trapping us in a confined space filled with electric tension.Silence hums between us, thick and charged.Leaning casually against the wall, I watch her in the polished reflection—stealing glances I don’t bother to hide.

The soft curve of her profile.The way her dress clings to her body, skimming her hips like a second skin.Every breath she takes draws the fabric tighter across her chest, teasing the rise and fall of her breasts.She’s perfectly indecent in all the right ways.Every subtle shift of her body is a provocation.Intentional or not, it doesn’t matter.

Aoife Quigley.

Patrick’s hidden treasure.The daughter he kept tucked away like a secret too dangerous to share.How he managed to shield her from the world for so long is beyond me—but now she’s here, mine for the taking.

Ruairi’s sister.A line that should give me pause.A name that should stop me.

It doesn’t.

He wants this—wants me with her.Thinks I’d be a safe choice.Trustworthy.Established.Predictable.He doesn’t know how very wrong he is.

Her presence sets something off inside me.A hunger that’s more than mere lust.It’s possession.It’s obsession.Her innocence is disarming, but I know better.She wears it like a costume.There’s something sharper beneath that polished surface.Something that wants to be seen.Longs to be touched.Craves to be ruined.

She’s playing the part of the good girl.But there’s a darkness in her eyes.A flicker of something feral, something waiting.That thought alone is enough to make me hard.The ache is immediate, sharp, and dangerous.She has no idea what she’s doing to me.

Or maybe she does.

And if she does, God help anyone who tries to touch her but me.

The elevator doors slide open with a soft chime, and I motion for her to step out first.She does, wordless, her movements smooth and unhurried.Each step deliberate, like she knows I’m watching.

And I am.