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“Who can I tell him is here?”I ask, keeping my voice professional and polite.

“Jerry Callahan,” he replies.

I nod and pick up the phone, dialing Eamon.When he answers, I keep my voice neutral.“Mr.O’Sullivan, there’s a Mr.Callahan here to see you.”

Eamon doesn’t ask questions, just says, “Tell him to wait at the bar.I’ll be down shortly.”

After hanging up, I offer the man a polite smile.“He asked that you wait in the bar.”

As he moves toward the lounge, I busy myself behind the desk, going through routine tasks until Cian strolls over.He leans casually against the counter, giving me a slow once-over.“A girl like you shouldn’t be wasting her time behind a desk.”

I don’t bother hiding my boredom.“Oh?And what exactly should I be doing?”

“Something much more fitting.”His grin widens.“Something where your looks won’t go to waste.”

“You mean like sitting around looking pretty while some man tells me what to do?”

Cian chuckles.“Now, would that be so bad?”

I roll my eyes.“Sounds boring.”

His smirk lingers.“I’d make sure you weren’t bored,mo bhanríon.”

I swallow down my disgust at the pet name.“Is that supposed to make me swoon?”I ask, my tone dripping with sarcasm.“You’re going to have to try harder than that, handsome.”

Then, I let my eyes rake over him, taking in his attire.“By the way, shouldn’t you be dressed for a wedding?Or is crashing them more your style?”I ask, my tone dry.

He shrugs, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.“Bet you won’t believe this.”

“Try me.”I cross my arms, unimpressed.

“The bride got cold feet.Called the whole thing off at the last minute.”

“No way,” I gasp, clutching my chest like I’m seconds from swooning.“What a shocking turn of events.”

“Swear on my life.”He shifts, pressing his forearms on the counter.“Which means I’m here, with no obligations, for the rest of the day.Thought maybe you and I could do something about that.”

“And what exactly did you have in mind?”

He pauses, letting his gaze drift over me, slow and suggestive.“Ditch work and come out with me.One night, just us, before I have to slip away in the morning.”

Before I can come up with an excuse, a familiar presence moves behind him.

Eamon.

He steps up, his expression unreadable.“Is everything okay here?”

Cian turns, momentarily caught off guard, but recovers just as quickly.His grin is all confidence, his tone light but deliberate.“No trouble at all.Just trying to convince this one to run off with me for a few hours.”

“I don’t believe we’ve met.”His movement is controlled as he extends a hand.“Eamon O’Sullivan—owner of the hotel.”

Cian takes it without hesitation, matching his confidence.“Cian O’Leary,” he replies, his confidence unshaken.“Didn’t realize I’d get the pleasure of meeting the man in charge.”

Eamon holds his gaze for a beat longer than necessary before releasing his grip.“Pleasure,” he says, though his tone makes it clear it’s anything but.“Careful, though.Not everything that looks good is meant to be touched.”

Cian doesn’t waver.If anything, his smirk deepens, like he’s enjoying whatever game he thinks he’s playing.“I’m sure you know how it is.When you have something this good, it’s hard to walk away.”

Eamon doesn’t react right away.Instead, he studies Cian until his mouth curves into something that resembles amusement.“That so?”His voice is almost casual, but there’s a lazy sort of challenge beneath it.He glances at me, his gaze lingering just long enough to make a point before looking back at Cian.