Page 36 of An Angel’s Share (The Greystone Family: Greystone Brothers #1)

The building is the height of modern luxury.

An old wharf building, not kept enough original features for Evie.

She keeps muttering every time the salesman tells us what they replaced with what.

But everything has been thought through.

Every modern convenience and then some has been installed.

Decor to fit anyone’s exacting standards.

They are magnificent homes, yet my heart sinks. With every question and answer the Greystones skilfully extract, my heart stutters and stops. Tommy comes and stands next to Christy, clearly thinking she’s going to break down as the prices on each condo are revealed.

At one point, he takes her elbow and says kindly, “Let’s go get some fresh air. I saw a coffee shop at the bottom of the building.”

He nods to the Greystones as they continue their friendly interrogation of the sales director and then the CEO of the company that owns the building. Turns out, Jackson knows his brother. Gave him a job a few years ago. Before all the building work took off.

We’re smiling and nodding at them all. Once Evie’s identity is revealed, well, it’s as if a celebrity has been plonked on their doorstep.

We’re given the VIP treatment, the red carpet is well and truly rolled out.

Plans, schedules, costings are all fully revealed.

They want her to look at another old building they have.

They’ve seen her Docklands work. I thought at one point the man was going to faint with excitement.

Three hours later, we’re all leaving, all smiles, with Evie promising to call and come and check out the other building tomorrow for them. I look back and see them all high fiving, flushed red with excitement at such a coup. Clearly she is a big deal.

“Well, baby sis, you wowed that lot. Good work. Will you go look at the building?”

Shocked, I do a double take. I would never have guessed from her demeanour with them that she might not be telling them the truth. She grins at Jackson. They know her well.

“Yeah, I’ll go tomorrow. We might need more info for Christy.

And Jonno has a proxy for the board meeting.

I don't need to be there. In fact, I don’t want to be.

But I think we should discuss this before we meet up with Christy.

Clearly she knows things are not right. But let’s have a dissection and see what we need to do. Shall I phone Jonno?”

They all nod. I see how they operate as a collective. This is what I want, this much effort, us all working together. I doubt if I could ever reach this level with Patrick. I’m jealous again!

We sit around a table in an empty room, call Jonno on FaceTime, and I listen to what they think has happened.

Well I could see, to be honest. Patrick has been taken for a ride.

The penthouse is a four million pound property alone.

It had been three, but they put it up due to the additional high-end finishes asked for.

How could Patrick have fallen for this? Thinking this whole building was an eight million euro building, with all the renovations to do? He doesn’t own anything.

We conclude that Liam—Oh God, why is he such a drag on this family—has told Patrick that his half of the investment is four mil.

But Patrick is actually buying the Penthouse for Liam.

It’s in his name. The fool purchased the penthouse in his sole name.

Mr Liam Figgs-Hamilton bold as brass on the bottom of the paperwork.

We only got to see the paperwork after some sleight of hand by Jackson, and some seriously good questioning by Jude. Christy’s ‘deposit’ was obviously the money down to secure the apartment.

My chest feels tight and I must look terrible, as Evie takes my hand, and I hear Jonno say he’s coming to Dublin.

“No, Jonno, stay there. I’m coming home,” I manage to get out.

What has happened to me? To my family? It’s falling to pieces around me.

My dad’s illness, Patrick’s potential infidelity, and now the loss of money.

All the thieving. Thieving on top of thieving.

O’Clerys seems to be a hotbed of illegal activity.

“Brother, we’ve got your wife and child, we’re all coming home,” Jackson states.

I’m shocked. Jonno has certainly spilled every secret, but I don’t remember my agreeing to marriage.

“Do you want me to stay on the phone, Aoife?” Jonno asks me, his chocolate voice in full effect. “I will, all the way home, baby.”

I shake my head, my nerves calming a bit. “I’ll be fine, I’m just worried about Christy,” I say in a choked voice.

“Yes, I know it’s a shock. But we don’t want her to do anything, to react.

It’s really important.” His intensity is drilling into my eyes and brain.

“If she can’t manage it, she’ll have to go on holiday for a day or so.

Do you think she can?” His eyes are roving every inch of my face.

“You need to convince her, Aoife. If she can’t keep her mouth shut, it’s a few days' holiday somewhere for her and the kids.” He looks at Jackson as he states, “We’ll sort it.

” He’s commanding his troops. There is no argument to be had .

I look around at the Greystones. All serious faces, all totally determined.

“I’m not sure she’s capable of not reacting.

Especially on top of all the infidelity accusations.

” I bite my lip with worry. “She may have a meltdown. But sending her away on a holiday may cause more questions. I think Patrick knows something is amiss with her.”

How can they expect her not to react? It’s outside the realms of normal human behaviour. I know it would be a struggle for me. The Greystones look like they could all manage it without a hesitation, but us normal folk—not a chance.

“Then we don’t tell her,” states Evie, looking around at her brothers.

Riiiight. I’m getting a glimpse into the other side of the family Greystone now.

I knew it was there, I could feel it, it bubbles just under the surface.

A wildness, reckless, ruthless streak. They all have it.

Their businesses make perfect sense. The security business, the cyber security.

I’d read Jackson’s profile. Black ops in the army.

Intelligence work. And now celebrity security services.

Ruthless, cold and calculated, every single one of them.

“What are you thinking, Kitten?” They all look at her, like it’s a normal event that they’re cooking up.

I’m gobsmacked at the deception unfolding in front of my eyes. Evie bites her lip. I can see the smoke coming off the cogs in her head.

“We tell Christy that Patrick does own the apartment and part of the building, but that it’s a complicated structure of trusts and shares.

I’ll throw the words venture capital in.

No one knows what they do anyway.” She grins at Jude, who huffs at her.

Clearly he owns one of those companies. “To be honest, that will be true when we relieve the douchwallet Liam of the apartment and give it back to the person who actually paid for it.” I didn’t realise they were going to do that.

I’m riveted, as well as terrified of them.

“We can convince her it was simply Patrick trying to be modest. And that he probably didn’t want to overload her with more information than she needed at this point.

” She looks at her brothers for confirmation of the strategy and lies.

They all nod. “She won’t lose her deposit, or that apartment, we’ll make sure of that.

” She looks at Jonno on the phone screen as she says it.

He nods, and I don’t think I want to know what that means.

“Aoife, can you live with that? Not telling her?” Jonno asks me, shifting his focus back to me from Evie.

Christ, I am going to be an accomplice, but I nod in compliance. I’m too scared to do anything else, surrounded by this merciless family.

“Yes, I can manage that.” I say quietly

“Good girl. Come home, Rua. We’ll sort this mess out once and for all. Don’t worry, we’ve got you.”

They all touch my shoulders, and Jude puts his arm around me.

Even though what they are doing is cold and hard, I feel the warmth from the family.

The love. I’ve never really had that. I’ve had friends, but never a family like this.

I’m an only child, and whilst Patrick and Conor were always around, we were never really close.

Not like this family unit. They are the ultimate juxtaposition.

Jackson craftily gives me little Rio to hold so I have something to focus on as we walk into the coffee shop, and Evie declares, “Crisis over, Christy. We’ve got to the bottom of it all.”

God she’s good. I’ve never seen a more convincing liar.

She goes into great detail about actually how amazing Patrick is, and what he’s done.

But emphasises that Christy can’t say a word, how imperative it is that she doesn’t know officially until after the completion of all the money in a week’s time.

As we meander through Dublin back to the car, my brain is working overtime.

They’re laughing and joking. Stroking and touching both Christy and I.

Drawing me in, cuddles and touches. They’re like a group of tigers.

An ambush. How apt. I feel like I’ve been ambushed.

And Christy certainly has. Playful, gentle, loving us.

Yet under the surface at any moment we can all be ripped to shreds. Eaten, stripped of all our flesh.

I might be being melodramatic, but that is the feeling they give me.

I’m laughing along, smiling and chatting.

But I can feel the danger, it’s like a physical thing.

And I’m not sure which way to turn for the best. Do I play along?

Hope Christy and I make it out alive. My stomach is in knots.

I don’t know which way to turn, and the man I should be able to rely on looks to be leading the ambush.