Page 13 of Royal Deception

I don’t hesitate. "Because we’re the best in the business. I’ll personally see to it that you’re taken care of. I’ll even have Finn Leahy assigned to you."

She raises an eyebrow at the name. "Finn Leahy?"

“Yes. He’s the top man for this kind of job. Once upon a time, he was my father’s bodyguard, and he’s the one I’d trust the most to keep you safe. He’s got the experience, and he knows how to handle delicate situations."

“What happened to your father?” she asks. It’s a valid question, but I feel a flicker of something in my chest, remembering the day I found him.

“He had a heart attack,” I say, keeping it brief. “But he was kept safe until the day he passed.”

“I’m so sorry,” she says, a flicker of sympathy on her face.

“Thank you. And you can trust us. I will personally make sure you feel comfortable with him. We’ll get this all set up for you, Callie.”

We’re in the middle of negotiating the terms of Callie’s contract when the door opens without a knock and Clary steps inside. She looks at me, her expression a mixture of urgency and reluctance, her arms wrapped around her waist.

“You have a call on line one,” she says, her voice soft.

“Clary, what is it?” I demand, dragging a hand through my hair as I try to keep my voice even. “Couldn’t this have waited? You know I’m in the middle of an important meeting, Clary. You should learn your place,” I hiss.

She hesitates, stumbling through her words. “I’m sorry, Mr. Brannagan, but the police are on the phone. They’re at O’Shaughnessy’s. They’re evicting the place on behalf of the property managers.”

The words hit me like a brick. “Evicting? Why the hell would they be evicting?”

Clary shifts uncomfortably, eyes darting to Callie and then back to me. “They said the rent hasn’t been paid in months.”

I’m already leaning forward, my hand on my chin, the anger rising in me. “And you’re telling me this now? You knew Gibbs had been… dealt with. Why didn’t you step up and take care of it?”

The words spill out before I can stop them. It’s louder than I meant it to be, and I feel a flicker of discomfort, but I push it aside. I’m angry, and that’s all that matters right now.

Clary’s face pales, her gaze flickering nervously between me and Callie, who’s sitting across the table, no doubt witnessing this whole exchange. I don’t care. I need her to understand that this is a mess.

“I thought you didn’t want me to handle it,” she says softly, almost apologetically.

“You should have stepped up anyway,” I snap, crossing my arms. “You’re my assistant. You’re supposed to handle things like that.”

Clary’s eyes drop to the floor, her hands twisting together, and she just nods meekly. “I’ll take care of it,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper. “I promise.”

I stare at her for a long moment, my jaw clenched, and the weight of the situation hangs between us. I should apologize, but I don’t. Instead, I take another deep breath, trying to hold onto the last thread of control.

“You’d better,” I mutter. “Don’t make me come back here for this again.”

Clary nods quickly, and I catch a flash of hurt and humiliation in her eyes before she leaves the room without another word.

I let out a frustrated sigh, running my hand over my face, and finally turn back to Callie. I’m aware of how that all played out, but I’m not about to admit I lost it in front of her. Not now. Not ever.

I clear my throat, forcing myself to relax. “Sorry about that. Let’s get back to business.”

Callie nods, her demeanor professional, but there's a flicker of something in her eyes.

“Sounds good,” she says, rising from her seat. “I’ll be in touch about the details.” She walks toward the door, her movements fluid and deliberate. But just before she steps out, she pauses and looks back at me.

“If you need anything else, Rory,” she offers, giving me a pointed smile, “I’m sure we can work something out.”

I nod, a tight smile on my lips. “I’ll be in touch, Callie.”

Once the door shuts behind her, the room feels almost too quiet. The space between us now feels like it’s filled with something unspoken. I swallow, shifting in my seat. My thoughts drift back to Clary and the way I spoke to her.

It’s not like I don’t know how to treat people. I can be polite. I can be professional. It just seems like there’s something about Clary that always pushes me to the edge. I always go straight for her throat even when I know she’s doing her best.