Page 114 of Three Irish Kings

Despite my excitement, though, Isla’s warm and soft, and it’s morning still, but I haven’t been able to sleep, worried about Cillian going to find Maggie.

I told Isla the truth when I said that I always knew she wasn’t Maggie. That doesn’t mean I wasn’t worried that Liam would never believe that.

I should be sorry Maggie’s dead, but I’m not.

What does that say about me?

Right now, it doesn’t matter.

All that matters is Isla.

I just hope when the time comes, she chooses me, just like she was going to do that first night.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

LIAM

“You've been distracted, Hayes.”Allen’s voice startles me.

I’ve been staring at my phone for too long.

Isla texted, asked how I was, and I just responded with:

busy.

Now I can’t stop staring at Isla’s last message.

When you get home, I’ll take care of you.

In reality, this is the first time in my life I find it hard to work at all.

I love what I do, the environment, the power, the sterile nature of the corporate office. The fact that here everything is black and white. No gray areas, no gray morals.

It’s so vastly different than what I do outside of the clan that it allows me to escape. Plus, it’s just… simpler. Cleaner. No blood on my hands while I’m at my desk or in a board meeting.

I frown at Allen. “Distracted?”

He nods. “You’ve been taking a lot of personal time, and even when you’re here, it’s like you’re a million miles away.”

I look at him coolly. “Is there something going on with the company that I don’t know about?”

I know there isn’t.

Allen simply can’t accept that I have a personal life outside of work, but honestly, neither can I.

And what kind of personal life is it anyway? Sharing Isla with my two best friends while I seethe with jealousy?

But something about the way Isla looks at me, her lip caught between her teeth, hazel eyes bright with mischief, that I just can’t seem to give up.

If I let it come down to it, she’d choose one of them. Not me. Never me. But do I want to give her up?

Fuck, no!

As much as it pains me, and though the most painful torture wouldn’t get it out of me, I’d hate myself if I let her go.

It is not a competition, and I can’t let it become one. But if it were, I’d hate myself forever for losing by not even trying. I’m that competitive, that's all. It has nothing to do with feelings. I'm not like Dare, making eyes at her and drooling over her. Risking everything for a woman.

Not just any woman, but still.