Chapter 27
Cillian
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Last night Chloe tried to find answers.
Answers to the questions she has about why I appear to love her—which I do wholeheartedly—yet I’m willing to let her go.
I know her so well that I immediately knew that question would be the only thing to send her snooping around my office at that hour of the night. She’s had no reason to snoop before, but the vague situation between us is getting worse.
I don’t think it will get any better the longer we’re together. I see it only becoming harder.
On Saturday we’ll have been married for one month. The time has flown by fast, and I have a feeling that time will continue to fuck with me and speed up even more. The next thing I know six months will have flown by, and it will be the end of us.
I’ve been going through the motions of that scenario on my own, not wanting to talk about it with Chloe, much less think about it.
When I tried to leave her alone before, I couldn’t. I became her stalker, then I became her husband.
Now I’m even more stuck on the question of how I’m supposed to let her go.
Last night I knew she was in the office the instant I went upstairs, but I was impressed that she figured out how to open the secret room.
I was at the door before she found the picture of Erika and me. When she found it, I knew from the despondent look on her face that our situation was bothering her more than I wanted to accept.
I tried to summon the right words to explain the picture and explain myself, but nothing came to me. So I took the fucking coward's way out and didn’t try.
I didn’t even try when I picked up on what she must have thought after inspecting the picture of Erika and me. That I looked in love. I was. But that was then and my love for Erika was different from what I feel for Chloe.
It wasn’t more and it wasn’t less. It was just different.
That said, if I were ever asked to point out the biggest difference, I’d be able to say that my wife is my soulmate.
I’ve never loved with my soul before. That’s what she gets from me. And that’s what makes everything so much harder.
The fucked-up day I had yesterday didn’t help, and it made me worry more for her safety because I had another brush with death.
Jaxon and I went to check out a lead at a bar in the Bronx and ended up in a fucking fight. Harlan had been seen there with some cartel guys the day before, and the bartender who was my lookout called to let me know the guys were back.
Jaxon and I got there in time but the men started shooting at us the moment they spotted us. They’re dead now, but I had a close call.
The fucking trail ran cold with those motherfuckers. Like everything else.
I’m at the bank now but I’ll be on the streets later, working with my men in this continuous cycle of trying to find answers.
I wanted to meet Chloe for lunch because I feel bad about last night but with the schedule today, I’m not sure if I can get away even for an hour.
There’s also a Creed meeting tonight. Dante wants to talk with the men about re-strategizing, something we desperately need to do.
Lance has been fucking with us for far too long and now something different needs to happen. If we don’t change things up, we’re just running around like headless chickens in a circle.
I hate to even need anyone’s help, but the reason that fucker has been able to outsmart us is likely because he’s had help from Creed enemies.
I turn down the corridor leading to my office and wish I hadn’t when my gaze lands on Jessica sitting on the sofa area outside my office door.
Fuck. When it rains, it means to fucking pour down on me.
Why in the hell is she here?
There is literally no reason for her to come by to see me, but the smile she gives me when she spots me approaching tells me she has her reasons. Reasons I undoubtedly won’t like.
“What do you want?” I don’t even bother to try and sound polite.
“I heard congratulations were in order.” She pushes to her feet and follows me inside the office when I open the door and go in.
“You could have sent a card, or just not bothered. I wouldn’t have cared either way.” I walk behind my desk.
“Neither of those options sound like me. Really, Cillian, can you see me buying a ‘congratulations on your wedding day’ card for the man I was supposed to marry?”
“Seriously, I’ve never met anyone more deluded than you.” I have no problem telling her that. Sometimes I even believe she knows she’s deluded, but that’s what makes her tick.
“Think whatever you want.” She waves me off with the flick of her wrist and a pageant-queen smile.
“What the fuck do you want, Jessica?”
“It would appear that my family just became quite important to you.”
“That’s news to me. How’d that happen?”
“My brother is engaged to the daughter of your biggest investor. The Gallaghers.”
Damn it. I didn’t know about that. “Where is this going?”
“They’re not happy with your choice of wife. They were especially not happy that you could have chosen me and didn’t, when my family owns a hedge fund firm. So, they’re thinking of pulling their investments.”
“You sneaky bitch.” I shake my head at her. This woman is the kind who always finds a way to get what she wants, but she’s not going to wrap me around her claws.
“You have to give me credit. Come on, how was I supposed to pass up the opportunity to marry the head of the clan?”
“I’m already married, if you haven’t noticed.” I point to my ring.
“But there is the matter of the six-month clause. If I were you, I’d get rid of the little dancer and consider me as your next choice if you want to keep your precious relationship with the Gallaghers.”
She knows Chloe is a dancer, meaning she’s been watching me.
She also fucking knows about the six-month clause. Only the people closest to me knew I was going to end my marriage in six months. None of them would have released that information, so this coming from Jessica is a threat. A threat to me, her superior.
“Get out.” I point to the door.
“I’ll wait to hear from you.”
“Get. The fuck. Out.” I speak firmer, not quite raising my voice but speaking a notch louder so she gets the message.
She gives me a sassy smile then sashays her way out the door swaying her hips.
Shit. How the fuck did this happen? The motherfucking Gallaghers.
I am their leader. How fucking dare they challenge me like this?
I know what they’re up to. They did this to me because they want to take over the lead of the clan.
Our businesses are outside the scope of control in my leadership. So the Gallaghers are free to pull their investments if they want to. It’s just seen as unconscionable.
But what’s fucking unconscionable is them thinking they can force me to marry Jessica.
I have all kinds of shit going on but I have to deal with this before it causes further problems.
Quickly, I fire off a message to Seamus letting him know what’s going on and that we need to meet about it first thing tomorrow morning.
I’m about to slide my phone back in my pocket when it starts ringing. It’s Jaxon.
“Hey.” I answer the call.
“Cillian. We found Harlan.” His voice sounds hollow and distant.
“Where?”
“He’s dead. Murdered. We found him on the floor of the hotel room. It happened about an hour ago. Lance did it, Cillian.”
“Jesus. What the fuck?” Damn it to hell. This is the last thing I needed. Lance killed Harlan? But why? “How do you know it was Lance?”
“He left his smiley-face note on Harlan’s body, addressed to you. Cillian, the note also said: One down, more to go, then I’m coming for the Irish king.”
A chill of terror unlike anything I’ve ever experienced spreads across my body.
One down, more to go, then I’m coming for the Irish king.
Fuck. The Irish king is obviously me but I’m not worried about that part. The first part of the message has me heading through the door and abandoning all plans for the day that don't involve protecting my family.
That motherfucker is telling me he’s coming to kill everyone I hold dear. Like the way he killed my parents.
“Jaxon, call Virgo and tell him to get Olivia and Seamus to the safe house. Get the Creed enforcers to go to Chloe’s restaurant and the hospital to protect her mother. I have to check on my wife.”
“Okay. Leave that with me. I’ll keep you updated.”
I hang up, then I’m running, panic moving me forward.
I try to call Chloe but her phone goes straight to voicemail. She’s supposed to be home until midday.
When I reach my car I call Liam, my head guard. I have him stationed at the house with my best men.
He answers on the first ring. “Hey, boss.”
“Liam, where is my wife?”
“She went into the city to the dance studio. Gavin and Ben are on lookout down there.”
“Tell them we have a red alert and get the rest of the guys to head down there.”
“On it.”
I hang up and speed down the road. I’m not far from the studio. I could be there in ten minutes if the traffic isn’t terrible, but I need my men ready in case there’s trouble. If Harlan was killed an hour ago then Lance is definitely still on the move.
I drive like a madman, running red lights and nearly running the car off the road several times. I’m sure I must have broken several laws in the space of a minute.
I reach the studio in less than ten minutes and race up the stairs.
I’m so fucking glad when I see Chloe in the big hall I nearly cry.
She’s dressed in her black leotard and doing stretches at the ballet barre in the far corner.
She has piano music playing from her phone on the floor. I’m guessing I couldn’t get through to her because she might have the settings switched to do not disturb or airplane mode.
I rush inside the studio and she sees me. She straightens and meets me halfway.
“Cillian.”
“Baby.” I scoop her up into my arms and check her to make sure she’s not hurt.
“What happened?” Her beautiful eyes search mine, panicked.
“Are you okay?” I’m still checking her.
“I’m fine.”
“I thought you were going to be at home.”
“I needed to… dance.” I can hear in her tone that she’s still off with me because of last night. “What’s going on?”
“Harlan is dead.”
She gasps. “What?”
“I need to take you home.”
“But I have a lot of work I?—”
I crush my lips to hers, wanting to feel her because I miss her like I haven’t seen her in centuries, and when I thought she could be in danger, it killed me. That one single thought literally destroyed me.
I never got to kiss her last night because she was asleep by the time I came out of the shower, and I didn't kiss her this morning because she was asleep when I left. On both occasions I didn’t want to wake her. Not because I wanted her to sleep but because I was still caught up in the trap I set for myself.
I kiss her now as if it’s the first time and the last. I don’t stop until I feel I can, then I hold her close to me. “Please come home with me. I need to make sure you’re safe.”
She nods slowly. “Okay. But please can you tell me what’s going on?”
“I will.”
I take her hand, grab her phone and her bags, and lead her away.