22. Eamon
Eamon
I see him before she does. A tall man with dirty blond hair, his easy stride carrying him toward us like he doesn’t have a care in the world. But I care. My jaw tightens as I watch his gaze dart between me and Eve.
“There you are,” he says as he sidles up beside her. “I thought I lost you for a minute.”
The tension in Eve’s posture is immediate, her shoulders stiffening as she glances at him, then back to me. There’s a flash of panic in her eyes before she masks it, but I see it.
“And you are?” I ask, keeping my tone calm, though the fury simmering beneath it is anything but.
He extends a hand, his smile disarming. “Shane. Aoife’s date.”
Aoife. The name catches me off guard. It’s unfamiliar, yet undeniably her. I’ve called her Eve for so long that hearing something different feels like a betrayal and a revelation. It pulls at something deep, something raw.
But then date .
That single word twists the knife. I barely stop myself from reacting, my hand curling at my side before I force it to relax. I’ve spent too long looking for her. Spent too many nights wondering where she was or who she might be with. And now she’s here, and this man thinks he can lay claim to her?
“A pleasure,” I say, my voice tight as I grip his hand briefly before letting go. “Eamon. Owner of The Emerald Briar.”
Shane nods, oblivious to the storm brewing under the surface. “Nice place.”
Aoife glances at me, her expression a mix of guilt and unease. Good. She should feel it.
“Anyway,” Shane continues, turning back to her, “they’re waiting for you to sing Happy Birthday. You ready to head back?” He places a hand lightly on her arm. The movement makes my blood boil.
“She’s not going anywhere,” I say, stepping closer to her.
Shane looks confused, his brow furrowing. “Sorry?”
Aoife jumps in quickly, her voice unsteady. “You go back without me. I’ll be there in a minute.”
He hesitates. “You sure?”
“Yes,” she says, her voice firmer now. “I’m fine. Go on.”
Still, he lingers, clearly unsure whether he should leave her alone with me. Wise.
I force a polite smile, though it’s the last thing I feel. “She said she’ll be along shortly.”
After a long pause, Shane nods reluctantly. “Okay. I’ll see you inside.” He shoots her one last questioning look before walking away.
The moment he’s gone, I take her by the arm. “We need to talk,” I say, my voice low and controlled.
“Eamon—”
“Now.”
I steer her into the nearest empty room, my grip firm but deliberate. The door clicks shut behind us. Without hesitation, I reach back and turn the lock. The sound reverberates between us like a thunderclap.
The room is small, lit only by a single desk lamp in the corner.
An oak desk sits against one wall, cluttered with papers and a closed laptop.
Shelves line the walls, filled with ledgers, books, and binders.
It smells faintly of leather and dust. The air is thick with tension that crackles between us.
Aoife backs up instinctively, her shoulders meeting the wall. Her wide eyes dart to the door, then back to me. She isn’t afraid. That’s not her. But she’s uneasy, and she should be.
“What the hell are you doing?” she snaps, her voice sharp, though I catch the slightest tremble underneath.
“What am I doing?” I growl, stepping closer, my voice low and unforgiving. “I should be asking you the same thing.”
Her chin lifts, defiance flashing in her eyes even as her chest rises and falls too quickly. “I told you. I’m here for a party.”
“And that guy? Shane,” I say, his name dripping from my lips like venom. I take another step, closing the distance between us pinning her with my gaze. “Who the hell is he? And why are you here with him?”
She hesitates, her lips parting as if to answer, but nothing comes. Her gaze drops momentarily before she looks back up to meet mine.
“It’s nothing,” she says finally, her voice softer now, almost pleading.
“Nothing?” I echo, my tone razor-sharp. I plant my hands on the wall on either side of her, caging her in. “Try again, Aoife ,” I say, testing out the feel of her real name.
She flinches slightly but doesn’t argue. Doesn’t deny it. That silence, that damned silence, is the final straw.
I lean in and kiss her, hard and unforgiving, pouring every ounce of my frustration, fury, and longing into it.
She gasps against my lips, the sound both soft and sharp, and then she kisses me back.
Her hands clutch at my shirt, her fingers curling into the fabric like she’s trying to hold herself together.
It’s still there. That undeniable pull between us.
When I finally break away, we’re both breathing hard.
“Who is he?” I demand. “And who the hell are you really?”
She presses her palms against my chest, not to shove me away but to create space, to anchor herself. “It’s a long story,” she says, her voice trembling.
I nod, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “We’ve got all night.”
Her eyes widen, but she holds her ground. “If I don’t check in with my friend Erin, she’s going to worry. I don’t know what Shane’s already told her.”
“Fine,” I say, stepping back, my voice tight with barely restrained anger. “Let’s go.”
“You’re coming with me?” she asks, her voice edged with disbelief.
“I’m not letting you out of my sight again,” I reply, my tone low and resolute, leaving no room for argument.
Opening the door, I gesture for her to lead the way.
We walk into the party that’s humming with energy and laughter.
Chatter fills the room as plates of cake are already being passed around, the sweet scent mingling with the buzz of celebration.
From across the crowd, Shane leans toward Erin, nudging her arm and murmuring something.
Her gaze follows his, and when she spots us, her expression shifts to confusion.
She hesitates for a moment before she begins to make her way over, her steps quick and deliberate.
“Is everything okay?” Erin asks, stopping in front of us. Her eyes dart to mine before settling on her friend.
Aoife hesitates. “I’m sorry,” she says quickly. “But I need to leave early.”
“What?” Erin’s face falls. “You’re leaving? But?—”
“I’ll explain later,” Aoife says, her voice soft but urgent. “Please, apologize to Shane for me.”
Erin looks like she wants to argue, but then her gaze shifts to me, suspicion clouding her features. “Who is this?”
I step forward, extending a hand. “Eamon,” I say smoothly. “Aoife’s boyfriend.”
Erin blinks, her mouth opening slightly in shock as she looks back at Aoife. “Boyfriend?”
Aoife gives her a tight smile. “It’s complicated. I’ll explain everything later, I promise.”
Erin looks uneasy but nods reluctantly. “Okay. But your suitcase is still at my apartment.”
“I’ll handle that,” I say, my tone leaving no room for argument. “One of my men will get the address, and I’ll have it picked up tonight.”
Aoife looks at me but doesn’t argue. Erin, however, steps forward, her unease now edged with desperation.
“Wait, Aoife,” she says quickly, glancing between us. “Are you sure about this? Maybe you should call your brother first. Doesn’t he usually?—”
“He already knows,” Aoife cuts in, her tone calm but firm. “He’s aware that my plans have changed.”
Erin’s eyes narrow as doubt clouds her face. “You’re certain? Because I could?—”
“Erin,” Aoife says softly, reaching out to touch her arm. “It’s fine. Really. Don’t worry about me, okay?”
The girl looks anything but reassured, her gaze shifting back to me. “And you’re just going to take her without any explanation?”
I smile, though my patience is wearing thin. “She doesn’t need to explain herself to you. Or anyone else, for that matter.”
She opens her mouth to argue, but Aoife steps in again, her voice more insistent now. “Erin, please. I’ll explain everything later. But I have to go.”
Erin hesitates, clearly torn, before stepping back, her shoulders slumping slightly. “Fine. But you better explain this, Aoife. All of it.”
Aoife nods once before turning toward me, her expression unreadable. Erin stands rooted to the spot, her confusion and unease heavy in the air as she watches us.
We’re nearly at the door when I pause, turning back to Erin. “I’ll cover the cost of the party,” I say, my tone casual but deliberate. “Consider it my contribution to the celebration.”
Erin’s eyes widen slightly, her lips parting as if to respond, but I don’t wait for her answer. I guide Aoife out of the room, my hand firm but not harsh at the small of her back.
As we walk through the quiet hallway, I glance down at her, my voice low and simmering with unresolved anger. “You’ve got a lot of explaining to do, Eve ,” I say, the old name slipping from my tongue like a warning. “And I’m not going anywhere until I hear it all.”