38. Eamon
Eamon
I stand just inside the penthouse doors, fists clenched tight. My mind replays the scene in the elevator, the way Cian’s hands lingered on her, the way she kissed him back.
Calculated. It was fucking calculated.
But that doesn’t matter. It doesn’t fucking matter.
She’s been gone all day. Didn’t tell me where she was going or what she was doing. I willingly let her walk out the door, knowing she’d be spending the afternoon with Cian. But seeing his hands on her. His lips against hers ignites something primal in me. A fury I can’t contain.
The handle turns a second before the door swings open, and Aoife steps inside. She stops short the second she sees me. Her expression falters with mild surprise, maybe the slightest hint of guilt. But she recovers quickly.
“I didn’t know if you’d be home yet,” she says, shrugging off her jacket like nothing’s wrong.
I don’t move. “Where the hell have you been?” My voice is low, barely restrained.
She lets out a soft sigh, tossing her purse onto the counter. “Out.”
Her flippant attitude grates against the edge of my restraint. “Out?” I take a step toward her, gaze burning. “You were gone all fucking day, Aoife. And I saw the kiss.”
She shrugs. “It was nothing.”
“Nothing?” My jaw tightens as I grab her wrist before she can walk past me. “You kissed Cian in my fucking elevator, and I’m supposed to believe it was nothing?”
She yanks at her arm. “Let go of me.”
“Not until you tell me what the fuck is going on.”
She glares up at me. “Cian brought me to a meeting. Business for Ruairi.”
My grip tightens involuntarily. “You went to a Syndicate meeting? Without telling me?”
She scoffs. “I didn’t realize I needed your permission.”
I inhale sharply through my nose, temper dangerously close to snapping. “This isn’t about permission. It’s about the fact that you went to a meeting involving the Syndicate with no protection. Do you have any idea how reckless that was?”
She crosses her arms, eyes flashing with defiance. “Now you sound just like my father and Ruairi.”
I don’t think, I pull her against me. My hands lock around her waist, forcing her body flush against mine. “Did they ever do this?” Before she can fire back, my mouth crashes against hers.
She gasps against my lips but doesn’t pull away. My hands tighten on her hips, my body reacting to hers. When I finally break the kiss, my breathing is uneven, but my grip stays firm. “Do their bodies respond to you like this?” My voice is rough, raw.
She swallows, eyes locked on mine. “Of course not.”
Something dark comes over me, and an idea forms before I can stop it.
“You’re sure you want to play with the big boys?” I ask, my voice quieter now, more controlled.
She doesn’t hesitate. “Yes.”
I nod once. “Fine. Then let’s go.”
“What?”
“We’re going out.”
“It’s late and I’m exhausted. I just want to go to bed.”
“I don’t care,” I say flatly. “You’re coming with me.”
She watches me for a long moment, searching my face for a clue, but I’m already on my way to the door. With a resigned sigh, she grabs her jacket and follows me out.
The drive is silent. My hands grip the steering wheel, my jaw ticking as I stew, unsure if this is the right move. I don’t know where the fuck my head is at. Only that I need her to see the danger, the darkness in whatever game she’s playing with Cian.
The low buzz of her phone vibrating against her thigh snaps me out of my thoughts.
I glance at her out of the corner of my eye. Her expression shifts, frustration creasing her brow as she reads the messages. She exhales sharply, her fingers tightening around the phone.
“That better not be him,” I growl.
She rolls her eyes and turns the screen toward me. “It’s Ruairi.”
I glance down. My blood boils when I see the image. A picture of her and Cian at Love Lane. “What the fuck were you doing there?” I ask, my voice deadly quiet.
She sighs. “Walking. Talking. Pretending.”
My knuckles go white. “Pretending?”
“Yes, Eamon,” she huffs. “I was playing along. Trying to get information.”
I force myself to breathe through my nose, steadying the anger coiling inside me. “And what information did you get?”
It lasts barely a breath, a fraction of a second, but I catch it. She shifts slightly in her seat before answering. “Not much of anything. Just that he met with some guys. I couldn’t hear what they were saying.”
“Alright,” I reply, keeping my voice even.
Turning away from me, she crosses her arms as she looks out the window like she’s already done with the conversation. The rest of the drive is silent. I don’t push her. Not yet. But I will. Because if Aoife thinks she can play this game with me, she’s about to learn I don’t lose.