39. Ruairi
Ruairi
Ronan sits across from me, flipping through the pages of a report I already know by heart. The numbers are steady. Our shipments are moving as they should, but none of it holds my attention right now.
My phone buzzes on the desk. I glance down and see Cian’s name flash across the screen.
Cian: Spent the day with your sister.
He got her to go out with him already. That was fast. I knew Aoife wouldn’t outright refuse him, not if she wanted to stay close and keep her little games going, but I didn’t expect her to play along this quickly.
Cian thinks he’s winning her over. And maybe she’s starting to see reason. Starting to realize where her loyalty should be. Or she’s playing him.
Either way, I need to keep him thinking he’s in control. If I give him any reason to second-guess himself, he might back off, and I need him to keep going. I need to get Aoife back here where she belongs.
Ronan looks up from his report, catching my expression. “Something interesting?”
I school my features as I say, “Cian took Aoife out.”
Ronan raises a brow. “That right?”
I nod. “Seems she didn’t put up much of a fight.”
He exhales slowly, studying me. “And you’re alright with that?”
I shrug. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“He’s old enough to be her father,” Ronan mutters.
“Maybe that’s what she needs,” I say unfazed, “A strong hand. Someone who won’t let her get lost in all that fire she’s carrying.”
Ronan scoffs, disbelief edging his voice. “You really think she’s going to fall in line?”
I lean back in my chair, fingers drumming against the desk. “We’ll see.”
Ronan shakes his head, but he doesn’t push. He knows better.
Instead, he turns his attention back to the report, flipping a page with deliberate ease. I wait a beat, then pick up my phone and type out a response to Cian.
Ruairi: Didn’t expect you to move that fast.
I hit send. Let’s see how confident he really is.
His response is almost immediate.
Cian: She didn’t put up much of a fight.
I laugh under my breath. That doesn’t mean shit.
Ruairi: Good. Keep her close.
A moment later, my phone buzzes again. I glance down to find an incoming message with pictures attached. When I open them, my stomach tightens.
The images are of Aoife and Cian at Love Lane, smiling as if they belong there together. Another one at the restaurant, heads tilted close, her expression soft, playful.
I stare at the photos for a second longer than I should. I still don’t believe it—don’t trust it. But for a moment, I wonder. Maybe even hope that it could be this easy. Then, I shake off the thought. It was nothing more than an afternoon out.
I type out my next message.
Ruairi: Looks like you had a nice little outing.
Cian: Little outing? Didn’t feel like a little outing when she was all over me in the elevator.
I’m still trying to process the first message when the second one comes through, landing like a punch.
Cian: The way she kissed me? Damn near had me thinking about fucking her right there in the elevator.
A muscle in my jaw ticks. I force my fingers to stay steady as I type.
Ruairi: You’re not there to get in her bed. If I find out you laid so much as a finger on her, I’ll make sure you don’t live long enough to regret it. Do your job and stay focused.
A few seconds pass before Cian responds.
Cian: Relax. I know what I’m doing.
The screen blurs at the edges as I reread his words, a slow burn building behind my eyes. If Cian forgets his purpose, I won’t hesitate to remind him exactly who he’s working for.
Ruairi: I’ll relax when she’s back in Belfast, where she belongs.
Then, I turn my attention to my sister, forwarding her the picture and typing out a single message.
Ruairi: What game are you playing at?
I wait. She doesn’t respond.
A muscle in my jaw twitches as I fire off another.
Ruairi: First, you whore yourself out to O’Sullivan and now to Cian? You think that earns you a seat at the table?
Still nothing.
I throw my phone down on the desk, exhaling sharply. Fine. If Aoife wants to ignore me, so be it. This changes nothing. In fact, it only proves what I already know. O’Sullivan has his claws in her deeper than I thought.
My fingers resume their restless rhythm against the desk, tapping in time with the pulse of growing irritation.
The photos Cian sent remain on the screen, each one more infuriating than the last, especially with Aoife still ignoring my messages.
It shouldn’t come as a surprise. Defiance is in her nature.
She’s always pushed, always tested the edges to see how far she can go before someone dares to pull her back.
But this time, she’s in over her head. Aoife doesn’t see what’s happening. She doesn’t understand that she’s sinking deeper into a war she has no business being in. Fine. If she won’t come home willingly, I’ll make sure she has no choice.
I glance up at Ronan. “We’re going to push harder,” I say, my voice low and cold.
Ronan watches me as if he’s waiting to see just how far I’m willing to take this. “What are you thinking?”
I lean forward, keeping my voice steady. “Hit the cash drop headed for his London connection.”
Ronan’s brow lifts slightly. “That’s his expansion play. You really want to blow that up?”
“He’s been lining it up for months,” I say. “New territory, new allies. That money legitimizes the move. Take it out, and you don’t just cost him power. You embarrass him.”
Ronan nods slowly, the corners of his mouth tightening. “That’ll hurt.”
“Good,” I murmur. “It’s time O’Sullivan feels the consequences of dragging my sister into this.”
He shifts in his chair, weighing his words before speaking. “You’re pushing this right to his doorstep. The closer you bring the war to O’Sullivan, the more likely Aoife gets caught in the crossfire.”
I slam my fist against the desk, my patience snapping. “Then make sure she doesn’t.”
Ronan doesn’t flinch, but his eyes darken. “You’re so set on dragging her back to Belfast, but every time you pull shit like this, you make it harder.”
I push to my feet, closing the distance between us. “I don’t need a fucking lecture from you. Just handle it.”
For a moment, neither of us moves. The tension between us is like a silent challenge lingering in the air. A muscle ticks in his jaw, but he gives a stiff nod. “Fine.”
Without another word, I grab my phone and storm out of my office, the weight of my decision settling deep in my bones.
My sister wants to stay in O’Sullivan’s world.
Let’s see how she handles it when I start burning it down.