Chapter 14 Siobhan
SIOBHAN
I wake to the Dublin sunlight streaming through my bedroom window and the phantom sensation of Liam O’Neill’s mouth on mine.
I press my fingers to my lips, eyes still closed, letting myself remember. The terrace. The city lights. His hands in my hair, tilting my face up to his. The way he kissed me like he was claiming something that had always belonged to him.
Dangerous. Reckless. Stupid.
I open my eyes and stare at my ceiling.
Inevitable.
My stomach tightens. Chris is coming to the gallery today on Dad’s orders. It triggers a physical reaction in me. It’s mine. I don’t want his grubby, opportunistic hands clutching at my business.
I drag myself out of bed and into the shower, letting the hot water beat against my shoulders. But it doesn’t wash away the memory of Liam’s fingers on my thigh, his breath against my neck, the way he looked at me like I was the only person his eyes were made for.
The only person who mattered.
With shaking hands, I dress carefully in black trousers, a cream silk blouse, and low heels. Professional. Untouchable. The armor I wear when I need to remind people that I’m a Kelly, but despite that, I built something real, that I’m more than Michael’s disappointing daughter.
My reflection stares back at me from the mirror. Same green eyes. Same determined jaw. But something’s different this morning. Something’s shifted.
I touch my lips again before I can stop myself.
But no amount of telling myself this is wrong is working.
I can still feel him. The pressure of his mouth.
The way his fingers tightened in my hair when I kissed him back.
The low sound he made in the back of his throat when I pressed closer, forgetting where we were, forgetting who might see, forgetting everything except the taste of him.
I close my eyes and take a breath.
This is what terrifies me. Not Michael’s anger or the threat of Chris or the gossip that’s probably already spreading through Dublin like wildfire. What terrifies me is how easily Liam makes me forget myself. How completely he unravels the careful control I’ve spent years building.
How much I want him to do it again.
The gallery is quiet when I arrive at nine. Fiona won’t be in until nine-thirty, which gives me time to walk through the space alone, checking that everything is perfect and in its place.
I walk slowly through the space, adjusting a painting that’s slightly crooked, straightening a placard.
But my mind isn’t on the gallery.
It’s on Liam and the way he kissed me like he’d been waiting his whole life to do it. The way I kissed him back like I’d been waiting too.
The small clock near the front desk chimes ten, and I take a deep breath and smooth my blouse. Professional. Untouchable. A Kelly.
I can do this.
But even as I think it, I know I’m lying to myself. Because the woman who can handle Chris Kelly, who can deflect Michael’s manipulation, who can run this gallery with cold efficiency—that woman wouldn’t have kissed Liam O’Neill last night.
That woman wouldn’t still be able to feel his hands on her skin.
I walk to my office and sit at my desk, pulling up the quarterly reports Chris will want to see.
Revenue projections. Acquisition costs. Operating expenses.
The numbers are good. Better than good. The gallery has exceeded every target I set, every goal Michael thought was unrealistic when I proposed this venture three years ago.
I’ve proved myself. Built something that matters.
And Chris is going to try to take it away.
I hear his footsteps on the gallery floor before I see him—confident, proprietary, and ten minutes late. Fucker. When he appears in the doorway of my office, he’s wearing an expensive suit and a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.
“Siobhan.” He doesn’t wait for an invitation, just walks in and sits in the chair across from my desk. “Michael asked me to stop by. Review the quarterly reports. Make sure everything’s in order.”
I keep my expression neutral. “Everything’s in order.”
“This place is impressive.” Chris leans back in his chair, making himself comfortable. “You’ve done well here and built something real. Michael’s proud, you know. In his way.”
I don’t respond. I know Chris well enough to recognize when he’s building to something.
“Of course,” he continues, “success brings responsibility. The gallery has become quite valuable. An asset to the Kelly portfolio. Michael thinks it needs proper oversight. Family oversight.”
My hands tighten on the edge of my desk. “The gallery has proper family oversight. Mine.”
“For now.” Chris’s smile widens. “But things change, Siobhan. The family is expanding its interests. Consolidating. Michael wants someone he trusts to manage all the Kelly assets. Someone loyal.”
“I am loyal.”
“Are you?” Chris stands, walking to the window, looking out at the Dublin street below. He doesn’t need to say anything else.
I stand too, facing him across my office. “My personal life is none of yours or Michael’s business.”
“Everything’s Michael’s business when it comes to family.
” Chris turns from the window, and his expression is harder now, the pretense of cousinly concern dropped.
“The O’Neills are the enemy, Siobhan. Always have been.
Or have you been away that long, you forgot lesson number one?
Your father built his empire fighting them.
Destroying them. And now his daughter’s associating with Liam O’Neill behind his back—”
“Careful,” I say, my voice sharp as glass.
Chris holds up his hands, but his smile is cruel. “I’m just saying what Michael’s thinking. What everyone’s thinking. You’re embarrassing yourself. Embarrassing the family. Michael won’t tolerate it much longer.”
“Is that a threat?”
“It’s a warning. From family.” Chris moves closer. “Michael’s been patient with you, Siobhan. Let you have your little gallery. Your little independence. But that patience has limits. Especially when you start making decisions that affect the whole family.”
“This doesn’t affect the family. There is nothing going on.” A big, fat lie.
“Breathing the same air as an O’Neill does.
Think about what you’re risking. This gallery.
Your trust fund. Your place in the family business.
Michael’s prepared to cut you off entirely if you continue down this path.
And for what? A man whose family has spent forty years trying to destroy everything yours built? ”
I feel the weight of his words settling over me like a shroud. Because he’s right. Michael would do exactly that. Cut me off. Take the gallery. Erase everything I’ve built as punishment for my disobedience.
He’s done it before to others who crossed him.
But something in me rebels at the manipulation. At the assumption that I’ll fall in line like I always have. That the threat of Michael’s displeasure will be enough to make me deny what I felt last night on that terrace.
“Michael doesn’t own me,” I say quietly.
Chris laughs. “Doesn’t he? Who funded this gallery, Siobhan? Who gave you the connections, the reputation, the Kelly name that opens doors? You think you built this on your own, but you didn’t. Everything you have, you have because of Michael, and what Michael gives, he can take away.”
“Then let him try.”
The words surprise us both.
Chris’s expression hardens. “You’re being naive. Liam O’Neill doesn’t want you, Siobhan. He wants your gallery, your assets. And when he’s done using you to worm his way into your business, he’ll discard you like—”
“Get out.”
“Siobhan—”
“I said get out.” I move around my desk, furious. “This conversation is over. You can tell Michael that I heard his message. That I understand exactly what he’s threatening. And that I don’t care.”
Chris stares at me for a long moment. I see the calculation in his eyes. Weighing whether to push harder or retreat. Report back to Michael that the gentle approach didn’t work.
Finally, he shakes his head. “You’re making a mistake. A serious one. When Michael moves forward with the restructuring, when he brings all the Kelly assets under central management, you’re going to regret this moment. This choice.”
“Maybe,” I say. “But it’ll be my choice. My regret. Not Michael’s.”
Chris moves toward the door. “He’ll destroy you for this. You know that, right? Michael doesn’t forgive betrayal. Especially not from family.”
“Then I guess we’ll see how much being a Kelly is really worth.”
Chris laughs, but there is no amusement in it. He takes another step closer to me and grips my wrist, bruising me. “Fall in line, Siobhan, if you know what’s good for you.”
I turn my head a fraction, and my breath catches.
Liam.
Fucking hell. That is bad timing if I ever saw it.
“Get your hands off her, Kelly?” Liam asks conversationally, blocking the doorway with his tall, muscular frame, draped in an expensive, navy blue Hugo Boss suit that makes him look even more gorgeous, if that’s possible.
His white shirt is open at the collar, as usual, his tats showing and again, I inappropriately wonder how far down they reach.
Chris’s fingers dig deeper into my flesh, a painful reminder of his point. His eyes, full of familial condescension just moments ago, now blaze with pure hatred as he looks at Liam. “This is a family matter, O’Neill. Fuck off.”
Liam doesn’t move, doesn’t even blink. He just watches Chris with those winter-sea eyes, an unnerving stillness settling over him. It’s the calm before a slaughter. “I won’t ask again.”
The threat hangs in the air, thick and lethal. My office, my sanctuary, suddenly feels like a cage with two wolves circling, and I’m the rabbit they are fighting over. Chris is volatile, but Liam… Liam is something else entirely. Controlled destruction.
Chris pulls a gun out of the back of his pants and aims it at Liam. “I said, fuck off. You’re trespassing.”
My blood turns to ice.