14. Cormac
Chapter Fourteen
CORMAC
At this rate, I’m going to need to add a uniform clause into Fiona’s contract because if she continues to wear these tight-fitting skirts, I can’t be held responsible for my actions.
I have already crossed too many lines.
Two days in a row now, Fiona has left my office with flushed cheeks and no panties.
I’m fighting to keep our little after-work activities purely transactional and as meaningless as possible because sex is all I am willing to give Fiona.
So far, she seems fine with that, and I hope it will stay that way, otherwise I really will be in trouble.
I’m still riding the high of our after-work hookup long after she’s gone home on Tuesday. I wish I could do the same, but Ronan called a family meeting at Kieran’s, and I’m not exactly in a position to blow him off.
It’s almost eleven when I arrive at the black iron gates of Kieran’s estate.
The driveway cuts through the hedges on either side, discreetly lit by floodlights hidden in the ground.
The house looks to be a modern take on an old Italian villa, with thick white columns on either side of the front door and pale slate roofing.
It’s a lot more homely than the penthouse he gave me, that’s for sure.
I pull in between Ronan’s Range Rover and Brennan’s Porsche. It looks like I’m the last one here, but I’m hoping I have a valid excuse for being late, considering the fact I’m heading up the family business now.
I jog up the front steps, but the door swings open before I even have a chance to knock.
Riley steps aside to let me in. “Hey, Cormac. Come on in. Sorry about the mess. We’ve had decorators in all week. I’m desperately trying to get everything finished before baby girl comes.”
I look around the foyer and notice the dozens of paint swatches on the wall. I hope Riley doesn’t ask my opinion because the colors all look identical to me.
“Don’t worry about it.”
“Everyone’s in Kieran’s office. Do you need me to show you where it is?”
I can already tell that Riley is struggling to be on her feet from the way she’s subtly trying to rub her back, so I shake my head.
“I can manage. You should probably go and rest.”
“Urgh, you sound like Kieran.”
“Is that supposed to be a compliment?”
She grins as she rubs the top of her stomach. “It depends on the day. Besides, I can’t sleep. Apparently, the moment my head hits the pillow, it signals something to baby girl to start kicking me right in the ribs.”
“It’ll be worth it.”
She smiles. “I know. Kieran’s office is down the hall, last door on the left.”
I nod at her before making my way down the hall, dodging the towers of boxes with various baby equipment inside. I manage to get to the door unharmed, but as I open it expecting to find my brothers lounging around drinking whiskey, I almost fall headfirst down a flight of stairs instead.
“What the fuck?” I reach for the doorframe to steady myself.
Trust Kieran to put his office in the basement.
At the bottom of the stairs, I find a similar-looking reinforced door with biometric locks to the one at the penthouse.
This is just great. I can’t even get inside, and knowing Kieran, the place will be soundproof, so I can’t even knock.
For a beat, I consider leaving, but then I think of the fallout and reluctantly pull out my phone and open up the latest group chat Brennan created, Guns n’ Giggles.
I scroll through the archive, groaning at the hundreds of unread messages, and quickly type out, Someone want to let me in?
A few seconds later, the door mechanism starts to click, and then it opens to reveal a scowling Kieran.
We haven’t spoken since I fucked up the meeting time with the Stratford Group.
“Hey.” From his expression, I can tell he hasn’t forgotten.
“Ever thought about installing a doorbell?”
He huffs a laugh before stepping aside to let me in.
Brennan throws both his hands up in the air from his spot behind the bar. “Cormac’s here! The whole gang is back together.”
Ronan chuckles from his spot on one of the black Chesterfields. “You make us sound like we’re in some cheesy boy band.”
“No, but we should be. Ciara and Riley could be our groupies.”
“So, Kieran, I see you’ve traded one bunker for another.” I take a look around the basement.
It’s been transformed into something between an office and a vault.
On one side is a hand-carved walnut bar with copper lights hanging overhead.
Rows upon rows of expensive liquor are displayed on backlit shelves on the wall behind it, which Brennan seems to be helping himself to.
The other side of the basement houses all of the modern stuff, handguns and rifles and boxes of neatly labeled ammunition.
This room embodies Kieran completely. He doesn’t build things for comfort. He builds them for control.
“The deal was Riley gets to do whatever she wants with the rest of the house as long as I get the basement.”
Brennan smirks. “That’s not creepy at all.”
“Apparently, my choice of decor isn’t aesthetic.”
“Can’t imagine why.” I look around at the shelves of antique weapons.
I distinctly remember when Kieran first started this collection.
Our father was the one who gifted him his very first pair of dueling pistols when he was ten years old.
I could never imagine giving Scout such a gift, but then again, I’m raising him to be a kid, not a weapon.
“Do you want a drink?” Kieran offers.
“Thanks.”
He heads behind the bar, snatching the bottle of liquor out of Brennan’s hand and putting it back on the shelf before picking up another.
“Don’t buy it if you don’t intend to drink it.” Brennan walks around the bar and plops down onto the couch beside Ronan.
“Oh, I have every intention of drinking it, just not with you.”
“Rude.”
“Play nicely,” Ronan warns.
Brennan shrugs. “Or what, you’ll put us in time-out?”
“To be fair, you’ve been a good way to practice my parenting skills,” Kieran says, and Ronan laughs.
“What are you trying to say?”
“That you’re a toddler disguised in a twenty-eight-year-old’s body.”
“Well, you only have yourselves to blame for that.”
Ronan frowns. “How?”
“I mean, you’re meant to be my role models. If anything, how I behave is a direct reflection of you. So, if you don’t like what you see, that’s too fucking bad.”
Kieran shakes his head. “You are so full of shit, you know that?”
I hover near the bar, not knowing what to say. I’m not much of a conversationalist, but seeing how naturally my brothers go back and forth with one another makes me feel even more like an outsider.
I would be lying if I said the close relationships my brothers have with each other don’t bother me, but it does. I wish I didn’t have to try so hard and could laugh and joke around regardless of what is happening outside of these four walls. But I can’t, and that’s my own fault.
I chose to keep Scout a secret, and that naturally caused a rift between us.
I’m just wondering if it’s something that can ever be repaired.
Brennan turns to me. “How’s Scout doing?”
The room falls silent as all eyes turn to me.
“Fine.”
Thankfully, Kieran slides a drink across the bar to me, and I eagerly snatch it up and take a long sip just to have something to do.
“Come on, Cormac, give me something here. The kid’s my nephew.”
“I’m aware.”
“So, does he like baseball or football?”
“He likes all sports.”
“Maybe I could take him to a Yankees game sometime?”
“Yeah… Maybe…” I lean against the bar.
Kieran walks around the bar with the bottle of whiskey in hand and drops down onto the other couch. “So, how’s the new assistant working out?”
Ronan smirks. “I’m excited to hear about this.”
“There’s nothing to say.”
“I’m surprised she hasn’t quit yet,” Brennan jokes, and Kieran huffs a laugh.
I shoot both of them an irritated look.
“I’m not that difficult to work for.”
Brennan throws his head back and lets out a bark of a laugh, which makes me bristle.
“What?”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“I’m no worse than Kieran.”
Kieran throws his arm over the back of the couch. “I’m a fucking delight.”
Ronan scoffs. “If anything, Kieran is better because at least he’s learned how to delegate. You, on the other hand, are a control freak.”
“That’s not entirely true.”
Kieran raises an eyebrow. “Isn’t it?”
They just don’t get it.
I might be a control freak, but it’s only out of necessity. Because the moment I lose control, my son becomes vulnerable, and that’s just not something I’m willing to risk.
“What did you need to talk to us about, Ronan?” I need to change the subject to anything other than Scout. Or worse, Fiona.
“Brennan tells me you went and met with Sal Romano.”
“Fun,” Kieran mutters.
I bypass the spot on the couch beside Kieran and take a seat in one of the leather armchairs. “I got a tip that Lorcan stopped by and wanted to go and check it out. But he didn’t have any information of use.”
Brennan nods. “We’ve been compiling a list of other potential allies that Lorcan could call in a favor from.
“I figured if we can get in there first, he’s going to eventually run out of people he can trust to cover his tracks.”
“And then he’ll slip up,” Ronan muses.
“That’s the plan.”
Kieran looks at me and Brennan. “Can I see this list?”
Brennan pulls out his phone and loads up the spreadsheet.
While the three of them look over it, my phone starts ringing in my pocket, so I quickly get to my feet and walk out of earshot. When I see it’s Ray, my stomach bottoms out.
He never calls me this late, not unless something is very, very wrong.
“Talk to me, Ray.”
“Cormac, you’ve got to get out here, man.”
I don’t think a single sentence has ever made me feel such gut-wrenching dread in my life.
“Is Scout okay?” My voice shakes.
“He is now.”
“What do you mean now?”
“Kid snuck out?—”
“He did what?”
Ronan is on his feet and at my side in an instant, but I turn my back to him as I try to focus on what Ray is saying.
“He came back, but not until after nine when he decided to climb through his bedroom window. Little hellion thought I wouldn’t notice. Almost jumped out of his skin when he saw me sitting on his bed.”