Chapter 6
Gideon watched his wife spread cream cheese onto a mini bagel and knew something was wrong. He’d thought so the day before, but Eva had perked up over chocolates and a heating pad—he had acquired a few strategies over the years to help him feel less useless when she was menstruating—and he’d set the concern aside. But it was a new day, and his usually energetic wife was subdued and distracted.
She was dressed for comfort in wide-legged slacks in cherry red and a loose sleeveless tunic in cream silk. Ruby earrings he’d once given her as an anniversary gift winked at him between strands of her blond hair. And the full, lush lips she’d wrapped around his cock this morning were now slicked with bright red lipstick.
Coming up behind her, Gideon slid his arms around her waist and felt her jump slightly in surprise. He could rarely startle her—she was as attuned to his presence as he was to hers. They both instinctively knew when the other entered or exited a room, sight unseen.
If he’d needed proof that her thoughts were tangled up in something, he had it now.
He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, breathing in her familiar beloved scent. Her proximity grounded him immediately, silencing the noise and worry in his mind. When she leaned into him, he sighed inwardly with soul-deep contentment. They could handle anything life threw at them as long as they were aligned.
“Something’s bothering you.” He nuzzled her temple as Lucky lay down with front paws on his oxfords. “Something that came up during your lunch with Cary?”
“It’s uncanny how you do that,” she muttered in what sounded like a complaint.
“You do the same to me,” he reminded. “Then you worry at it like Lucky with a bully stick until you find out what it is. It’s how we work.”
“I know. I just don’t have the words now.” Eva turned her head to press her cheek to his, hoping he would leave it at that for now.
But, of course, he didn’t. “Are you worried about Cary?”
“No, it’s nothing like that. He’s doing great.” She breathed measuredly in and out, fighting irritation at being forced to talk about something she wasn’t ready to. She spoke in a rush. “They’re expecting their first child. Maybe their only child, actually. I don’t know if there will be others, but there’s one on the way.”
“That’s exciting. I’ll text him my congrats.”
She nodded and started to pull away. “He had some great ideas about the masquerade. I’m going to run them by the team, see what we can do.”
Gideon held fast. “Which of those two very different things is the problem?”
“I didn’t say there was a problem. I’ve just got a lot on my mind. It’s Monday, and I’ve got a week of work to sort out in my head.”
“I can read between the lines.” He urged her to face him, his hands lifting to brush her hair back from her breathtaking face. He’d studied her at length over the years: the curve of her brows, the symmetry of her wide gray eyes, the shape of her nose, and the plumpness of her lips. She was noted for looking like her mother, but he saw her father in her, too. “Since you’ve been around the block with the masquerade for a few years now, I’m going to say your best friend having a baby has you thinking thoughts you should be sharing with me.”
Shrugging wearily, Eva slipped her hands into his open jacket and held him by the waist, the warmth of her touch taking a bit to sink through his waistcoat and shirt to his skin. “I’ve learned that thinking big thoughts and making big pronouncements needs to wait until I’m not overly emotional on my period.”
“How about a little clue, then?” He kissed the tip of her nose.
She was silent for a long while, staring at his tie clip, then, “A couple without a uterus between them get pregnant before me. There’s some irony in that.”
Gideon heard the tremulousness in her voice, and his heartbeat quickened. “Sounds more like frustration.”
While he technically knew it was impossible for his wife to be happy every minute of every day, it was his primary goal. It seemed only fair since she was the sole reason he was happy. He’d been content before her, even satisfied, but knowing joy didn’t happen until she happened.
“Separate situations at play, of course,” she murmured, unnecessarily fidgeting with his waistcoat buttons. “No one’s threatening them.”
He went very still. “Is someone threatening you?”
Eva looked at him with incredulity. “Gideon… come on. Things have never returned to normal since we started receiving those letters.”
There was no mistaking the blend of accusation and irritation in her husky voice. He moved his hands from her hips to her wrists, gripping them with firm pressure. He watched her eyes darken and her lips part, her focus narrowing on him.
“We have a new normal,” he said evenly, attuned to every nuance of her expression. “If that’s made you feel less secure, you should’ve said something before now.”
She scowled. “Don’t make this about your ego.”
A flash of anger gave an icy edge to his reply. “Say that again.”
“I’m sorry.” Her eyes squeezed shut. “I didn’t mean that.”
“Oh, I think you did.”
“Argh!” She tried to pull away. “I told you I didn’t want to talk about it, and now we’re fighting, which is the last thing I want to do. Ever. But you just had to push.”
“Apparently so, as it seems you have a lot you haven’t been telling me.” Gideon pulled her hands up to his chest and pressed her palms against him, his grip on her wrists light but unbreakable. He couldn’t bear it when she attempted to distance herself from him, largely because she did so only when she was angry or hiding something. “You need more time to find the words, so we’ll table this discussion until dinner. But answer me this: have you made any decisions based on the thought that I can’t keep you safe?”
She looked up at him with those big gray eyes that could peer into his soul, and he realized she had. The sudden knowledge was wounding, and he backed away from her in instinctive self-defense.
Eva felt a spurt of panic as her husband physically and emotionally retreated. A smooth mask descended over his features, and she couldn’t bear it. “Gideon, you?—”
“No. Now I need time.” He pivoted and walked away, speaking to her curtly over his shoulder. “I’ll be in my office. Let me know when you’re ready to leave.”
Her eyes stung as she watched him depart. There was so much she wanted and needed to say, but she didn’t trust herself not to fuck it up further.
It took a heroic effort for Ireland to finish winging her eyeliner before answering her phone. The fact that Ronan’s face was on the screen made it even harder. She briefly considered letting the call go to voicemail, but that was the type of game she didn’t have time or inclination to play.
“Hello, handsome,” she greeted him coolly.
“Good morning, cher . Did you enjoy your time with Alina?”
“I did. I would’ve told you so last night if I could’ve.”
“And I would’ve been delighted to hear about it if I could have.”
Her gaze narrowed as she studied the symmetry of her eye makeup in the mirror. Wearing eyeliner on a workday wasn’t usual for her, but then she’d been holding out hope that Ronan was still planning on seeing her. “Really? What tied you up? Or, more to the point, who tied you up?”
His voice came low and amused. “Your jealousy is unwarranted. You’ve ruined me for other women. I don’t even see them anymore; I’m so blinded by you.”
Her huffed laugh was wry. “One: I’m only possessive of things that are mine. Two: You’re the most outrageous flirt. I can’t take you seriously.”
“You’re a weakness,” he said artlessly. “I’ve mastered self-denial, and I have no vices aside from a fondness for sex, but I can’t seem to resist you. And I know you, tigress. You’d set your mind to changing mine, and it was necessary to avoid the temptation.”
Ireland watched her reflection alter, her eyes and expression softening. She made a frustrated sound. “Okay, that’s a pretty good excuse as far as excuses go,” she admitted. “So, what did you do?”
“I blew up all my best-laid plans,” he told her cheerfully. “Claudette is enjoying it all immensely, but Jules is less entertained. He’s used to me doing what he expects me to. It’s probably good to shake him up a bit. He’s too easily bored, and then he gets into trouble.”
“Can’t have two mischief-makers.” She began to put on her mascara. Thankfully, ECRA+’s Out All Night line of makeup had insane staying power because it sounded like she might be having an all-nighter with the golden god, after all. The thought alone made her so excited her feet began to tap. “Although someone once told me that being bad is much more fun than being safe.”
“Sounds like a bad influence.”
“Oh, I hope so!” Her smile was so wide the sight of it embarrassed her.
Ronan’s laugh swept over her like a heated caress. “What time will you be free for lunch?”
“That depends.”
“On?”
“If we’re also having dinner together. If so, then I’m free any time after eleven-thirty. If not, then any time after five works better.”
The sound of his amusement was as much music to her ears as his drawl. “Anywhere in particular you’d like to eat?”
“Let me think about it. I’ll text you some ideas.”
“ C’est bon .”
Ireland held her tongue until she couldn’t any longer. “I missed you last night. That’s stupid, I know. But it sucked. I didn’t like it.”
The other end of the line was silent for a long moment. Then she heard him sigh. “A better man would apologize, but I won’t because I’m glad I didn’t suffer alone. See what kind of man I am?”
“An honest one? At least, I hope you aren’t stringing me along. It wouldn’t be necessary, considering how obvious I’ve been about wanting to have sex with you. It’d be cruel.”
“ Cher …” He exhaled harshly. “I’ll be waiting for your text. Waiting for you.”
They said good-bye, and Ireland sat on her vanity stool for too long, staring at where Blizzard was sprawled diagonally across her king-sized bed. Her thoughts twisted and wandered, constantly circling back to Ronan. “He can’t be the real deal. It’s impossible to just stumble across sex on legs with a heart of gold. For one, such a man doesn’t exist. And two, you’re the only truly perfect male, right, Bliz?”
Blizzard rumbled and stretched to his full incredible length.
Glancing at the clock on her bedside table, Ireland jumped to her feet in alarm. “Oh, hell. I’m late. Gotta run.”
In under five minutes, she was out the door with her black Birkin slung over one forearm and a muted gold overnight bag gripped in her other hand. She ordered a rideshare pickup on the way down in the elevator. After her parents divorced, her mother moved from their former Dutchess County estate to a condo in Gramercy Park. Her father moved to the Upper West Side near Christopher and his family. Aside from her mother, who’d secured the purchase of a magnificent brownstone as part of the divorce, they all lived in buildings owned by Cross Industries.
It took just over thirty minutes to travel the five miles in morning traffic, giving Ireland time to review her to-do list and weekly reminders.
“Crap,” she muttered under her breath, remembering that she’d meant to call Christopher to talk about Vidal and whatever moves her father might be making to secure more of the company’s privately held shares.
This time, she actually put the reminder on her phone, setting it for later in the afternoon between lunch and dinner. But she’d see about talking to him in the office if he was around when she finally got there. While most of the staff were in the offices all day, she and Christopher often ran all over town.
Once she reached her mother’s place, she was greeted with a warm, strong hug at the door.
“I was beginning to wonder if you forgot,” Elizabeth said over her shoulder, still squeezing her. “Oh, it’s good to see you!”
Ireland grinned and hugged her back just as hard. Because she was in heels and Elizabeth wore ballet flats, she was slightly taller in the embrace, but they were nearly identical in appearance, from the color of their eyes to the sleek length of their hair. Her mother had initially resisted graying, but the fight against silver when your hair was pitch black was too time-consuming. Now, she sported bright white streaks around her hairline and a scattering of tinsel throughout, a natural pattern that looked salon-worthy.
“You act like you don’t see me every other week,” Ireland teased.
“It’s never enough.” Pulling back, Elizabeth studied her, brushing her hair behind her ears. “You must have a big day ahead by the look of you.”
“A big date ,” she corrected, admiring the off-the-shoulder sweater her mother had pulled on over silk slacks in the same deep amethyst hue.
“Really?”
The surprise on Elizabeth’s face was so pronounced Ireland laughed. “I do spend time with men, you know. I’m not a twenty-nine-year-old virgin.”
“Of course I didn’t think that.” Shutting and locking the door behind them, Elizabeth followed her daughter into the living room, noting the small duffel bag Ireland was carrying. “Is it a destination date?”
“Huh? Oh, no.”
Elizabeth waited for more information, and when none was forthcoming, her interest sharpened. “Aren’t you going to tell me about him?”
“Not yet.” Ireland dropped her bags onto one of the taupe armchairs and passed through to the kitchen. Her mother had decorated the home in Parisian shades of cream, gold, and robin’s egg blue—a palette that flattered her and was soothing to guests. The air was fragranced with notes of citrus and peonies, with the faintest note of coffee that made her mouth water.
Grabbing a mug out of the cabinet, Ireland put it beneath the spout of the coffee machine and selected a mocha latte. “Want something?” she asked, as sounds of building steam and grinding beans filled the air.
“I’m well-caffeinated at this point.” Elizabeth settled onto one of the barstools at the island. “Why be so secretive about your date? Is it someone I know?”
“No. It’s just that tonight is our first overnight together. Things might look different in the morning, and then talking about him would be moot.”
Her mother’s brows raised. “Are you worried he might disappoint you in bed? If so, don’t even take him for a trial run.”
“No. God, no, that’s not a worry whatsoever. My sex drive redlines the minute I lay eyes on him. And his smile is so wicked it’s nearly orgasmic.” Ireland shrugged sheepishly. “I’ve never been so hot for someone, and maybe that kind of heat burns out fast.”
“Hmm…”
“Maybe we’ll wake up agreeing that we’ve scratched that itch into oblivion. Then we’ll just be acquaintances who tangoed together once.”
And there was part of her that hoped for that resolution. A wild, incendiary night followed by a good-bye as smooth and warm as his drawl. No more pining or hoping or worrying.
“But he might be my date on Friday,” Ireland admitted cautiously, refusing to feel optimistic about that possibility. “If so, you’ll get to meet him.”
“Well, I’ll be dying of curiosity until then.”
But Elizabeth was more than curious. Gideon also hadn’t brought any romantic interests around the family aside from the two women he’d been engaged to, one of whom he married. Elizabeth loved Corinne, but the temperature of her relationship with Eva was frostier. She prayed that Ireland would follow Christopher’s example instead and make sure her partner fit in with the family before committing to anything permanent. Or semipermanent, as the case may be.
Ireland kicked off her heels and leaned forward to rest her elbows on the island. “So… what are you thinking about for your big day?”
“Oh, no. We’re not digging into wedding planning yet. Your brother has to negotiate the prenup first.” Elizabeth waved a careless hand. “Can’t have Daniel thinking of me as a fait accompli before Gideon gets that finalized.”?
Blinking in surprise, Ireland straightened slowly. “Mom, if you’ve got any concerns, you shouldn’t?—”
“Of course there are concerns. I have a remarkable ability to find men of means who can’t manage their money properly. I’m too old to keep hitting rock bottom and starting over.”?
Knowing what her mother had been through in her previous marriages, Ireland admired her strength and resolve, even while regretting the past circumstances that led to such cynicism. “Do you love Daniel?”?
“I wouldn’t marry him otherwise. And he adores me. Falling in love has never been my problem.”?
Ireland offered a quick, relieved smile. “That’s the most important thing.”?
“I wish that were true, but enough about me and the wedding. There’s plenty of time for that yet. We need to discuss what you’re going to do.”?
Confused, Ireland frowned. “What I’m going to do?”?
Elizabeth’s posture straightened, and steel slipped into her tone. “I hate bearing bad news, but forewarned is forearmed. Your father has squandered the fresh start Gideon gave Vidal.”?
A chill swept through Ireland; then she immediately realized the news wasn’t wholly unexpected. She’d known something was really wrong, even if she hadn’t acknowledged it. “What do you know?”
“Everything,” Elizabeth said matter-of-factly. “I learned a crucial lesson from Gideon’s father: always be aware of the finances. So, I made sure I had access to everything when I married your dad. That’s how I knew when to bring Gideon in to fix Vidal the first time it got into trouble; I saw that rapid intervention was necessary.”
Fighting sudden queasiness, Ireland asked, “How bad are we talking here?”
“Enough that sharks have scented blood in the water. Your father took out a loan to upgrade the recording studios, and he’s about to default. He was required to maintain specific levels of capital and liquid cash, and he’s fallen below the threshold for both.”
“By how much?”
“Too much. He shouldn’t have done it.”
Ireland winced. She’d marveled at their new state-of-the-art studios but had never considered the cost. Her father insisted modernization was necessary to attract the young, fresh artists who were independent. We’ve got to offer advantages to signing with a label…
“So…” she began, “what do the boys think we should do? What’s their plan?”
“I haven’t told them.”
“ What? What do you mean…?” Aghast, she gaped at her mother. “Why not?”
“Gideon’s already saved the day before. I won’t ask him to do it again. If you want to ask, go ahead. And Christopher was active in the company when your father ran it into the ground before and did nothing to stop it. I chalked it up to his youth and inexperience, plus he was estranged from Gideon then. But now he hasn’t any excuses left for allowing it to happen a second time.”
Blinking back tears, Ireland asked, “Shouldn’t I have known, too?”
“How could you?” Elizabeth’s eyes were flat chips of ice. “They keep you in the same box Geoffrey kept me in, locked safe and happy away from all the sordid money stuff.”
“Still… Shouldn’t I have refused to stay in my lane?”
“Now that you know better, you can fix it,” Elizabeth said calmly. “I’m selling my shares. It doesn’t make sense to be part of my ex-husband’s family business now that I’m marrying Daniel. It’s time for a fresh start without the headache of micromanaging Chris’s bad fiscal sense.”
Ireland’s exhale was shaky and took her dangerously close to sobbing uncontrollably. She held herself together by a thread. A roaring in her ears made it hard to think or comprehend. She wanted to call her kind, dear father and ask him what to do. Not being able to lean on him hurt more than anything else. “I understand. You’ve…um…You’ve done so much already.”
“You’re going to buy them from me, Ireland.”
That statement rocked her to the soul. Her breath came quick and fast.
Elizabeth’s almond-shaped nude nails tapped a rapid staccato on the countertop. “You own ten percent. When you take over my shares, you’ll have twenty-five. With Christopher backing you with his ten, you’ll have a majority position together, but you’ll have the power.”
“What about Dad’s?”
“He’s going to lose his shares. They were collateral for the loan. You may also lose all the new equipment in the studios if you can’t work out something with the lender. You’ll need to act fast.”
Ireland realized belatedly that her head was shaking back and forth. She stopped the movement, her fingers whitening where they wrapped around the counter’s edge. “Run Vidal without Dad? I…I don’t know.”
She’d always figured her father would leave the company one day because he was done with it and ready for someone else to steer it into the future. Christopher would step into his shoes, and she could decide then what she wanted to do. Maybe she would realize the business ran in her blood and stay. Or maybe she’d start something new with Alina. She’d never seriously contemplated alternative careers, and suddenly, the future yawned wide before her, an unknown and frightening void.
“Ireland,” her mother said bitingly, snapping her back to attention. “Your father and brother weren’t thinking of you when they dragged you into this mess; you can’t think of them now. If you don’t want Vidal for yourself, for god’s sake, don’t sink your money into it! You can sell your shares and do something else with your life.”
Unbidden, she thought of Ronan, and her panic eased ever so slightly. She was planning to tell him who she really was during lunch anyway, and once she did, she could ask for his advice. This situation was in his wheelhouse.
But she suddenly grasped how scary that option was. God help her if she ever needed him and came to depend upon him—a man who’d proven capable of walking away and avoiding her calls. Better to lean on Gideon, even if she sincerely hated having to approach him with anything unpleasant. Her brother would take on the burden without a single word of complaint. But her mother was right: he shouldn’t have to.
“You’ll need to decide,” Elizabeth stated firmly. “And soon. I want to divest my shares before they’re worthless.”
Over an hour later, as Ireland left her mother’s and slid into the back of a waiting rideshare, she knew she was in some stage of shock. Still, she and her mom had managed to discuss all sorts of mundane topics at length, although she could hardly remember any of them. Chatting about nothing had given her mind a brief reprieve, but she didn’t have time to bury her head in the sand. She had to know what they were up against to make an informed decision about what to do.
Her purse vibrated against her hip, and she jumped, her nerves stretched to the limit. She dug for her phone, pulling it out in time to catch the incoming call. The photo of Ronan and his black cat on her screen was possibly the only thing—aside from Alina—that could make her feel anything remotely pleasant.
“Hey,” she answered breathlessly. “I’m sorry. I was supposed to text you. I…uh…I got tied up and forgot.”
“What’s wrong?” Ronan asked sharply. “You sound upset.”
“Nothing,” she answered reflexively, then caught herself. She groaned. “Everything. I’ll fill you in when I see you. Are you at the hotel? I can meet you there, and we’ll decide where we’re going.”
“Yes, I’m at the Vidal. When will you get here? I’ll meet you downstairs.”
It was disconcerting hearing her name spoken in his voice. “I’m on the way now. I’ll share my trip, so you’ll know when I’m close.” With a few quick taps in the app, she did just that.
“ C’est bon .” A moment later, he added, “I see you.”
“I can’t wait to see you ,” she replied with feeling.
They hung up, and Ireland let her head fall back against the headrest. It felt strange and disorienting not to be aimless, which made her realize that she’d always been precisely that. She had always done what was expected of her. Now, she had choices to make and a direction to set. Was she even capable of leading when she’d always followed?
At least her mother thought she was.
She replayed their conversation in her mind, picking through the minefield of information for anything that might help her decide what to do. She and Christopher had to talk, but when? She’d always presumed he would take over their father’s role when the time came, but she’d also believed he was capable of doing so. Was he not? Was he too much like their father in that regard?
If Christopher couldn’t be trusted to run it, was it up to her to hold it together? Until when? When his children took over? That would be damn near a lifetime commitment.
Straightening with a gasp, Ireland fumbled for her phone again, and speed-dialed her mother.
“Well, that was quick,” Elizabeth answered.
“I’ve been thinking about what you told me.”
“Good. You should be.”
Ireland glanced into the cab beside her at the traffic light, her gaze briefly meeting that of the suited businessman in the backseat who was also on his phone. “You said the sharks had scented blood. Is there more than one loan?”
Was it even possible to save Vidal? She held back a groan.
“No, there’s just the one loan. I was referring to one of the other shareholders, who somehow caught wind of what was happening. They approached me with a generous offer, which has grown more attractive the longer I resist selling to them.”
Ireland sat bolt upright, her pulse leaping back into a frantic rhythm. The list and documents she’d found in her father’s desk drawer … Her nausea returned. “Who was it?”
“McCaffrey Holdings. I was going to suggest them to you if you decide to sell because they’re willing to pay.”
“Jesus. Thanks. I’ve got to go.” Hanging up, she slid forward in the seat. “I’m changing my destination in the app,” she told the driver urgently. “It’s just a couple of blocks from where I was originally going.”
He looked at her in the rearview mirror. “No problem.”
She remembered checking her father’s calendar. He was meeting with McCaffrey—she checked the time on her phone— now! Panic tightened her throat.
“Get me there as fast as you can,” she said huskily, “and I’ll tip you double the fare.”
He flashed his teeth in a wide smile. “You got it.”
Ronan waited in the lobby of the Vidal Hotel, standing in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the entrance driveway. His back was to the lobby, his posture such that it discouraged anyone from approaching him. His blood thrummed steady and hot in his veins; the anticipation of seeing the woman he’d spent the past few nights dreaming about was now at a fever pitch.
Behind him, the noise was astonishing. The music pumped through the Vidal sound system was set at a louder volume than most hotels and leaned heavily toward rock. The driving beat of frenetic drums forced guests almost to shout to be heard, and tourists passed through in surging waves, pouring in from Times Square at all hours of the day and night.
It was not his preferred type of lodging by any stretch, but Jules had enjoyed a steady stream of companions in his room since their arrival. Claudette was merely amused that Ronan had chosen it. She was perceptive, that one. She knew him well enough to reason what he didn’t say.
His left hand was in the pocket of his dress slacks and his phone was in his right. He watched the screen as the little black car steadily followed the line on the map leading to the hotel. Ten minutes to arrival. Scarcely any time at all, considering how interminable the morning had been waiting for her. But her voice on the phone had been strained and hurried, and now he was concerned. He would continue to worry until she was with him again.
The screen blinked as if it glitched, and suddenly, the destination on the app was not the Vidal. His gaze narrowed as he studied the map, noting that the new destination was within walking distance away. He almost called her to see if everything was all right but found himself spinning through the revolving lobby doors instead. At this point, he’d much rather see her than hear her voice. His concern was now suppressing his excitement.
“What are you up to, cher ?” he murmured to himself, noting the approximate location of her new destination on the app before sliding his phone into his pocket.
He wasn’t the only person in a business suit passing through Times Square, but they were in the minority. Tourists clogged both the roads and sidewalks as they gawked at the massive digital billboards and performers wearing dirty Elmo, Cookie Monster, Barney, and similar costumes. The smell was unpleasant, the ground littered with trash. Bourbon Street was also malodorous and dirty, but at least the architecture was lovely. Times Square was garish in every way.
He reached 48 th St. and turned, his pace quickening when he spotted the woman he sought unfolding from the back of a black town car, her hair a silky curtain that enveloped her. She was dressed in a short column of black material, the fit loose and the shoulder straps thin. Her sleek legs were miles long and strong, her calves and thighs flexing with lithe muscle.
Ronan noted the small duffel bag in her hand and smiled grimly, accelerating his pace to catch her. Her gaze raked over and past him, as he weaved through the cars crawling through the densely trafficked area. Then her attention shot back to him, her eyes widening with surprise.
“Ronan!” She turned toward him when he reached her but was too stunned to react when he caught her close and lowered his mouth to hers. The moment their lips made contact, she surged into him, her free hand clutching his lapel as she kissed him back with such eagerness it stole his breath.
He pulled away only because they were on a crowded street.
“How did you—” Realization dawned in her eyes, the shade of blue one he’d only ever seen in Caribbean waters. “Oh! I’m sorry. I should’ve called to explain. I work here and have to take care of something urgent.”
Cupping her jaw in one hand, he committed every nuance of her extraordinary face to memory, especially how she looked at him at that moment.
She covered his hand with hers and nuzzled into his palm. “I’m glad you’re here. I have so much to tell you. Would you mind waiting for me?”
“As long as it takes.”
Her smile was like sunshine. Catching his hand, she pulled him behind her, but he lengthened his stride to get the door for her.
“Hey, Charlie,” she greeted the guard as he gained his feet behind the desk. “Can you hook Ronan up with a badge, please?”
“Of course.”
Ronan slid open the wallet attached to his phone and handed the guard his driver’s license and a business card.
She smiled at him but was visibly anxious and uneasy. Her wide, mobile mouth was pinched at the corners, and her expressive eyes were dark and sad.
He squeezed her hand when she attempted to pull away from him. “Let’s go up together.”
“I’m late for something important, or I’d wait. It won’t take Charlie long to get you checked in.” She pushed onto her tiptoes to press those lush lips to his in a brief kiss. “I’m going to surprise you today. Just trust me, okay?”
“ Cher —”
But she was walking away, already miles from him in her mind, and no longer heard him. The elevator doors opened instantly when she pushed the call button, the car already on the ground floor.
He followed, calling after her again, but she was gone. Exhaling harshly, he tried to shrug off the tension tightening his body. The scent of her perfume lingered, taunting him.
He wanted her beyond reason, with a deep-seated hunger that was maddening. He’d called her inconvenient, but she was a much bigger problem than that simple word implied. He was operating blind, having blown up all of his meticulously crafted plans, and his lack of guilt for making that choice was a dire warning.
“Like a tornado, isn’t she?” he said to Charlie.
The guard’s smile was fond. “Been that way her whole life,” he agreed, his gaze on his monitor as he typed. It seemed interminable before he handed over a badge in a clear sleeve. “Wear that at all times. Head up to the third floor. Reception will direct you where to go.”
“Thanks.” Ronan clipped the badge to his jacket pocket and took the stairs at a dead run. He was conditioned to strenuous exertion, yet his heart hammered in his chest. He broke through the door on the top floor and skidded to a halt just in front of reception.
Ronan assessed the space in a single sweeping glance, noting that the meeting in the glass-walled conference room had arrested his tigress the moment she’d exited the elevator. She stood utterly still, her lips parted and eyes narrowed beneath a confused frown.
“ Cher ,” he murmured, approaching her cautiously from behind.
Her head turned toward the sound of his voice, but her gaze remained fixed on the three people seated at the conference table as he took her hand in his.
He caught the attention of the dark-haired man and woman who sat facing a fellow with silver-dusted auburn curls whose back was to the elevator. That man noticed when their focus shifted to someone behind him, and he spun his seat around to face Ronan.
There was a moment of utter stillness in everyone, then the man’s face contorted with mottled rage. He bolted from the chair and shoved through the glass doors into the reception area.
Ireland sidestepped to shield him with her body despite the tableau in front of them.
Incredible.
“Dad!” She dropped her duffel on the floor and lifted her hand, still gripping Ronan with the other. “Calm down.”
“Get out of the way, Ireland!”
Ronan raked him with a derisive head-to-toe glance, cataloging the round brass glasses, wrinkled khaki slacks, green cardigan, and scuffed loafers. A harmless-looking man despite his fury, but his looks were deceiving. “You know my face, non ?” he taunted with an icy smile.
“Let go of my daughter!”
The receptionist stood behind her desk. “Should I call security, Mr. Vidal?”
“Yes. Do it now.”
“Hey!” Ireland’s voice took on a note of steel. “We’re all adults here. We can sit down and figure this out rationally.”
She turned toward Ronan in what felt like slow motion, looking first at him and then down at the badge he wore. The color bled from her face as her lips read silently: Ronan McCaffrey.
Her hand went slack in his. It would've slipped from his grasp if he hadn’t been holding on. Regret became a sharp ache.
Rubbing her suddenly cold fingers between his, he spoke softly so only she could hear. “As I said, cher , we have things to discuss.”