Chapter 2
CHAPTER
TWO
I'm reviewing perimeter feeds when the radio crackles.
"Black sedan at the gates, boss."
My blood turns to ice. Only one person drives that car.
"Let her through."
I switch to the front camera and watch the Mercedes glide up the drive. When the door opens and she steps out, my world tilts sideways.
Holy fuck.
Saoirse Kavanagh isn't the girl who left for Oxford. She's a woman who could kill me with a look. Her coat hugs curves that make my hands itch to touch. When she moves, there's a predatory grace that shoots straight to my cock.
Twenty years I've kept my distance. Twenty years of cold showers and gritted teeth. One glimpse of her destroys every wall I built.
I force myself outside before I do something stupid like adjust my pants.
"Miss Kavanagh."
She turns, and those blue-green eyes hit me like a punch to the gut. Not the uncertain teenager who used to curl up in my lap during storms. This woman could bring me to my knees and make me beg for more.
"Conall." Her voice carries traces of posh English now, but underneath I hear whiskey and sin. "How is he?"
"Stable." I keep my distance because getting close means smelling her skin. Means remembering how she felt pressed against me when nightmares woke her. Back when it was innocent. "Your mother's with him."
She nods, and the movement makes her coat shift. I catch a glimpse of silk underneath, and my mouth goes dry thinking about what else she's wearing.
"Security changes?" she asks.
"Doubled perimeter. New protocols." My voice sounds rough. "Your safety is priority."
"My safety?" One eyebrow arches. "Worried about me, Conall?"
The way she says my name makes heat pool low in my belly. Dangerous territory.
"Always."
Something flickers in her eyes. Recognition. Challenge. The girl who used to test my patience grew into a woman who could test my control.
"I should see him," she says, but doesn't move.
Neither do I. We stand there like idiots, tension crackling between us. She's close enough to touch. Close enough to?—
"Saoirse!" Niamh appears in the doorway, breaking the spell.
They embrace, and I watch Saoirse's perfect composure crack. Just for a second, but I see it. She's still human underneath all that polish.
Inside, Tiernan lies surrounded by machines that keep him breathing. The most feared man in Boston looks small in that hospital bed.
Saoirse stops in the doorway. I see her gather herself, pulling on that regal mask before approaching.
"Dad?"
His eyes flutter open. When he sees her, tears spill down weathered cheeks.
"My... little... princess."
She sits beside him with grace that would shame queens, but her hands shake as she takes his. The tremor lasts seconds before she controls it. Most people would miss it.
I don't miss anything about her. Never have.
"I'm here now," she whispers. "Everything will be fine."
I stand near the door, officially present but giving them space. Impossible when every cell in my body focuses on her. The elegant line of her neck. How her skirt rides up when she leans forward. The way her lips part when she concentrates.
Christ, I'm losing my mind.
"Conall," Tiernan's voice cuts through my spiral.
"Yes, sir?"
"Tell her... about the business."
Saoirse looks at me, and I see calculation behind those stunning eyes. She's not just here for daddy. She's here for the empire.
"Your brothers handle day-to-day operations," I say. "But long-term strategy..."
"Needs leadership," she finishes. "I understand."
More than understand. She's already thinking three moves ahead. Dangerous and brilliant—a combination that makes my blood sing.
Tiernan drifts off, exhausted. Saoirse stands, smoothing her skirt. The movement draws my eyes to her legs, and I imagine them wrapped around my waist.
Fuck. Professional thoughts, Devlin.
"I'll be in my old room," she tells Niamh. "Call if anything changes."
She walks past me, and her scent hits like a drug. Not the vanilla body spray from before. Something expensive that makes me think of rumpled sheets and morning sex.
"Thank you," she says quietly. "For keeping him safe."
"Always."
The word hangs between us, loaded with twenty years of unspoken want. Her pupils dilate, lips parting slightly. For a heartbeat, I think she might?—
"I know." She recovers, but something shifted. "We need to talk. Tonight."
"About security?"
Her smile turns wicked. "Among other things."
She leaves, and I stand there hard as a rock, watching her ass in that skirt. Twenty years of iron discipline, and she shatters it in minutes.
My phone buzzes. Security check-in. I pocket it and return to Tiernan.
He's awake, watching me with knowing eyes.
"You... see her?" he asks.
"Yes, sir."
"Good. She's... home now."
The way he says it suggests this isn't temporary. Saoirse's back to stay, which means my carefully controlled world just exploded.
I head for my office, but pass her bedroom. The door stands open, and she's bent over a suitcase, coat gone, wearing silk that clings to every curve.
When she straightens, our eyes lock through the doorway.
Heat flares between us, raw and hungry. Twenty years of suppressed desire condensed into one electric moment. She could have any man she wants. Probably has. But right now, she's looking at me like I'm the only person in the world.
She walks to the door, opens it wider. The movement makes her blouse pull tight across her breasts.
"Conall."
"Yes."
"That talk we need to have?" Her voice drops to whiskey-rough. "It's not about security."
My hands clench at my sides. "Saoirse?—"
"My room. Midnight." She steps closer, close enough that I smell her skin. "Don't make me wait."
She closes the door, leaving me in the hallway with a hard-on that could cut glass.
Twenty years of keeping Saoirse Kavanagh safe.
Tonight, I find out who's going to keep me safe from her.