Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
RONAN
The cemetery is quiet as we all stand around the freshly dug grave.
No one cries. My father would have hated it if we did. He was never one to show or allow emotion, especially when it came to death.
But just because I can’t show it, doesn’t mean I’m not hurting. So, I grind my teeth together and ball my hands into fists at my sides to try and ignore the gut-wrenching pain in my chest as I stare down at his coffin.
This is where his story ends, but his voice still echoes in my head like he’s standing with me, telling me to fix my goddamn tie and quit scowling.
I do neither.
Brennan stands to my left with his hands clasped in front of him like he’s at mass, his eyes cast downward. Kieran stands on my right side, his jaw clenched and a dark look in his eyes.
I glance around at the other family members, including Lorcan, as well as old friends of my father’s and a few of our most trusted men.
We decided to keep the funeral small, with just enough people to make a statement but not enough to draw attention.
Today isn’t about politics. It’s about saying goodbye to Da.
I catch Lorcan’s eye across the grave and dip my chin at him.
He’s done well to keep it together for my brothers and me, but this ordeal has taken its toll in the dark purple bruising beneath his eyes and the deep crease between his eyebrows.
My eyes scan our surroundings as the priest continues with his blessing.
It’s a bleak day, and the sun is hidden behind an expanse of dark rain clouds, which look like they’re about to open up any minute. It’s likely the press is hidden around, and despite the fact that we have security everywhere, I can’t help but feel uneasy.
Is whoever shot my father going to show up for round two?
I feel for the gun tucked into my waistband as I continue to scan the trees.
And then I see him.
Cormac.
My brother is standing just far enough away to stay in the shadows of the trees but close enough to see everything, his expression completely unreadable.
He couldn’t be bothered to return a damn phone call, yet he got on a plane from California to be here?
When my family was getting ready at the house this morning and Cormac was still a no-show, part of me genuinely thought he didn’t know about our father’s death. That he had been on some massive bender, turned his phone off, and was still to hear the news.
But to avoid all media coverage of our father’s death would have been near impossible. The press has been salivating over this for days, but he never once called to even acknowledge it.
So, why is he here, watching from a distance?
Then again, that’s been Cormac’s style for the past few years.
As I look at my brother, a heavy weight settles on my chest. Part of me wants to abandon the graveside and go to him, to demand he tell me what the hell is going on, but I know better.
Cormac doesn’t want to be seen. At least not yet. He’s always been the kind of man who comes back on his terms, and I have to respect that.
So, I turn my attention back to the grave with my jaw clenched and let him have his distance.
Later, the funeral party gathers in the upstairs private room of one of our father’s favorite haunts, The Blackthorn.
It’s an intimate setting with low lighting and dark polished furniture, similar to that in our father’s study back at our estate. A low fire burns in the grate, and next to it, a few of my father’s friends have taken up residence in order to enjoy their cigars.
My brothers and I stand near the private bar, sipping on whiskey and sharing stories of Da that result in laughter rather than tears, which is exactly what he would have wanted.
Kieran lifts his glass in the air. “To the most stubborn bastard I’ve ever met.”
I huff a laugh as Brennan and I raise our glasses.
“To Da,” we all chant in unison.
I down the rest of my glass and set it on the bar for a refill.
My jacket is long gone, and I’ve rolled my shirt sleeves up to the elbows as the sweltering heat of the room warms my skin.
Brennan swirls the amber liquid around in his glass. “He had his flaws as a father, but who among us is perfect? Truth is, he was a good man. He might have made enemies faster than friends, but only because he’d die for the ones he loved.”
Kieran scowls as he glances between me and Brennan, pulling at his tie to loosen it. “Still feels wrong without Cormac here. It’s disrespectful not to show his face at his own father’s funeral, regardless of the relationship we had with him.”
I stiffen at his words, but I don’t correct him.
I thought perhaps Cormac might make an appearance at the wake so as not to draw the attention away from our father at the graveside.
But the more whiskey that’s poured and the darker the sky becomes outside the window, the more I lose hope that Cormac will show his face.
Brennan shakes his head. “They had issues, way bigger than you and I had with Da treating us as second-class kids, so I’m not surprised he bailed.”
“I never understood what the hell happened between them.” Kieran glances at me. “You know, don’t you?”
I meet his gaze and shrug. “Not my story to tell.”
Kieran frowns, clearly unsatisfied by my answer, but he lets it go, nonetheless.
The door creaks open behind me, and I immediately notice the shift in the room as every pair of eyes collectively widens.
“Cormac,” Kieran growls.
I spin around, and my brother is stalking into the room like a shadow come to life.
He looks broader than the last time I saw him, but he still has that same cool detachment about him that always used to grate on our father’s nerves.
I cross over to him in an instant, and when he sees me, his dark eyes soften slightly.
“Welcome home.” I hug him tightly.
“Didn’t know if I’d be welcome,” he mutters under his breath.
“By me, always. As for the rest of them, we’re about to find out.” I pull away but still keep a hand on his shoulder as I lead him over to the rest of the family.
Kieran remains seated on the bar stool as he glares at Cormac, disgust in his eyes. “You couldn’t show up two hours earlier? To say goodbye to your fucking father?”
To Cormac’s credit, he doesn’t even flinch despite the venom in Kieran’s tone. “I was there.”
“Watching from the sidelines like a fucking coward.”
“Kieran,” I warn as the conversations grind to a halt, and all eyes turn to us. “Back off.”
“He left, Ronan. He walked away from us, and now he just gets to walk back in and, what? Pretend like nothing happened?”
Cormac’s jaw ticks. “I’m not pretending anything.”
“Good.” Kieran gets to his feet. “Because none of this erases the last few years.”
I step between them and place a hand on Kieran’s shoulder, squeezing hard.
“You’ve had a few drinks.”
He laughs bitterly. “So?”
“So, now is not the time to say something you’ll regret.”
He looks like he’s about to prove me right when my phone starts ringing, cutting through the tension like a knife.
When I pull it out of my pocket and see it’s my father’s attorney calling, I exhale slowly.
“Keep quiet if you can’t be nice,” I warn Kieran and Cormac before putting my phone to my ear and stepping into the dark stairwell that leads to the downstairs area of the pub. “This is Ronan.”
“Mr. Sullivan,” a nasal voice replies. “It’s Mr. Andrews.”
“I know.”
“I’m just calling to let you know that your father’s will has been executed and that you and your brothers now hold control of all family assets and operations.”
I glance behind me at the door.
The fact that there is no yelling is a good sign, though I have no doubt that the moment we’re back at the estate, Kieran and Cormac will rip into each other like a pair of fighting dogs.
That is, if Cormac is planning on hanging around.
“Understood.”
“There’s one condition,” Mr. Andrews adds.
“Of course, there is,” I mutter, running a hand over my freshly shaven jaw. “Spit it out, then.”
“Your father made it very clear that in order for you to maintain leadership over the family, your brother Cormac must agree to return to New York. Permanently.”
I close my eyes and exhale through my nose. “Got it.”
Trust my father to add in a near-impossible clause in order to reunite his sons.
Hanging up the phone, I stuff it back into my pocket and head back into the private room in order to speak with my brothers. But already, Cormac is nowhere to be found.
I turn to Kieran. “What the hell did you say to him?”
“Kept my mouth shut like you ordered, brother.” He uses that tone which always grates on my nerves.
“I swear to god, Kieran—”
Brennan tilts his head to the door on the back. “He’s out on the terrace.”
I stare daggers at Kieran as I clap my youngest brother on the shoulder before making my way across the room and dipping out the back exit which leads to a small smoking terrace.
Cormac is standing at the very edge of the roof, looking at the city skyline. He doesn’t turn when I join him, and for a moment, we stand in silence.
“I saw you at the cemetery.”
“I know.”
“You could have come over, you know?”
“I don’t think I could, if we go by Kieran’s reaction. Better to let the attention go to where it is needed.”
“Yeah, well, Kieran isn’t the kind of guy to roll out the red carpet.”
Cormac huffs a laugh. “Didn’t expect him to. I’m not exactly his favorite person.”
I glance over at him, noticing how much older he looks. His dark hair is cropped shorter than I remember, and the lines on his face have become more prominent, despite him not even being thirty yet.
“How long are you staying?”
His gaze falls to the ground. “Not sure.”
“You should know that Dad left us all equal control of the family business, but he named me as the one in charge.”
Cormac raises a brow as he glances at me.
“No surprise there.”
“But there’s a clause.”
“There always is.” He rolls his eyes. “How bad is it?”
“That depends.”
“On what?”
“You.”
Cormac’s head snaps up as he turns to face me with something like panic in his eyes. “What does he want?”
“He wants you to move back to the city, to present a united front.”
It’s not a complete lie, but it’s also not the entire truth, either. But Cormac doesn’t need to know that yet.
“Fuck.” He runs his fingers through his hair. “He really loved forcing us into impossible positions, didn’t he?”
I don’t disagree. “And I’m not saying this to pressure you, but with Ciara and I getting married in five days, the wolves are watching, and we do need to present that united front.”
“Ciara? As in the McCarthy chick?”
“It’s a long story.”
“Oh, I bet.” He shakes his head, smirking. “Shit, brother, you have a lot to fill me in on.”
“That would involve you sticking around.”
His jaw tightens as he looks back at the city skyline, a city he hasn’t called home in a number of years.
But if our family is to have any chance of keeping its power, that’s going to have to change.
“Just… say you’ll think about it.”
“Fine.” He sighs, still not looking at me. “I’ll think about it.”
As I head back inside, leaving Cormac to his thoughts, my mind shifts to the wedding—and more specifically, to Ciara.
Five days.
That’s all the time I have left before I legally tie myself and my family to the one woman who awakens something in me, the same woman who wants to ruin me.