Chapter Twenty
RONAN
I decide to make the most of having Ciara out of the house by inviting Cormac over for a drink. The only time I’ve managed to speak to him one-on-one was at our father’s wake, and if I have any chance of influencing his decision to stay in the city, it can’t be with Kieran present.
It’s strange how quiet the house feels these days, even when Ciara’s home. It’s like the house is holding its breath, waiting for something, or rather someone.
There is a knock at the front door, and I buzz Cormac in from the app on my phone.
A minute later, he walks into the study, looking as if he’s stepping into enemy territory.
I try not to react to the solemn expression on his face, hating how distant he’s become. With only three years between us, we were extremely close growing up…until we weren’t.
Part of me selfishly wants Cormac to remain in New York, not just for the sake of our business, but because he’s my brother.
Our father’s death has served as a reminder that just being Sullivans doesn’t make us immortal, and I want to spend as much time as possible with my family because we never know how long we have left.
"I didn’t think you’d ever invite me for a drink again after what went down at Kieran’s the other night." He tries to play it cool, but the invisible weight on his shoulders is clear as day.
I pour us both a glass of whiskey and hand one to him before clinking mine against it.
"I’m not in the business of grudges, at least not with blood."
Cormac takes a sip of his drink and hisses through his teeth. “This shit is good. Dad really had good taste.”
“He sure did.”
We settle into the two leather armchairs that face the fireplace, though the hearth hasn’t seen a flame in weeks, and for a moment, we just sit in silence.
He takes a sip. "Have you heard much from Lorcan?"
I shake my head as I cross an ankle over a knee. "He's been quiet since the funeral. I think he’s still trying to make sense of things."
"Kieran definitely isn’t." Cormac huffs a hollow laugh. "I swear he thinks I’m the one who shot Da, from the way he treats me.”
"You didn’t, and he knows it."
"Does he?" Cormac’s eyes darken as he looks at me. "It feels like he’s just waiting for me to disappear again."
"And why haven’t you?"
His jaw tenses as he looks away. “Because of Da, I guess.” He swirls the whiskey in his glass. “Because I didn’t come back just to leave again, no matter how much some people might want me to.”
I nod slowly, internally battling with myself to reveal everything about the clause in our father’s will. I know it’s in my best interest for Cormac to stay, but I want him to choose to do so because of the right reasons.
And if he decides not to? Well, I’ll just have to deal with that if it happens.
His eyes are on his glass. “Are you ever going to tell the others why I left?”
I meet my brother’s gaze with curiosity. “Is that something you want me to do?”
Cormac shakes his head before downing the rest of his whiskey in one gulp. “Not yet.”
“Then I won’t,” I promise him.
As much as I think telling Kieran and Brennan the truth is the only way forward if we have any chance of repairing the relationship between all of us, I have to respect Cormac’s decision. So, I’ll keep my opinions to myself and stay silent if that’s what it takes to keep my brother at my side.
After a few more whiskeys, I see Cormac out after he promises to stop by again in a few days and head back into my office.
Ciara still isn’t home, but I’m not too worried. I have a tracker on the Range Rover, which is one of the reasons I gave it to her, as well as her keys. From a quick check of my app, I can see she’s on her way back home, and I exhale.
Part of me genuinely thought she might be stupid enough to make a run for it, and I am seriously not in the mood to chase her down on the highway.
I swipe out of the app and open up my inbox when an incoming call from Callum interrupts me, and I groan.
He’s been surprisingly quiet since the wedding, and I hoped it would stay that way. Having one McCarthy to deal with is enough for me.
I answer, knowing exactly what this is about before Callum even speaks.
“Ronan.” His voice is clipped. “We need to talk.”
“Then talk.” I don’t bother hiding the irritation in my tone.
“This marriage… It’s not exactly benefiting my family the way you promised. It seems you’re getting all the benefits from this union while we’re getting nothing.”
“Your sister is getting plenty of benefits, trust me.”
For a second, I wish Callum was in the room, if only so I could see the look on his face.
While I might not have technically fucked his sister, he doesn’t need to know that. And from the sounds of it, he’d do well to remember that she’s living under my roof and is completely at my mercy.
“I want to arrange a meeting to discuss strategy,” he eventually says, and I roll my eyes.
“You’re serious?”
“I wouldn’t have called if I wasn’t.”
“In case you’ve forgotten, Callum, your family was circling the drain until I decided to do you a favor and stepped in.”
His answering silence only makes me want to push the knife in farther.
“You want to talk about fairness? Consider where you’d be right now without this alliance, then ask yourself if this call was a good idea.”
He hangs up without another word, and I huff a laugh.
Smart man.
I set down my phone on the desk and lean back in my chair, glancing out of the window.
The Range Rover is cutting a smooth path up the driveway, and my blood instantly heats.
I’m pissed as hell after the call with Callum, and what better way to let off some steam than to rile Ciara up. It’s truly becoming one of my favorite pastimes.
I head out of the study and toward the kitchen just in time to hear the door to the garage slam shut.
My lips twitch when I enter the kitchen as Ciara dumps what looks to be a load of crap on the island.
She doesn’t even look up as I approach her, which grates on my nerves.
“Have you always been this messy?” I gesture at the discarded coffee cup and random bags she brought in from the car. “Or is this just for my benefit?”
She looks up at me then, her eyebrows raised and her green eyes blazing. “Seriously?”
“It’s just a question.” I tuck my hands into my pockets. “I wouldn’t want you thinking your only job around here is to keep the bed warm.”
Her jaw tightens as she snatches her coffee cup off of the counter and tosses it in the trash. “Is it exhausting being this much of an asshole, or does it come naturally?”
I smirk as I lean against the island, my eyes glued to her ass as she moves around the kitchen. I swear, she wore that short skirt just to tease me, and unfortunately for me, it’s working.
“Pretty naturally,” I grunt as I adjust myself.
She shoots me another glare over her shoulder, and I bite the inside of my cheek to prevent my grin.
“I had a great day, by the way, thanks for asking,” she mutters under her breath as she passes me.
I grab her wrist, halting her in her tracks. “If you want the kind of marriage where we talk about our days, Tine Bheag, I suggest you start holding up your end of the bargain, starting with picking up around the house.”
She pulls against my grip, but I only tighten it, and her eyes flash as she looks up at me under her long lashes.
“I’m not your maid.”
“No, you’re just a traitor’s daughter playing dress-up in my house.” I regret the words the second they leave my mouth.
This time when she pulls away, I let her go, silently cursing myself for taking it too far.
“You want to talk about traitors? You’re the one who spread lies about my father. You and your damn family ruined him. You’re the reason he killed himself—”
Her voice cracks, and she looks away, but not before I notice her eyes glistening with unshed tears.
Fuck.
It wasn’t supposed to go this far. But I refuse to apologize for speaking the truth when it comes to her father. He was a traitor, and Ciara would do well to realize that.
I step toward her, and when she immediately backs away, I bristle, but I take another step in the hope of turning her pain into anger.
At least anger is something I understand and know how to deal with.
“You really think you know the whole story?” I close the distance between us.
“I know enough—”
“You don’t know shit.” I brace my hands on the counter on either side of her, caging her in my arms.
Her back hits the marble edge, but she doesn’t flinch. Instead, she simply glares up at me as she folds her arms over her chest.
“Get out of my face, Ronan.”
“You seemed pretty fucking happy with me in your face the other night.” I lean in close, letting my gaze purposefully flick to her chest. “Especially, when my face was buried in that sweet little pussy of yours.”
Her cheeks flush a deep crimson as her throat bobs. “That was clearly a lapse in judgment.”
“Oh, yeah?” I murmur in her ear. “Is that what you tell yourself when you get yourself off thinking about me? Because I heard you through the wall the other night, and I’m pretty sure it was my name on your lips as you climaxed—”
Her hands are on my chest, pushing at me, but I don’t move an inch.
“You’re a monster.”
I slam my fist on the marble counter next to her, hard enough to make her jump.
“But you’re the one kissing the monster back, so what does that make you?”
“What do you mean—”
Before she can finish, my lips crash against hers in a tangle of teeth and tongues.
To my surprise, she doesn’t try to push me away. Instead, her fingers sink into my shirt, pulling me closer as I force my tongue into her mouth.
I wrap my left hand around her neck and tilt her head up so I can kiss her deeper, groaning as my tongue strokes against hers.
She tastes of chocolate and coffee, and I can’t seem to get enough. I want to devour her mouth like I did her pussy the other night.
I want to taste her on my tongue for days to come.
My cock is already straining against my zipper, and I can’t help but buck my hips against Ciara, causing her to gasp as I rub against her.
"You want to keep playing games with me, princess?" I growl against her mouth as I move my hands to her ass and lift her effortlessly onto the counter. "Is that it?"
“Fuck you,” she gasps as I step forward to stand between her thighs.
“Oh, believe me, sweetheart, you will.”