58. Cian
Cian
The sleek black car rolls to a stop in front of the hotel, and Aoife slides into the passenger seat. Her short skirt rides up higher as she crosses her legs and pulls the door shut, the movement casual yet calculated.
"Where are we going?" she asks, her voice holding a guarded edge.
"Somewhere private," I reply.
The city fades in the rearview mirror, and the roads get rougher the farther we go. I take us toward a warehouse by the docks, a place I’ve recently acquired, the kind where no one looks too long or asks the wrong questions.
As the city fades behind us, Aoife shifts in her seat. "I have something to tell you."
I glance at her, arching a brow. "What is it, lass?"
"Ruairi’s gone because of me. I’m the reason he disappeared." Another beat of silence, heavier now. "I’m holding him," she finishes, her voice steady but tight.
My grip flexes and then relaxes as I take a slow breath. Then, I let out a short laugh, one without an ounce of humor.
"You’re fucking what?" I turn my head slightly, catching the way she watches me, calm and composed, like she didn’t just drop a fucking bomb in my lap.
"I have him," she says smoothly.
I shake my head as I focus back on the road. "And when, exactly, were you planning to share that little detail with me, lass?"
"I was hoping I could convince Ruairi to see reason first," she says, her voice tight.
"It would’ve made it easier to carry out the plan if he was on our side.
But I haven't had any luck." She lets out a frustrated breath.
"I wanted to tell you in person. This isn’t the kind of thing you say over the phone. "
"Right. Convenient." I let the word hang in the air, watching for a crack in her expression.
"It’s the truth," she says without hesitation.
I scoff, shaking my head again. "And here I was, wasting my time thinking O’Sullivan had something to do with his disappearance."
Aoife lifts her chin, a flash of defiance in her voice. "Seems like I solved the mystery then."
My fingers drum against the wheel. Being caught off guard isn’t something I tolerate easily. Still, I can’t help but be impressed.
"What’s your endgame?" I ask.
She leans back against the seat, her fingers toying with the hem of her skirt. "Payback."
Side-eyeing her, I respond, "Oh yeah? That simple?"
"Ruairi’s underestimated me my entire life. Kept me out of the Syndicate. Treated me like an afterthought. I wanted to show him that I’m not someone he can control,” she explains. “I had the opportunity, so I took it.”
A slow grin spreads across my face. "You’re fucking dangerous, Aoife."
"And you love it."
“I do,” I say, letting my hand drift over the gear shift, grazing my knuckles up her thigh.
She doesn’t flinch or pull away. She lifts a brow, challenging.
"I don’t know whether to be fucking impressed or pissed off," I admit.
"Why not both?"
I watch her for a second longer. "You’re something else, Aoife Quigley.”
A beat of silence stretches between us before I speak, keeping my tone casual. "Where is he?"
She hesitates. It’s quick. Barely noticeable. She’s not ready to give me that information.
"Aoife, you and I both know the only way this ends is with Ruairi gone. You already have him. All we need is to finish it."
She exhales slowly, looking out the window for a moment before speaking.
"There’s something else I haven’t told you,” she confesses.
I arch a brow, waiting.
She sighs, feigning uncertainty, like she’s weighing whether or not she should say it. "Since the night at the restaurant, Mr. O’Sullivan’s been pursuing me."
The question leaves my mouth like a low threat. “Has he now?”
She nods. "I’ve gone out with him a few times. Trying to get close. To learn whatever I can from him."
"You’re a mastermind, lass," I say, a grudging edge of admiration in my voice.
"I wanted to play with him a little first," she adds, a sly smile curling on her lips, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "See how much he would let slip if he thought he was winning me over. Find out just how far he'd be willing to go to take out Ruairi."
"You’re fucking ruthless, you know that?" I murmur, unable to hide the low, dark laugh that rumbles from my chest.
"You wouldn’t want me any other way."
She’s right. I slow the car as we approach the docks, parking in the shadow of the warehouse. "I just had a thought,” I say, slow and calculated. "With you inside O’Sullivan’s Syndicate, we don’t have to stop with Ruairi."
"What are you saying?" she asks.
"Think about it,” I smirk. “When Ruairi’s out of the picture, we take his Syndicate. But why stop there? We could take both of them."
She meets my gaze. "You want to take out Mr. O’Sullivan, too?"
"You and I together, Aoife." I reach out, trailing a finger along her jaw, watching her reaction. "We could rule it all."
She doesn’t pull away. But she doesn’t agree either.
Leaning back, I rest my arm against the window. "I’ve already put things in motion. With you having access to O’Sullivan, it makes my plans that much easier. Soon, we won’t have to worry about either of them."
"And what exactly have you put into motion?"
"Now, now. You know better than to ask me that." My fingers tap lazily against the steering wheel. "Let’s just say some wheels are already turning. And with you right where I need you, those wheels are about to crush everything in their path."
I shift my body, turning slightly toward her. "You trust me, don’t you?"
Aoife tilts her head, her lips curving into something between amusement and intrigue. "Sounds messy."
"A necessary mess," I counter smoothly. "You’re not afraid of getting your hands dirty, are you?"
She drags a nail along the hem of her skirt. "You know I’m not."
"Fuck, Aoife,” I say, my voice deepening. "You have no idea what you do to me.”
Before she can respond, I lean in, claiming her mouth. My fingers slide up her thigh, gripping hard enough to remind her exactly who she’s dealing with.
She lets it go on just long enough to tease before she pulls back slightly, her breath uneven but controlled. "Where are we?"
"Why don’t I show you?" Stepping out of the car, I move around to her side, opening her door. "Welcome to the beginning of our empire."
Aoife takes in the warehouse, her gaze sweeping across the vast space like she’s already envisioning what it could be. "It’s a bit rough around the edges," she says as she takes a few more steps inside.
"So was your father’s empire when he took over. This place needs the right hands to shape it into something unstoppable."
She turns, looking at me with a slow, knowing smile. "Good thing you have me, then."
Fucking hell. I drag a hand over my jaw. "You really do know how to keep a man on his toes."
She smirks a glint of mischief in her eyes. "What’s the fun in being predictable?"
I lean closer, letting my voice drop. "Predictable’s never been what I want from you."
"I can see it now,” she says as she walks further into the space. “The two of us, running everything. No Ruairi. No O’Sullivan. Just power."
"You sound like you’re already convinced."
She exhales a quiet laugh, trailing a hand along the rusted edge of a shipping container. "I didn’t go through the trouble of taking Ruairi to stop now."
Her confidence is fucking intoxicating.
"That’s what I like to hear," I say, stepping in and closing the space between us.
"But if I’m in, I’m all in.” She meets my gaze, unwavering. “That means no secrets, no half-truths. If we’re doing this together, I have a voice in every step. After all, I’m the one who has access to both Ruairi and Mr. O’Sullivan."
Fuck me.
A slow, dark grin curves my lips as my fingers trail along her jaw, tracing the line to the hollow of her throat. "You have no idea how much that turns me on."