Chapter 4
“ R un that by me again, this time like I’m some pimple faced teenager fresh from St Theresa’s,” Ciaran drawls, leaning forward to brace his forearms on his knees. His slightly less psychotic but way more neurotic twin, Brennan, hovers behind the sofa, looking equal parts confused and intrigued.
“Jesus Christ. Did you hit your head? What’s so fucking hard to understand?
It’s the same shit we’ve been doing, just to a higher degree.
Johnny needs our help picking up the slack while Senior’s busy.
If we can find out what the hell Graham is up to at the same time?
Even better.” Seamus’ blind trust is both a curse and a blessing.
There are days the weight of it threatens to pull me under, but then the next day, it’ll have me feeling higher than an addict after their latest fix.
Responsibility may be my birthright as much as the Four Points empire, but that doesn’t make it a comfortable skin to wear.
“Where the hell will Senior be while we run the show?” Bren drawls, eyes narrowed in on me. Fucker always was too suspicions for his own good. Or, in this case, my own good.
“Busy. Now, can we focus, or should I let him know you’re questioning his orders?” I throw back.
“This is fucking bullshit. We’re expected to break our backs running this shitshow while he, what?
Fucks some whore? And gets all the credit at the same time?
Fuck that,” Ciaran fumes, destroying the last remnants of my patience.
In seconds, I have him shoved against a wall, fist pulled back, ready to unleash the pent-up emotions that have had me in a chokehold for longer than I care to admit.
“Calm the fuck down, both of you. Jonathan, you know damn well we’re on your side. Always have been and always will be. Ciaran, pipe the fuck down for once, would you?” The frustration dripping from Jack’s tone as he wedges his way between us, breaking my hold on Ciaran, says it all.
“If you can’t give us, who are on your side, an answer, then how the fuck do you think you’ll stand up to being quizzed by the others?
It’s already suspicious that he wouldn’t tell them he’s preoccupied himself, never mind when you factor in his disappearing act lately.
You can’t afford to be overly defensive,” Declan adds, ever the voice of reason.
Letting out a grunt, I begrudgingly step away from Ciaran.
“He’s out of the country, okay? That’s all I’m at liberty to say.” I exhale slowly, tossing him the letter I had Da sign and date earlier. Silently, Declan scans it before passing it back to me with little more than a nod of acknowledgement.
“Great. Now, what’s the first thing you need us to tackle?” Seamus cuts in, trying to wrangle us back on track.
“We need to split up. I’m needed back at O’Neill’s HQ, but I can work on fielding his emails and staying on top of all things Four Points while I’m there.
Bren and Jack, take the clubs. Make sure the girls are safe, and the men are happy, yeah?
Ciaran, keep an eye on our new recruits.
Weed out any who either won’t make it or seem suspicious; get Dec to help you.
Seamus, you take the restaurants. In the meantime, keep your ears to the ground.
If you hear so much as a whisper of discontent, tell me.
If you hear anything about what Angus is up to, dig as deep as you can without getting caught.
” With muttered agreements, they clear out, leaving me to my thoughts for the first time in days.
After getting Sheila’s niece to come to the house, things have been chaotic.
It only took Dr Hawkins a few tests to determine the worst: stage 4 lung cancer.
Before the news had even sunk in, they were talking about treatment plans and begging me to get him to agree to a trip to the hospital.
Easier said than done. Da is determined to keep this under wraps until the bitter end, consequences be damned.
Thoughts of the fallout this will cause for the Four Points is enough to give me a headache.
Sure, I’m his only heir, and he has been training me since before I could walk to follow in his footsteps, but the fact remains: currently, I am not his underboss, his consigliere, or anything else, nor have I been recognised as his successor.
Right now, it would be easier to get a seat at the royal family’s dinner table than claim what’s rightfully mine.
Heading into the kitchen to grab my keys and briefcase, I pull out my phone to check in with Sheila. As much as she’s promised updates, I can’t help but worry.
“Good morning, Mr O’Neill,” she greets, sounding harried. Knowing Da, he’s probably making her life a living hell. Sitting still and taking orders is as foreign to him as stepping into his size nines is to me.
“How is he?”
“Nothing’s changed. The oxygen tank seems to be helping, but he’s still struggling without it, and his appetite has yet to return.
So far, the shakes seem to be going well, but he’s still got a lot of weight to regain.
Sharon and Dr Hawkins are taking turns keeping watch over him.
” Her run down does little to comfort me, but at least things aren’t worsening.
With a gruff reminder to contact me—night or day—if anything changes, I hang up before dipping into my Bugatti and making the short commute to HQ.
It’s not until I’m walking the executive floor alone that I realise there’s a sense of quiet that feels out of place.
I’ve never once entered this building without Brenda ready to flank me to my office, giving me a summary of things with a coffee either in hand or waiting for me on my desk.
Yet today, nothing but silence greets me.
Frowning, I set my things on my desk before heading back out to find out where the hell my assistant is.
It’s not like her not to communicate with me if she’s not going to be here—I can count on one hand the number of times that has happened over the last three years.
Finding her desk cleared out and all her personal touches missing, I head out to the hallway on the hunt for answers.
“You. What’s your name?” I bark at the first person I see, some terrified kid who looks like he just left school. Granted, we’re probably only a few years apart, but I doubt this kid has ever so much as killed an insect, never mind something a little more…living.
“S…Sa-ul, sir,” he squeaks, going fire engine red at the crack in his voice.
“Where’s Brenda?” Jerking my thumb back at my office, I watch as his eyes grow impossibly wide while he struggles to stutter out a response.
“She’s not here,” he finally chokes out. Feeling a headache coming, I pinch the bridge of my nose and let out a breath before I snap this kid’s neck.
“I can see that. What I want to know is where she is and when she’ll be back,” I retort, watching him shrink in fear as he scrambles for something to say. Poor kid wouldn’t last five minutes in the Points.
“Jonathan.” The sharp click of high heels and the even sharper snap of my name draws my attention away from Saul.
Turning to face the fierce redhead currently stalking my way, I hold my hands up in mock defence.
Donna is our head honcho up in HR, not someone you want to fuck with.
She’s also Jack’s soon-to-be wife. It’s unclear which taught her to be a chief ballbuster, but I know I couldn’t run this place without her.
“Yes?” I drawl, quirking an eyebrow at her as she advances on me until she’s only a few feet away .
“Let’s walk and talk, shall we?” It’s not really a question, but I humour her by nodding along and following as she leads us back to my office.
“Cut to the chase, Donna. Where’s my EA?” Sighing, I hold my office door open for her before following her in. It’s barely even eight and, already, today has been far too fucking long.
“Brenda no longer works for us.”
“What? How did this happen? I was only out of the office a couple of days.” I frown, trying to recall if she had mentioned being unhappy. “Did we offer her a raise? More annual leave?”
“All of that and more, but she wanted to be at home to look after her grandkids, and her son in law was willing to pay her. She didn’t even hand in her notice, forgoing her final pay check in her hurry to get out of here.
” Her words are a well-aimed arrow that have me grabbing my chest, feigning being wounded.
“I did nothing, your honour. You have my word.”
“Likely story. Either way, you’re down an EA until I can get you a replacement. The plan was for Saul to step in, but I can see that’s not going to work,” she muses, taking a seat in front of my desk.
“That kid? How’d he even get a job here?” I snort, moving my chair so I can take a seat.
“Watch your tone. He’s only a year younger than you, so I’d lay off the kid remarks. And he’s surprisingly good at what he does. But moving on from him: how about Ella? She could make a good stand in,” she offers, naming her executive assistant.
“Fine, but how long is it going to take to get a replacement? This is the last thing I need right now.” I blow out a breath, trying to do the mental maths of the hiring process.
I need someone competent, and I need them now.
I’ve no doubt Jack will have shared some of our meeting with her, so surely, she understands the why without me having to spell it out to her.
“Hopefully, not too long. I have the first batch of interviews scheduled for later today, with the last few wrapped up by Friday afternoon. We should have it narrowed down to the top candidates for you to review by Monday afternoon, and then we’ll expedite the pre-employment checks,” she reassures me before pinning me under her mother hen look and asking, “Now, enough about all that. How’s the family situation? ”
“Stressful, but what family situation isn’t?” I toss her a smile. “I want to sit in on the interviews.”
“That’s not a good idea. Don’t you remember the last time? You scared them half to death,” she reminds me with an eye roll before chucking the pen that’s always wedged either in her hair or behind her ear at me.
Dodging it with a chuckle, I hold up my hands. “And weeding out the ones who wouldn’t last a week is a bad thing?” At her pointed glare, I concede. “Fine. I won’t say anything, you’ll hardly notice I’m there.”
“Give me your word,” she demands, her eyes narrowing into slits.
“You have my word.” After assessing me for a moment, she gives me the details with a roll of her eyes before leaving me to catch up on what I missed.