15. Ciaran
Ciaran
Adeline hangs up on me, and my fingers curl around my phone, fighting the urge to throw the damn thing.
How the hell did we go from never fucking to constantly fucking for three days in a row to now arguing about. . . shit?
I fucked up by sending her that video, but I had no idea where the attitude had come from when she texted yesterday. And she caught me at a bad time, Monday afternoon.
Our meeting with Walsh wasn’t what we were hoping for.
Both Uncle Cormac and I feel like there should have been more movement, but instead we got a stilted, small talk sort of conversation.
Walsh and my father kept side-eyeing each other, some private conversation playing out.
It put Cormac on edge, and that in turn set me on fire.
Da should be helping me, but it’s like the other week. He’s stonewalling me, and for what? He’s never been an active father, but at the very least he can try, just once, to help his own son out.
This shit with Adeline pricks into me, an added layer of dissension in all my perfectly laid plans. The message was loud and clear when she turned her phone off, as if I didn’t have other ways of tracking her movement.
I’d woken up early again today, with the idea of meeting with her before class and buying her a coffee. It’s increasingly becoming my token of affection, this simple treat that’s more sugar and milk than actual coffee content.
But Cormac had called us all in for a breakfast meeting. I didn’t have to message any of my cousins to know what sort of mood our uncle was in.
When I’d placed lunch on Adeline’s calendar, I’d noticed the day blocked off. No information was added, though, and she’d gone to class like usual. Her doctor’s appointments are clearly labeled so I knew it wasn’t that, and important dates and reminders are color coded.
In hindsight, it’d been wishful thinking that the blocked off date had been some sort of error, something incorrectly added. Adeline doesn’t fuck around with her calendar. If anything, she puts too much shit on her phone, with no security protections whatsoever.
She knows Jack Rollings because she’s literally typed out notes that would make any prosecutors drool.
I track her phone, staring at the location. A search result identifies it as a bookstore.
Seamus whistles under his breath, coming into the room. I’m still at Cormac’s place, a multi-room flat that’s ten times nicer than my place.
“You’ve fucked up.” Seamus drops onto the sofa, spreading his arms out wide, with a shit eating smirk on his face. His phone is in his hands.
“What the fuck are you talking about?” I hadn’t told anyone about possibly getting close to Rollings, so there’s no way he could know I’ve fucked that plan already.
But what he says might just be worse. He tsks under his breath. “Your girl is not happy with you.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” I ask again, a deep coil of dread unfurling in the pit of my stomach.
He holds up his phone. “You’ve clearly not seen Adeline’s latest post.”
“How do you—”
Seamus shoots me his classic smart aleck look. “You think we wouldn’t find out? Nah, Uncle Cormac was bragging the other day about how you’d swept the Akatov princess off her feet. We were just waiting to see if you’d fucking mention it.”
Uncle Cormac knows about Adeline? Then again, a room full of people did see me with her father the other night. Even before that, Cain Murray had somehow known. And if my da had found out, of course Uncle Cormac would too.
“Now I know why you never mentioned it, though.” Seamus points to his phone. “You’ve already fucked it up, you eejit.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” I swipe for his phone, but he dodges, the shit-eating smirk growing. I pull up Adeline’s Instagram.
An hour ago she posted a photo of pink peonies, a bouquet quadruple the size of a normal one.
TheAdelineAkatov: I can buy my own flowers thanks
Kick me in the fucking teeth already.
“What, what are you doing?” My scowl grows when I notice Seamus laughing to himself as he types something. I pull his phone away from him.
ShayO: Look Ciaran means well, but you just need a real O’Connell if you know what I mean.
“A fucking winking face!”
Seamus, laughing, grabs his phone back. “I may as well shoot my shot like the rest of them.”
The post already has thousands of likes and hundreds of comments.
Who upset you queen? You need a man, my love. Men don’t play around like boys. Please just give me a chance, I promise we’ll be great together. Girl, I told you to stop playing with men and just become a lesbian.
I use restraint, reminding myself I can’t afford a new phone if I smash this one to pieces. Things don’t go well when the last person I want to speak to calls me.
I grit my teeth. “Hello.”
“Why you sounding so glum, son?” Da asks, his overly thick accented voice grating on me.
I clear my throat. “Heartburn.”
Seamus snorts.
“What’s up?” I ask Da.
“Wanted to see if you were available for dinner this week?”
He’s talked about grabbing dinner since I got here. I never actually thought an invitation would materialize, though, this still leaves room for him to flake out at the last minute.
“I’ve got a lot going on.” I’m not being petulant. “I’ve got Leon’s coming up.”
Da’s laugh sounds like a ‘woo-hoo,’ a perfectly annoying trinkle. “I am so looking forward to it.”
I don’t have to see him to know he’s shaking a fist in the air, his boundless, drunken energy keeping him afloat.
Of course the fight at Leon’s would be the one place he shows up to support me. It’ll be a hive of people we know, an opportunity for him to show me off as if he had any role in my upbringing.
“How about the week after that?” Da offers. “Let’s have a sit down, you and I and Walsh.”
And Walsh? My eyebrows smush together as I frown. “What?”
“Yeah,” Da ambles on. “Walsh would like to do dinner.”
It’s the only reason Da is calling. Not because of a father and son dinner but because Walsh, the head of the Irish Mafia, is requesting a sit down meeting.
“And Uncle Cormac?”
Da clicks his tongue. “Just us lads, you know.”
As if we’re just popping off to the pub with Walsh of all people.
“Dad, I. . .” Part of me wants to believe it’s just a friendly dinner. But it’s one thing if Da is showing off in front of his boss, a fine father figure. Except Walsh is the one who wants to do dinner.
And only with me.
“Da,” I try again. “It’s sort of a packaged deal. Me and Uncle Cormac.”
“My son who’s been making friends left and right since he got here, doesn’t want a meeting with Walsh?”
I’m walking a tightrope, and we both know it. “I’d hope Walsh understands loyalty.”
For the first time in my life, Da doesn’t have a ready-made reply.
There’s something like a sigh, and then his chipper voice bounces back. “Right. See you at the fight, son!”
“What was that?”
I turn to find Cormac standing in the doorway. Seamus shoves his phone back in his pocket.
“Have him tell you about his girl problems,” he says as he steps around Uncle Cormac.
The man frowns at me.
“Seamus doesn’t know his head from his arse.” I roll my eyes. “And that was just my da being his usual self. He’s going to be at the fight.”
Cormac nods. “Good. He needs to see that you’re a winner. What’s this about Adeline, then?”
Her name glides smoothly out of his mouth like she’s someone we commonly refer to.
“Nothing. Seamus is just talking shit.” I don’t hide shit from Uncle Cormac.
I kept the relationship private at first because after I took out Jack, I didn’t want anything to blow up in the O’Connell’s faces.
Yesterday’s fight with Adeline is also out of bounds.
Something between me and her and, apparently, her millions of Instagram followers.
Cormac continues to study me until his phone rings. He gives me one last fatherly look as if to say he knows everything. It’s the same face he used to make when he caught me trying to steal cookies as a kid.
As soon as he’s gone, I check Adeline’s location again. She’s back at her dorm. But thirty minutes later the dot travels in a direction I know well.
Pulling the cameras up, I watch Adeline unlock my front door. I’d left her a key when I’d headed out on Monday.
She drops her backpack on the ground, shucking her shoes off like usual, and pads into the bedroom. She uses the toilet and comes back into the living room, now wearing a pair of sweatpants.
She opens the fridge, then plops onto the sofa. I squint at my phone, trying to understand why the fuck she’s holding a brick in her hand. A second later, I realize it’s a massive hardback book.
Adeline settles in some weird position, holding it close to her face.
I’m called into Cormac’s office, but for the next hour, every time I check my phone, I find Adeline on my sofa, reading.
Sometimes her knees sway, other times she stretches her legs out over the back of the sofa. If she’s not careful and drops the book on her face, I’m certain it’s heavy enough to break her nose.
She never breaks her concentration. Adeline is completely absorbed in her reading.
The guard posted right outside my flat smirks when he sees me stepping out onto the landing. I ignore him, not showing any signs of irritation despite the fact our shoulders aren’t even an inch apart when I unlock my door.
Adeline jerks upright, the book crushing against her chest.
I drop my phone, keys, and wallet onto the kitchen counter. My shoes line up beside Adeline’s. “Your guard is right outside my door.”
Her frown is cute when it’s not directed at me. She hates her guard as much as I do, but now that Boris is aware that Wallen is making threats, he’s ramped up her protection.
Adeline shuffles past me, opening the door, clearly irritated that her guard hasn’t shuffled off into the shadows like usual. “Marco, shoo, get out of here.”
She doesn’t like his reply. “You and my dad might think this is funny, but it won’t be when I call your wife.”