Ciaran
Adeline left with her mother, leaving my flat far emptier than I liked. I forced myself back to work, talked more about Wallen with my uncle, and waited for my phone to light up with a message.
I knew it wasn’t likely she’d immediately text me. Her skin had a gray pallor to it when she left, her body moving stiffly. She needed to sleep. Wishing she’d message me was selfish, but it didn’t mean I stopped checking my phone.
It’s been three days since she got sick, and I’m trying to think of a polite way to tell her to get over it. She’s acting shy, like she could have done anything to stop food poisoning.
She’s been staying at her parents, and normally, I would make a princess joke about her guards driving her into the city for class.
But if she’s not going to stay with me, then I know the next best thing is letting her be pampered by her parents.
Her two obnoxious roommates aren’t going to make her feel better.
That doesn’t mean she should be avoiding me. I called her once, her voice weak. She’d sounded so tired, I’d let her go quickly. She’s stressed about missing two days of class and sent me a video of a cat typing fast to explain how she’s getting back on track.
“Don’t you do it. Don’t you fucking do it!” Seamus groans into his hands. My cousins are watching an international football match, Ireland trying to secure their World Cup spot.
Instead of watching with them, I’m pacing back and forth in Cormac’s flat. I’m wearing a black suit with a black button-down, appropriately reflecting how I feel.
“Just go and be her nursemaid already,” Seamus says, his eyes on the TV. His brother, Dermot, sits beside him and snorts.
I ignore them, pacing.
Uncle Cormac comes into the room, pouring himself a whiskey at the wet bar. He offers me one, and I say to hell with it. He’s poured the good stuff.
“The meeting with Wallen is set for next week.”
He’s not stopped talking about it.
“You’re going to be ready for it?” he asks.
“You know I will be.”
A giant grin is plastered across his lips. It should be infectious. “We’re going to go back to Dublin like kings.”
Cormac is proud, but he usually limits his smugness. The months here are paying off, though.
“Steady on,” I joke. That's what he tells me when I start to get a big head.
He laughs into his drink, his eyes widening when he spots my phone.
I lift the device, staring at the name flashing across the screen.
After I’d hacked Adeline’s phone, I’d programmed important numbers into mine.
Which is why I know it’s Gia Akatov calling.
Cormac nods, telling me to pick it up.
“Mrs. Akatov,” I say, trying for something respectful.
She gags. “Ew, God. Why did you say it like that? Mrs. Akatov?”
Her disgust is shown via sarcasm, a move that reminds me of Adeline.
“Good lord, I’m not eighty, you know. No, call me Gia, you understand?”
I begin pacing, my uncle’s eyes hot on my back. I’m unable to stay still.
“I understand,” I say.
“Good. How are you? Are you okay?”
“I’m doing well. Is Adeline all right?”
“Have you not talked to her?” she tests.
“It’s typically worrisome when the mother of your girlfriend calls.”
She hums under her breath. “Are you used to getting bad news when people call?”
“Most of the time, yes,” I admit. Workwise, it hasn’t been so bad lately. But when it’s Nora, Ian, or my da? There’s no telling what type of problem I’ll encounter.
Gia makes another indistinct noise. “I hope I never call you with bad news. No, I wanted to check in on you. I haven’t heard from you.”
Up until three days ago, we’d never talked. Not once. The two occasions we’d had a chance to, she’d turn her nose up.
Adeline’s food poisoning has changed things. I thought my flat would have alarmed Gia. It’s too small and too cheap, too. . . Ciaran O’Connell. But Gia is friendly as she speaks.
It sounds like she’s moving around, wherever she is. Staying busy as she talks, another thing that reminds me of Adeline. Unless she’s reading or studying, she’s got to move around as she chats.
“Come over for dinner on Saturday so we can see you.”
My brows hit my hairline.
“I know Adeline would love to see you.”
Adeline who barely texts me these days? A burning knot forms in my stomach at the chance of seeing my girl in person. Of touching and holding her. Saturday can’t come soon enough.
“I would like that,” I reply. “Thank you. Can I bring anything?”
Gia tsks. “Of course not. Just bring yourself. I could send a car?”
“No, it’s fine.” They live outside the city, but I can make my own way there. We are still from different syndicates, after all.
Gia riddles off a pleasant goodbye. When I end the call, the first thing I see when I look up is the impressed smirk on Uncle Cormac’s face.
“Well done.” He congratulates me like I’ve done something worthwhile. “An invitation to Boris Akatov’s family home.”
The houses in the neighborhood are all million-dollar monstrosities, and the Akatov’s doesn’t disappoint.
There’s a charm to it, though. Pots of flowers on the front porch along with fall decorations. It’s mid-afternoon because Gia texted me yesterday to say I was welcome to arrive early. She sounded sure that Adeline would want to see me.
It’s Gia at the door who greets me. “You didn’t have to do that,” she says when I hand her a bottle of wine. I doubt it’s nicer than anything she’s got down in her cellar, but I wasn’t going to arrive empty handed.
“She’s upstairs.” Gia points. “Let me know if you need anything.”
I thank her and then carefully climb the stairs. There is a worn in aspect to the home. A library book on a table in the hallway. A frame along the stairwell that’s slightly crooked as if people keep bumping into it. The coloring is warm, the scent of clovers soft.
I don’t want to touch anything. To accidentally disturb something. Maybe it was the way Uncle Cormac had looked at me after I got off the phone. I’m not supposed to be here. I’m surprised Gia is letting me walk around without an escort.
Once I’m upstairs, there’s a long stretch of hall. More family photos line the walls. There’s a guest bathroom and a door to a bedroom.
A door swings open. Adeline’s sister, Lennie, startles in the doorway.
I’m reminded of finding her in the courtyard, the way we’d both jumped when we spotted one another.
“Sorry,” I say automatically, preparing to have upset an Akatov.
Her eyes remain wide, but she points down the hall. “It’s that one.”
Her door shuts softly, the mouse not making any noise. When I peek into the half-cracked door she indicated, I spot Adeline on her bed, surrounded by pillows. She’s got her laptop open, and she sings to herself, her head bobbing.
I bite back a smile, relief and happiness coursing through my chest at the sight of her. I push the door open, and she glances up before doing a double take.
She scrambles out of the bed. “What are you doing here?”
Her fingers curl into my shirt, pulling me all the way into her room. I gently untangle her grip, not wanting my button-down ruined before dinner.
Adeline sticks her head out the door, checking the hallway. “What? How did you—oh, my God, did the Guards not?”
My hand cups her cheek, pulling her to me. Her lips crash into mine, her body sagging into me.
“No!” She jumps back, glancing out the hallway.
I can’t stop my laugh. “I’m a man capable of many things, but I didn’t break in here.”
Confusion creases her face. “What?”
“Your mam invited me.” I pull her back to me, wrapping her in a hug. She slides her arms around me, and I lean into the feeling of her body against mine.
“Really?” she asks against my chest. “Wait, she called you?”
“Yes, now explain how this important trait wasn’t passed down to you?”
“Uh. . .” Adeline snuggles into me, and I instinctively hold her tighter. “I mean, it’s not like I’ve been posting on social media either.”
“You are not lumping me in with your millions of followers.”
She tiptoes away from me. She’s wearing plaid pajama pants, and there’s a sliver of skin where her black tank top rises. Her dark hair is braided, and she pushes a strand back, staring up at me shyly.
“I didn’t really know what to say. . .”
“People get sick,” I tell her. “Even perfectionists with shopping addictions.”
She pouts, not satisfied with the truth.
“I can’t believe I’m in this position, but please, for the love of God, Adeline Marie, send a man more than a few memes next time.”
“They say distance makes the heart grow fonder.” She laughs at whatever face I make and reaches for my hand. “So you and my mom are besties now? Have you seen my dad?”
I shake my head.
“I think he’s gone out, but he’ll be back for dinner. Come on.” She pulls me toward her bed.
Her bedroom is bigger and airier than my entire flat. The carpet is thick, and there’s a giant bookcase filled with fantasy books. There’s a TV and an en suite bathroom, along with a dozen other things that point to a life of affluence.
“Take off your shoes,” she demands, diving back into her bed.
A couple hours later, Adeline’s older sister shoves the door open. “Why’s it so dark in here?”
She flicks the lights on, finding Adeline and me in bed lying on our stomachs, her laptop open as she works on school.
“Hey,” Adeline complains, typing.
She was worried about a quiz she’d missed, but it turns out she’d been one of many NYU students served bad chicken. The past few hours I’ve watched her work on her homework, providing absolutely no help what so ever.
“Turn that light off,” Adeline orders.
“It was really dark,” Nat replies, hands on her hips, her eyes narrowed.
Unfortunately for her, there’s nothing to concern herself with. I might be on Adeline’s bed, but I’m fully clothed, and she has yet to break away from her schoolwork. And trust me, I’ve tried to lure her into a few more kisses.
“Turn it off and go away,” Adeline says, working on her quiz.
There’s one last sweeping glare from Nat, but she does turn away.
“Shut the door!” Adeline yells.
Nat neither turns off the lights nor shuts the door. “Mom says dinner is in thirty minutes.”