Ciaran
“Do you like it?” Seamus asks me as we stand at the railing of a rooftop bar.
We landed in Las Vegas yesterday. Nothing like ending the year by drowning your sorrows in gambling and liquor. Likewise, there’s no better party to start off the new year.
Dermot and Byron have been told on numerous occasions to be on their best behavior. I’ve got a sinking suspicion they’re already at the strip club. When we eventually go home to Dublin, I don’t doubt this will be their favorite story—their time in Las Vegas.
Cormac went to dinner with some associates. He didn’t extend an invitation, but I don’t feel left out. I haven’t spent any downtime with my favorite cousin in a while.
“It’s bright,” I tell him, my gaze scanning the Strip.
I catalogue the details, comparing them to the Hollywood movies I’ve seen of the place.
We’re staying at Knight. The place is like nothing I’ve ever seen before. I don’t think I’d have ever been able to imagine the resort. It’s got multiple towers and casinos whirling at all times. Restaurants, shopping, and entertainment.
It’s run by the Knight family. Two sets of cousins, all four raised as brothers.
Icarus Knight shook my hand earlier and asked if I wanted to see a show at their venue. Pop music isn’t my thing, but I am interested in the fights they put on. But I told him I wouldn’t have time.
The blond-haired Icarus had sat back on his heels, snaking his hands in his pockets, his eyebrows lifting. “Oh, work trip?” he’d mused with a tiny smile as he glanced over my shoulder. Dermot and Byron were already chatting up a redhead. We hadn’t even made it out of the lobby.
That’s how I knew we were pulling off something great. Icarus Knight showing up in the lobby to greet us in his palace.
I’d caught Cormac’s eye, and I knew he was thinking the same thing. Never again would we think of ourselves as small-timers from Dublin.
“It’s colder than I thought it’d be,” Seamus says, his eyes squinting in the wind. We’re on one of the rooftop bars, where it’s quieter than the nightclub we passed by.
“Would you move here?” Seamus asks, his gaze still on the horizon.
“To the desert?”
We flew into a private airfield, but the differences in landscape were immediate. We’re a long way from the Emerald Isle, and New York City is a concrete jungle. Nevada is rocky terrain with sparse vegetation.
“I wonder what it’s really like to live here?” A thoughtful expression has morphed his usual smile into something serious. “You know, not just come for a visit.”
“They probably say the same thing about Dublin,” I point out, having done my fair share of dodging groups of tourists.
“Do you like New York?” Seamus asks. He’s got a Guinness in his hand but hardly drinks.
“Yeah.” There’s a reason people are intoxicated by the place. “You?”
“Yes and no,” he admits. “I think it might be different if we made Cask into our local.”
My hands tighten around my beer. “Really?”
Cask is unofficially the hive of the Irish Mafia. To the uninitiated, it’s a quaint Irish pub in Hell’s Kitchen. I know Da spends most of his time there. In fact, I think he might have a flat above it.
I’m surprised by this admission. Seamus has never found himself out of place. He could go into any pub and be all right.
“Why?” I ask, trying to sound casual.
He smiles slightly, like he understands my confusion. Or he’s known me so long he knows it’s dangerous to mention anything that can relate back to my father. “That’s who we should be wining and dining, right? The Irish.”
“We are Irish.”
“Walsh is the head of the Irish Mafia in New York City, Ciaran.”
“He’ll try to fold us in.”
“Yeah, that’s why I leave the business to you.” Seamus shrugs, but his eyes remain thoughtful. “Ciaran. . . Do you love Adeline Akatov?”
I tighten my grip on the beer in my hand. We’re thirty flights up; I can’t go dropping it over the railing.
“What the fuck are you on about?”
The wind tugs at his reddish-brown locks. “You spent Christmas with her family.”
I rest my elbows on the railing, forcing myself into a relaxed stance. “You mad I missed opening presents under the tree with you?”
Seamus smiles, but something about it seems different. “You’re almost at the six-month mark.”
I count quickly in my head. “Five.”
Seamus smirks again. “You don’t date women that long.”
A scowl overtakes my face. “I’ve had relationships before, Shay.”
I don’t know what the bastard is on about.
“Never longer than six months,” Seamus contends. “You’re sweet on her.”
I lean into the railing. “I’m dating her, aren’t I?”
As far as Seamus thinks, I’ve swept Adeline off her feet. Or maybe he assumes the Bratva princess is slumming it with me. Either way, he has no idea a dead body was involved.
“You love her.”
I stare at Seamus like he’s got two heads. His words are a statement. Like he thinks there’s no point in me answering a question.
“It’s been five months.”
Seamus nods, the movement slow. Sarcastic. Annoying bastard.
“What about Dublin?” he asks.
“What about it?” It’s my home.
But Seamus has a questioning look on his face. “Are you going to go home?”
The lights along the Strip suddenly become fascinating.
“You know this isn’t forever,” Seamus presses. “Sure, we aren’t done yet. But we aren’t planning on spending another Christmas here, you know that—”
“Of course, I fucking know that.” I rock against the railing. I’m becoming less and less interested in the beer in my hand. At the ripe age of twenty-two, I’ve turned into an old man.
My cousins were excited to spend New Year’s in Vegas. Who wouldn’t?
The beer and boxing should be enticing enough. Or maybe I could add to the artwork along my shoulders.
The truth is, I could be doing anything I want because Knight offers everything to its guests.
I never considered myself a homebody. I’m not wild by Dermot's or Byron’s standards. It’s possible Seamus is right about Cask’s. There’s nothing like the pull of a pint and the warm music in an Irish pub.
Except, I know any pub—any place—pales in comparison to where I really want to be.
I miss Adeline.
I had hoped she’d changed her mind. That she’d travel with us. Now, I see that it’s a good thing she hadn’t. There’s no way my cousins would let me live it down, bringing a woman with me on a business trip.
“You never acted this way with Rosa,” Seamus says.
I haven’t thought about Rosa in months. Not since Adeline started warming my bed.
“You hated Rosa.” My voice struggles against the wind.
“I hated how you acted around her.”
This catches my attention.
“You weren’t yourself around her,” he says. “You let her get to you.”
I hang my head over the railing. I’d like to dispute this, but I need time to think. To reanalyze my interactions with her. I’d certainly hated her in the end, when she’d decided I wasn’t good enough for her.
“I like Adeline.”
My head snaps up, and Seamus shakes his head, smirking. “Not like that, you daft fool. I mean, I like the pair of you together, is all.”
“What the fuck are you on about?” It’s the same question I asked earlier.
He shrugs. “You hate it here, don’t you?”
I frown.
He laughs, looking out at the mountains. “You’re standing at a rooftop bar at Knight, a Guinness in your hand, and you look bloody miserable.”
“Yeah, but only because you’re being a bloody git.”
“Maybe, but you’re the bloody git who’s standing here all alone on New Year’s Eve.” Seamus continues to take in the mountains, but I feel his next words. “You miss her.”