Chapter 17
Zora
The image of Roisin refuses to leave me. Even now, as I stand alone in front of the vanity mirror days later, her voice continues to echo in the back of my mind.
I can still see her sitting on the edge of that bed with tears in her eyes, admitting that nobody had ever believed her. The more I think about it, the harder it becomes to look at the Keegans the same way.
Before Ireland, people like Fergus Keegan existed as names in files and photographs. They were targets. Powerful men who built empires through fear, violence, and influence. Everything was simple when viewed from a distance.
Nothing feels simple anymore. Not after Roisin. Not after seeing the fear in her eyes when Conall touched her. Not after watching an entire room applaud while her future was traded away like a business contract.
A slow breath leaves my lungs. Tonight changes everything. Or it changes nothing. There is no middle ground left. The realization settles heavily in my chest as I stare at my reflection in the mirror.
Outside the bedroom, the estate is already alive with activity. The muffled sound of music drifts faintly through the walls while distant voices echo throughout the manor. Guests have been arriving for hours.
Every powerful person connected to the Keegan empire seems to have gathered beneath this roof tonight. Which is exactly why Nico and I chose this evening.
While everyone else is celebrating Darragh's succession, we will be searching Fergus's room.
The thought should make me nervous. Instead, it sharpens my focus. My eyes drift over my reflection once more.
The emerald gown drapes elegantly over my body, its intricate beadwork shimmering beneath the warm light. Matching emeralds adorn my throat and ears, while my hair is pinned into a sophisticated updo, completing the illusion of a woman who is graceful, refined, and completely harmless.
The illusion is ruined somewhat by the pistol strapped securely against my inner thigh beneath layers of fabric. Nico handed it to me this morning.
I still have no idea how he managed to smuggle a gun here. When I asked, he looked up from his coffee and smirked.
"Baby, if I told you that, I'd have to start charging for lessons."
"Don't call me baby."
"Noted, Elf."
"Nico."
"The important thing is that you have the gun."
The bastard never answered the question.
My gaze drifts back to my reflection in the mirror.
To anyone looking at me tonight, I am nothing more than an elegant fiancée preparing for a celebration.
No one would suspect that beneath the silk and carefully crafted smiles, I am preparing to break into Fergus Keegan's private quarters before the night is over.
My fingers tighten slightly around the edge of the vanity. Nothing can go wrong tonight. The thought repeats itself over and over inside my head. Nothing can go wrong. Because if it does, Nico and I won't simply fail. We won't leave this estate alive.
A soft knock interrupts my thoughts. I meet my own gaze in the mirror for one final second before speaking. "Come in."
The door opens behind me. I don't need to turn around to know who it is.
A moment later, Nico's reflection appears in the mirror. For a second, neither of us says anything. His gaze slowly travels over my appearance. Not hurriedly. Not casually. Slowly enough that heat immediately creeps into my cheeks.
A familiar smirk appears on his face. "Well."
I close my eyes. "Don't."
"You look stunning."
I let out a groan.
His smile only grows. "I'm serious."
I finally turn around to face him. The sight waiting for me does absolutely nothing to help my composure. The black tuxedo fits him perfectly. Which is unfortunate. Very unfortunate. Because he knows it.
And judging by the look on his face, he knows that I know it too.
"You're staring. Again"
My eyes immediately snap back to his face. "I am not."
The smirk widens. "Right."
"Don't start again."
"I haven't even said anything yet."
"You never need to."
A low chuckle escapes him as he takes a few steps further into the room.
The teasing familiarity of it does little to ease the tension coiled tightly inside my chest. If anything, it only reminds me of what waits for us downstairs.
The mission. The risk. The possibility that everything could go horribly wrong.
Perhaps Nico notices the shift in my expression because some of the amusement leaves his face.
His smile gradually fades. "You've been thinking too much."
I let out a quiet breath.
"We're about to break into Fergus’s private room in the middle of a celebration filled with dangerous people. I think a certain amount of thinking is justified."
"Fair."
My gaze drifts back toward the mirror. "I just keep feeling like we're missing something."
"What?"
"I don't know." And that is the problem. I know the plan. I know the timing. I know the route we're taking. Yet the feeling refuses to go away.
Nico studies me for a moment before speaking again. "This is about Roisin."
It isn't a question.
I don't bother denying it. "Partly."
His expression softens slightly. "There's nothing we can do for her tonight."
The answer arrives immediately. "I know." And I do. That doesn't mean I have to like it.
For a few seconds neither of us says anything. Then Nico adjusts the cuff of his jacket and straightens.
"One problem at a time, baby."
I immediately glare at him. "I told you not to call me baby."
The corner of his mouth twitches. "One problem at a time, Elf."
I narrow my eyes. "No."
His amusement grows. "Vivienne, then."
"Better."
Nico shakes his head like I'm the difficult one before offering me his arm. "We get the information. We don't get caught. We leave Ireland alive." His gaze settles on me. "Anything else?"
I consider it for a moment. "Preferably without being shot."
A low laugh escapes him. "See?" Nico says. "Now that's the kind of optimism I like."
The bastard looks entirely too pleased with himself. Despite myself, I laugh. The sound eases some of the tension sitting in my chest.
Nico's gaze lingers on me for a second before he nods toward the door. Then, just as we're about to leave, his expression shifts ever so slightly, becoming more focused.
"You have your earpiece?"
I instinctively reach up, brushing a loose strand of hair away from my ear. The tiny communication device remains hidden beneath my carefully styled hair.
"I do."
"Good."
The single word carries more weight than it should. Because once we leave this room, the night truly begins.
Nico studies me for another moment, as if making one final assessment, before offering me his arm. "Ready?"
No. Not even remotely. But standing here isn't going to change anything.
I slide my hand through his arm. "Let's go." And together, we leave the bedroom.
The transformation of the estate becomes impossible to ignore the moment we step into the corridor.
Every hallway glows beneath the warm light of hundreds of candles.
Fresh flowers line the walls and staircases, their fragrance lingering in the air alongside the distant sound of music.
Guests move through the manor in elegant gowns and tailored suits, their conversations blending together into a constant murmur of wealth, influence, and carefully hidden agendas.
To anyone else, it probably looks beautiful. To me, it looks dangerous. There are too many people. Too many variables. Too many things capable of going wrong.
As we descend the grand staircase, I immediately begin noticing details that most guests would never pay attention to.
Security personnel are positioned throughout the estate, some openly visible, others attempting to blend into the crowd.
Fergus's trusted men watch from balconies overlooking the ballroom, their eyes constantly scanning the gathering below.
Nico notices them too. "Left balcony." He murmurs quietly.
"I see them."
"Three guards."
"Four."
His eyes flick briefly toward me. "Good."
To everyone around us, it looks like idle conversation between an engaged couple. In reality, we're cataloging threats.
By the time we reach the bottom of the staircase, the ballroom is already overflowing with guests.
Crystal chandeliers hang from the ceiling, casting golden light across the polished floor.
A live orchestra plays near the far wall while servers move gracefully through the crowd carrying champagne and expensive whiskey.
And somewhere inside all of this… Behind the music, the laughter, the performance is the reason we came here.
Nico's hand briefly settles against the small of my back as he guides me forward.
"Smile, Elf."
I glance at him. "You smile."
"I am smiling."
"That's your normal face."
His expression turns offended. "I'll have you know women find this face very charming."
"Then those women need better judgment."
He laughs. The sound is quiet. Genuine. And for a brief moment, despite the pressure hanging over us, despite the danger waiting later tonight, despite the fact that my pulse is still racing beneath layers of silk, I find myself smiling too. Again.
Which is unfortunate. Very unfortunate. Because Nico notices that too. His smirk deepens ever so slightly, but for once he has the good sense not to comment on it.
Instead, he guides me deeper into the ballroom as we weave through clusters of guests. Around us, conversations overlap into a constant hum of politics, money, and influence. Crystal glasses clink together. Laughter rises and falls.
Somewhere across the room, Darragh is already entertaining a group of foreign investors while Fergus watches the crowd with the careful attention of a man who trusts absolutely no one.
I force myself to relax. Or at least look relaxed. Because tonight isn't about standing out. It's about blending in. Every smile. Every conversation. Every dance. Every glass of champagne. All of it is part of the act.
As we move through the crowd, several guests stop Nico to greet him.
"Lucien. Good to see you. Congratulations on the engagement."
"Thank you."