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She was a vision of beauty in a stunning dress and heels, her hair in a tangled bun on top of her head. And the look on her face was one of… seduction.
This was getting out of hand.
What the fuck was going on?
CHAPTER 13
Rylee
Pompous men.
How many had I known in my life?
Well, the truth was that in Cork, the pompous men were usually rogues, not accomplished businessmen. They’d prefer to pick a barroom fight, acting all tough and powerful, rather than wield a Montblanc pen inside a courtroom or conference room.
However, there’d been a few in my life, which is why I could smell them from a mile away. Those who didn’t think their shit stank when it did to high heaven. That’s what I had a feeling I was getting ready to walk into.
I’d tried to figure out what categories to put the three musketeers in, which is what I’d taken to calling the gorgeous dudes with perfect chiseled bodies and killer smiles, the ones that had attitudes for days.
And miles.
The truth was that they were in categories of their own.
Powerful—yes.
Dangerous—without a doubt.
Sexy—as all get out.
Arrogant?
Oh, you bet.
But I didn’t see them as anything but what you see was what you got.
However, Madden Byrne was undoubtedly in a class all his own. Yeah, I’d checked him out after discovering who and what he was. My papa told me never to head into a meeting without learning everything you could about your opponent. Maybe my dad wouldn’t like I’d circumvented him, but I had to know what I was dealing with before setting foot on our rig with the three… unwanted men. Why couldn’t I get Foxx and his hunky buddies off my mind? I was acting like a lovesick schoolgirl or worse. I knew better. You never mixed business with pleasure.
Madden was a very bad man who believed he controlled the entire country. I couldn’t be more shocked my father was even considering selling to the man, unless Madden had threatened him. But why wouldn’t Daddy tell me? Because he knew I’d attack the man. I’d searched for a smoking gun that I could use against the Irish thug, finding pretty much nothing but smoke and mirrors.
From what I could tell, he and his family rode high above law enforcement, not one organization daring to challenge them. And Madden’s private life was very secretive, although rumors abounded. I didn’t like who he was or what he represented one bit. I’d prefer a man to come out in the open and say his piece, even if I didn’t like what they had to say.
Case in point, the three musketeers.
My spidey sense was on overtime. I had the distinct felling Mr. Byrne would continue with the smoke and mirrors, trying to razzle-dazzle me. That’s what had helped land him in the top five hundred wealthiest people. That much I had found inside a glossy internet magazine. It was an instant turnoff.
I would ordinarily prefer sitting in a dentist’s chair for a root canal without Novocain, but this had to be done. Given the condition of my father’s rig and the fading contracts, there was a hidden reason the man wanted to purchase it. Maybe there was more underneath the sea than oil. If I had to contact a geological firm for a survey, I’d do that.
Yeah. With what money?
I rolled my eyes, but I refused to chastise the evil girl my mother had nurtured until her death. I could slap on a smile, and act as if honey naturally dripped from my lush lips with the best of them. That’s why I’d dressed a little provocatively, which wasn’t my usual style. Why not razzle-dazzle the man into telling me all his secrets?
For some reason the name sounded all too familiar, but I wasn’t entirely certain why or from where. All I knew was that he owned several businesses, which included a large real estate development firm with offices not only in Ireland but also in Wales and England as well. Fortunately, he’d made a visit to Cork to see someone, so I’d caught him at a good time.
He’d asked to meet me at a restaurant, which was fine by me. Sadly, I hadn’t realized the one he’d selected was out of my league in just about every way. At least I’d worn a pretty dress. The ugly truth was that other than two festive dresses, shirts and jeans had become my go-to over the last few years. Jeans were a staple on a rig. I was shocked I’d remembered how to walk in high heels.
However, it was as if my almost fancy dress couldn’t hide the fact I was still from the poor side of town. In Cork, you were rich or poor. There wasn’t much of an in-between. The hostess’ disdain made me want to punch her lights out.
Down, girl. Landing your ass behind bars isn’t going to do your daddy any good.
