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“Yeah, all good. We had some minor issues with the shipping company a few weeks back. There was some product missing. But I dealt with the issue personally, and he won't be a problem in the future.”
My shoulders shuffle at Lorcan’s unfazed response, earning me a beady look from my father. “What?” I poke the bear. “We all know that problem is now decomposing at the bottom of a septic tank, most likely in a few pieces.”
“Rohan.”
“What? Come on, Daddy. We know what goes on here. No point calling a spade a shovel, when it is, in fact, a spade.”
The rest of the meeting goes much the same with my father working his way along the line of the wealthy business associates who pose as a front for the biggest crime organisation on the Isle, while I jab at him with sarcastic remarks and a blunt attitude.
Welcome to the Killybegs syndicate, where we build hopes and dreams at the price of your integrity.
Finally, once he’s covered all the shady shit, my father congratulates Aodhán and me for completing our first trial. “Celebrations will begin this Saturday at Kill Castle at 8 PM sharp. As usual, it is a black-tie event, so please, leave those rags” — he points towards me and my current attire — “at home.”
Rolling my eyes, I ignore his underhanded insult — only my father would think my short-sleeved, black Gucci button shirt, and my favourite black ripped AIRMI jeans are rags, even though my attire, as he so eloquently phrased it, cost more than most people’s monthly mortgage payment — and rise to leave.
“Wait.” He holds up his hand, stopping me mid-suspension. “We’re not done here. We still have to address what we are doing about Ms Ryan’s arrival.”
My teeth clench at the mention of Saoirse’s name, but I slowly ease myself back into the chair, curiosity taking over my limbs. Honestly, I knew he’d bring her up sooner rather than later, but I thought he’d wait a while so he could give himself enough time to suss her out first.
Gabriel King doesn’t make rash decisions; he’s asit it out and then pounce when the time is rightkind of guy. The fact he is so hellbent on removing Saoirse from the equation doesn’t sit well with me. I’m missing something here, but what?
My eyes skirt across the table, scanning from end to end until finally, my eyes connect with Saoirse’s father. To anyone else at the table, he seems unfazed by my father’s words, but I can tell by the tight set of his shoulders and the slight crinkle surrounding his eyes that’s not the case. Nobody knows about his secret daughter, except for yours truly, and it will stay that way for as long as possible. He’s Killybegs’ very own trojan horse. The only difference is he’s been hiding his vendetta behind the castle walls a lot longer than I have, for over eighteen years, in fact.
“Do we know how much she knows?” Lorcan asks, the tip of his tongue probing the corner of his mouth.
“Not very much,” Liam chimes in before Beibhinn adds, “Only what we’ve told her. She knows she’s part of Killybegs’ heritage, but I don’t think she understands what that means, not fully.”
“Has she mentioned her mother?” Darren, a syndicate knight, chimes in, cranking his neck as he peers down the length of the table towards Oliver Devereux.
Oliver slips his hand over his hair. “No. As far as I can tell, she doesn’t know where Éanna is. Last time she saw her was when Lorcan and Rohan arrived at the house. She thinks they took her or killed her.”
“So, Éanna hasn’t reached out to her?” Lorcan sits forward, resting his elbow on the table while cupping his hand over his mouth.
“I don’t think so,” Beibhinn offers. “She hasn’t mentioned her mam much.”
“Are our guys still looking?” My dad twists in his chair and directs his gaze towards Lorcan.
“They are. But she hasn’t shown up anywhere yet. No activity on her bank cards, and her phone is off.”
“Okay, keep looking and inform me if she reappears. She will not leave Saoirse here for long. It’s not her style. She’s planning something, I can guarantee you that.”
Kevin nods in agreement. “This is why we need to get Saoirse initiated ASAP.”
“Thanks to Beibhinn, she knows about the trials. But, is she aware she has to take them?” Oliver questions his daughter with a stern, clipped tone.
“No.” Beibhinn’s eyes briefly flick to the floor and back. She’s lying, but why? “She’s not ready. She’s barely been here a week. Liam has only begun training her.”
Liam nods his head in agreement. “She needs a few sessions, at the least. Otherwise, she’ll fail the trial.”
I clench my fists beneath the table. If she fails the trial, they’ll kill her. But maybe that’s what my father wants. Get her out of his hair once and for all. I hate that Liam had his hands all over her, but I also know she needs all the help she can get. She’s out of her fucking depth. I look towards Aodhán and send him a silent plea to say something. Thankfully, he picks up on it. “Maybe we should wait a while, let her settle in before throwing her off the deep end without a life jacket.”
My father contemplates it for a second, then asks, “When does she turn eighteen?”
“May 5th.” Shit! The date flies from my lips without thinking, earning me more than a few curious glances from everyone at the table, including a pissed off Hannah. Fuck her. The only reason I showed her any interest yesterday was because of the gorgeous brunette with the sultry smile.
Doing my best to flog that thought from my head, I lean back in my seat and place my hands at the back of my head. “Why so surprised? You asked me to monitor the girl, and I did my homework.”
My father’s brow narrows as he scans my body language for the lie I am telling, but I remain stoic, except for the side smile curled on my smug lips.Fuck you, you hairy bollox. You’re getting nothing from me.
