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“Why you’re going into the office on a Saturday night at eleven PM?”
Frowning, I glanced around the room. “Are you monitoring me?”
“Why does that come as a shock?”
“Swear to fuck you’re worse than Big Brother.”
Conor scoffed. “Little Brother is far more powerful.”
“Only in this instance,” I argued. “And I’ll tell Aidan and Brennan you said that next time I talk with them both.”
“Well, there’s me shaking in my fucking Yeezys.” Conor grunted, “You’re my older brother too, Finn.”
Tension crawled up the back of my spine and settled at the base of my neck—a headache was definitely brewing. “Heard about that, did you?”
“I hear all and I see all.”
“You know how lonely that sounds?” I questioned, settling my ass at the edge of my desk and perching on it.
“You know how lonely that feels?”
I reached up and rubbed my chin. “You okay?”
“I’m not the one who needs to answer that.”
“Look like a piece of shit, do I?” I flipped the room the bird and waggled my hand around to make sure he could see it in whichever camera he used to monitor me.
“You look rough,” he agreed.
“Bad couple of days.”
“Aoife tossed you out?”
“No. I get the feeling this is the calm before the storm.”
“Think she’s too scared to toss you out?”
My throat clutched at the thought. “She isn’t scared of me.”
“Isn’t she?” I heard the shrug in Conor’s voice. “She knows what happens in this world, doesn’t she?”
“Meaning?”
“‘Five Points until you die.’”
“She’s different.”
“Is she?”
“What’s with all the fucking questions, Conor? Aoife ain’t—” I massaged my temple where the headache was coming on thick and fast. “She…”
“She, what?”
I thought about what I’d told her—that I couldn’t let her divorce me. That I wouldn’t allow that to happen.
“I told her I’d leave.”
Conor hummed. “Why didn’t you? Or is this you leaving?”
