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“Come on, Aisling,” Anita speaks, strolling to Viktor.
“Nana,” She giggles gleefully when Anita scoops her into her arm.
“You spoil her, Mom. She can’t always get what she wants. She has to learn.”
“Look who’s talking,” Oliver chimes, glaring at Viktor.
“How about we go back to planning this dinner,” I suggest before Viktor can scold Oliver.
ChapterForty
Viktor
The fallout after the all-hands-on-deck Clan meeting was minimal. I’m relieved because we were expecting chaos. The men who stood by my father weren’t happy toward the end of his rule. He was consumed by greed. My father’s reign was coming to an end whether he lived or died.
I’m at Manarch Industries today, working on closing on a house. A house that I hope Ava will love and where we can grow as a family. It will be a late wedding present for her.
Niko’s birthday party is today. Ava opted to have an intimate gathering at the penthouse. Even though the dust has settled and our enemies are practically nonexistent now, she didn’t want to take any risks.
“Mr. Manarch, you have a call on line one,” my PA announces from the door.
“Who is calling?”
She shrugs. “They wouldn’t give a name. He simply said he’s representing the McIntyre affairs.”
I pick up the phone and squash it to my ear. “Who is this?”
“My name is Conor. I’m Cillian McIntyre’s nephew.”
“I have never heard of you, and I don’t have time.”
I’m about to end the call when he speaks again. “I’m not calling to start trouble. If at all possible, I’d like to have a meeting with you. I understand you might be hesitant, so perhaps we could meet at your place of work or any place of your choosing.”
“Hey,” Oliver greets me as he enters my office. I gesture for him to close the door. He eyes me, confused, but does as asked, then I set the cell on speaker.
“Mr. Manarch, are you still there?” Conor asks.
“Let’s meet in thirty minutes at my family restaurant downtown.”
“That works. I appreciate you giving me the time. See you soon.”
Even if the time didn’t work for him, it was the only option I was going to offer.
“Who was that?” Oliver asks, his suspicion high.
“He said his name is Conor. Apparently, he’s Cillian’s nephew.”
Oliver sits across from me. “He’s a nice guy. Different from Cillian.”
“Have you met him?”
He jerks up his chin. “We have run into each other a few times.”
“What do you make of him?”
He considers a response for a couple of seconds before answering. “He’s a businessman. Always kept a distance from Cillian. Why?”
“He wants to meet.”
