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My heart races as I replay our conversation in my head, reliving every tense moment, every stolen glance that sent shivers down my spine. I know I shouldn’t want to be near him, but I can’t help it. It’s like an irresistible force pulling me towards the danger.
Lost in thought, I barely register the knock at the door. My breath catches in my throat as my mind immediately jumps to the possibility that it’s Ciarán, come back to me. The sound is sharp and loud, echoing through the silent house like an ominous drumbeat.
Moving closer to the door, my pulse quickening with each step. Reaching for the door handle, its cool metal sending shivers down my fingertips, I slowly open it, knowing I have to, but unsure what to say.
“Ciarán.” My heart leaps into my throat as I see him standing back slightly, leaning on the doorframe with one hand, his head turned to the side.
He faces me, eyes narrowed as he rakes his gaze over me in what can only be calledcreepy. My heart leaps into my chest as he smiles.
It’s sinister, cold, deadly.
Dropping my gaze, I notice the spider tattoo on his neck, something Ciarán doesn’t have, and confusion washes over me.
“Who are you?” I ask, my voice trembling with uncertainty.
The familiar stranger smirks, his eyes glinting with a dangerous edge that sends shivers down my spine. His dark hair is slicked back, and his jawline is just as sharp and chiseled as Ciarán’s. He has the same piercing blue eyes, but there’s an unmistakable coldness in them that makes me shudder.
“Name’s Cathal,” he says, leaning against the doorframe. “One of Ciarán’s triplet brothers. Didn’t he ever mention me?”
“Triplets?” I murmur, trying to wrap my head around the fact that there are three of them and that two are equally as dangerous as each other. “No, he never mentioned you.” I’m not sure how to play this. This Cathal seems to think that Ciarán and I are close. Is that good or bad?
“Figures,” Cathal scoffs, bitterness lacing his words. “We’re not exactly on good terms. But that’s not why I’m here. I need your help, Tinks.”
“Tinks?” How did he know to call me that? How did he find me? “Help how?” My mind races, trying to process this new information while still grappling with the fact that I’m standing face-to-face with one of Ciarán’s estranged triplets. “What can I possibly do?”
“You’re important to him,” Cathal replies, his tone dark and serious. “I’ve been watching him, and I’ve seen how he reacts to you. You might be the only one who can get through to him, and I need to talk to him.”
“About what?” I ask, my curiosity piqued despite the fear twisting inside me.
“Family business,” he says cryptically, his expression hardening. “Things you wouldn’t understand.”
“Look, Cathal,” I say, my voice shaky but determined. “I don’t know anything about your family or what’s going on. I can’t help you.”
“You’re wrong, Tinks,” he insists, his eyes locked onto mine with an intensity that sends a chill down my spine. “And call me Thal. Cathal is my Sunday name. You’re more involved than you realize. And whether you like it or not, you’re going to help me get through to Ciarán.”
As fear and confusion battle within me, I try to make sense of this encounter with the dangerous stranger who shares the face of the man I’m lethally drawn to. What does me want from me? And how far will he go to get it?
His eyes narrow further as if observing me from a distance. “Like I said, I’ve been following Ciarán,” he says, his gaze unwavering. “He’s cautious, always looking over his shoulder, as he should in his line of work. But last night, he let his guard down. He spent the night here, didn’t he?”
I hesitate for a moment, unsure whether I should confirm or deny this information. But something in Cathal’s expression tells me he already knows the truth. “Yes,” I whisper.
“That means you’re important to him. A chink in the armor. He would never stay over at a woman’s house otherwise. Trust me, I know my brother.”
As his words sink in, I feel both flattered and terrified. Ciarán’s feelings for me might be scarilyreal, but I have the ominous feeling they have just put me in danger.
“Even if that’s true,” I say, my voice shaky, “it doesn’t mean I can fix whatever is going on between you and your brothers. This is bigger than me.”
“Maybe so,” Cathal admits, his gaze darkening. “But you’re still a part of it now, whether you like it or not. And I need your help to get to him.”
Get to him. That sounds bad.
Even through all this, the thought of Ciarán with another woman stirs an irrational jealousy in me. I clench my fists, fighting the urge to demand answers about his past relationships. But that would be crazy; we’re not even together. Instead, I focus on the intensity in Cathal’s eyes, so similar to Ciarán’s.
My fingers curl tightly around the door handle, the cold metal grounding me and almost yelling at me to slam the door in Cathal’s face.
“I’m not getting involved in any of your family issues. Please, just leave.”
I try to close the door in his face, but he’s quicker.
