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I’m not sure if he’s joking or warning me. “My father isn’t seeking reelection. I’m running for his council seat unopposed. All those expansions your brother wants to make on the waterfront will need votes. My votes. I don’t need money like the other greedy council members.” I fold my arms. “Has your brother asked you to bring him any other marriage alliance deals?”
“No,” he answers quickly, which doesn’t give me the assurance I want.
Perhaps Kieran gave up on wanting to secure a wife. He has four brothers and one sister to marry off to make alliances. He leaves Darragh and Cormac alone, although I hear whispers there are issues with Cormac.
“I’m not here to make demands or ultimatums, Riordan.” I lean in. “Let me save face with this one. I know you and Lachlan held him back from skinning my ass when Siobhan took off. Just give me this last chance. And no, Darcy’s not a flight risk. I’ve told her all about Kieran. How much he loved Norah.”
“My brother’s a different man, Ewan,” Riordan says with caution in his voice.
“Losing the woman you love should change a man.” I realize how dark my own life has been. My heart pounds, and before I start sweating or stammering, I mutter, “Five minutes.”
“Go on.” Riordan steps aside.
“Are you coming?” I ask him. “Your brother may want your council on this.”
“Eoghan is with him. And Lachlan,” he says with a smile.
If I was happy to see Eoghan, the family lawyer who is as practical as they come, loose-cannon Lachlan negates all that.
Before going inside, I double back to Griffin. “Give me a minute with Darcy.” When my brother bows his head and ambles down the driveway, probably to grab a smoke with Calder, I pull Darcy to my side and drink in her scent one last time. She may very well leave here an engaged woman.
“Last chance,” I whisper to her, even though I’ll look like the biggest eejit eating my words and hightailing it out of here with her.
Her eyes are cold, the spark gone. “Aye,” she says hoarsely. “You said I have a choice. I have to meet the man first, don’t I?”
“Right.” I want to kiss her so badly, but I back up, not meeting her eyes. I can’t. I just…can’t. “Wait here by the car. You’re safe.”
I step through the kitchen and nod to Patricia, Kieran’s house manager, who sits at a desk in the corner, going through the mail.
Every step down the hallway toward Kieran’s office feels like walking over hot coals, and my brain is screaming at me to turn back. I don’t know what’s right or wrong anymore. There’s a war coming, and I have to protect my family.
I knock, and Kieran’s thick brogue says, “Aye, come in.”
He’s sitting behind a monstrosity of a desk in a dark-paneled office. The row of three floor-to-ceiling windows along the wall behind him lights the room, but the velvet drapes are often pulled closed when things get intense. Eejits from other families are always sending some jack-off to try to take pictures and see what Kieran is up to.
The office smells of cigar smoke, and, in a way, it settles my stomach. I’m in a familiar place. A safe space. I sat in one of those chairs across the desk, expecting a crack across the jaw from Lachlan when Sabine ran off. Nothing happened to me. If I got through that, I can get through anything with Kieran.
Eoghan, then Lachlan, seated in front of the desk, merely turn their heads, but Kieran stands, and to my surprise, hugs me. “I hear you were abroad?”
Probably from a text Riordan just sent.
“I was. Two weeks. Visiting family.” After the hug, I shake his hand and do the same for Eoghan, then Lachlan, who always wears a sinister smile. Probably because it makes the scar on his cheek look more menacing.
“What can I do for you?” Kieran sits back down. He’s wearing a pair of charcoal trousers and a white dress shirt with a blue tie. His sleeves are rolled up, and I see he’s got some new ink on his forearms. It’s only eleven a.m., but fuck, I need a shot of Jameson as this gets more real.
I go to take a seat in the chair across from his desk, but I stop. I’m frozen.
Lachlan rises from his chair and puts a hand in his suit jacket. “Ewan?” His cigarette-hoarse voice reaches me. “You okay?”
“Yes.”
“Lach, what the fuck?” Kieran says to his brother. “Ewan’s my best friend. We’re all on edge over this Stasia disappearance, but we have to trust each other. That’s the quickest way we fall apart.” He reminds me the problem that can cause the Russians to start tearing Astoria apart hasn’t gone away, even though I’ve been off the grid, fucking Kieran’s future bride.
“The guy looks wrecked,” Lach says.
“I’m still adjusting to the time difference,” I lie. “Stomach’s not been right.”
It’s been in fucking knots for a week. It’s not just me. Darcy’s been throwing up the last two days, as well.
