From the radio silence since I took over Richard’s division, I assumed she’d forgotten.
Or chose to.
It was dark.We were drunk.
And my brother’s now officially Satan-adjacent.
Not exactly a warm reference for people he’s screwed over.
“Yo.Kilty!”Connor waves a hand in my face.“You blacked out there for a sec.”
“I’m fine,” I mutter, standing up.
Grayson watches me.“You sure?Because for a guy allegedly annoyed by the viral mess, you’re very invested in the prime suspect.”
“It’s complicated.”
Luke cocks his head.“Complicated how?”
I shift to adjust the weights on the machine, unnecessarily precise with their alignment."The MacTavish acquisition has been in the works for seventeen months.I've run every risk assessment.Mapped every contingency.Set every safeguard in place."I recalibrate the pin with meticulous attention."I don't leave things to chance."
The irony that I sound exactly like my father before everything collapsed does occur to me.
Before anyone can respond, my phone buzzes.
FIONA:Landing in 4 hours.Have Alana prep the guest room.Buy decent tea.The dishwater you call Earl Grey is a disgrace to your heritage.
“Bloody hell,” I mutter.
“What now?”Connor asks.“Another trending hashtag?”
“Worse.My grandmother’s flying in from Scotland.”
Connor chokes on his water.Luke drops a dumbbell.Grayson finally puts his phone away.
“The Fiona Abernathy?”Luke looks alarmed, which says a lot for a guy who neutralizes international security threats before breakfast.
“The one who tried to marry me off at Alex’s wedding?”Grayson adds.
“The one who told me my future kids would have ‘tragic bone structure’ unless I married your cousin?”Connor says.
“That’s the one.”
Fiona Abernathy—eighty-eight years of Scottish steel in five feet of tartan—is the family matriarch and chaos incarnate.
Ever since Granddad died, she’s ruled our ancestral estate and every Abernathy with a lace-gloved fist.
She also believes I should’ve been married and producing heirs a decade ago.
“When did this start?”Luke asks.
“She saw the viral posts.Apparently she’s flying in to ‘repair the family reputation.’”
“May God have mercy on your soul,” Connor murmurs.
I toss my phone into my bag.“She’s going to make this so much worse.”
“How long’s she staying?”Grayson asks.
