His constant needling, especially of Maeve, really grinds my gears.
I’ve got to hand it to her though. Maeve doggedly asks questions aboutTheCypress. She’s trying to optimize a bad situation, even as her father continually shuts her down.
Mission-wise, I’m right where I need to be, yet, this is the worst I’ve felt since the salty Pacific air greeted me the day of my arrival.
She’s convinced herself that I only slept with her to get to her father. Nothing else adequately explains why I circumvented her after we shared such a great business rapport…along with everything else.
There’s no excuse for my behavior. No new, believable lie I can conjure up to recover Nolan Doyle, more dirt on Declan and the Port Kings, repair my relationship with Finn, and somehow, cling to Maeve for as long as possible.
I want my cake, cookies, candy, and ice cream too.
Greedy, greedy, greedy.
Finally, Declan shifts toward Maeve and gloats that he and I engaged in a good conversation about the hotel’s future.
Without her.
The anger percolating in my gut threatens to explode. I spear a noodle with excessive force, wishing I could do the sameto Declan’s face. “It was just casual conversation. Obviously, we’re waiting until the wedding’s over so you’re free to schedule a meeting where we can all sit down and talk strategy and timeframes.”
Declan cocks his head and flashes a stab-worthy grin. “Maeve, sweetheart, Kellin and I both agree you’ve done a decent job with the place.”
“Outstanding, you mean.” I see and raise your smile, you smug bastard.
Come on, Maeve, smile back. Or growl at me. Rip me a new one. I don’t care. I’ll accept any sign of life at this point.
Declan chuckles. “But we don’t actually need you at the business meeting when we discuss Zenith acquiring the Cypress. I mean, we won’t be replacing you. Kellin thinks you’re a hard worker. You get the job done.”
A hard worker? Get the job done?He’s acting like she’s the latest Dyson to drop on Amazon.
Maeve might fly across the table at that comment. And not at her father. At me. She thinks I said those things. That I agree with his bullshit.
Her neck flames a vivid red. Similar to her flush after I’ve railed her so hard that?—
I squirm in the chair and check that the napkin covers my lap. Definitely not the time for that type of trip down memory lane.
“More wine, Maeve?” Sophia pops up beside her to pour. “I hope you’ve saved some room for tiramisu, Mr. Brennan.” She tops off Declan’s glass, too, before disappearing into the kitchen.
“As I was saying, don’t worry, sweetheart. You can still play house. We won’t replace you. But leave the real business to the men.”
The red in Maeve’s face bleeds into a mottled white. She shifts to the right, her voice a hiss. “How could you do this, Dad?The Cypress is mine. If you keep taking over, keep adding more of your ‘goons’ to the halls and ‘assets’ to the penthouse, you’re going to chase all our guests away, and then there won’t be any business to sell.”
I sip my rye while triumph blooms inside me.
Assets in the penthouse, confirmed.
“The Cypress isours, Maeve. Although, my patience with your little charade at running it may end if you keep this up.”
Connor stares at his father. When Maeve beseeches him with her eyes, he just shakes his head. “Let it go, sis.”
When her shoulders droop in defeat, I fight the urge to punch her older brother in the face.
Does no man in this family have her back?
Brody clears his throat. “Dad, don’t you think…” He stops short at Declan’s sharp glance, his gaze dropping to his beer.
Coward, I want to yell. Though at least he tried…in the wimpiest way possible.
Maeve finishes her wine, turns on me, and stares me down for the first time all night. “You should be cautious about who you go into business with, Kellin. I’m just looking out for you.”
