I flick open her phone and navigate straight to her calendar, where I discover what I need almost immediately.
A personal note on the day I arrived.
Get Dad et al out of the penthouse!
The hairs on my neck prickle to life.
How delightfully suspicious.
I haven’t seen Declan Gallagher in the hotel at all since I’ve been here. Just Brody, coming and going like a bellhop at peak tourist season.
Funny that I can’t get near the penthouse. But while we sat in the Arden, enjoying the sunset, Maeve’s eyes traveled to the balcony above us at least twice.
The balcony off that luxury suite.
The eyes don’t lie, and hers skittered there when she talked about her dad and brothers.
Admittedly, focusing proved a little difficult while simultaneously working to keep my libido in check.
Maintaining control over my body got harder—literally—the longer we sat on that rooftop and the more she opened up.
With the fading sun dipping her skin in a golden glow.
With the breeze tickling the wispy hairs along her temples.
With those string lights glittering in her eyes and bouncing over her freckles. That about put my dick over the edge.
I shake the memory off and concentrate on the note in her phone.
She specifically told me a VIP client had the penthouse.
She averted her eyes when she informed me, now that I think back. An obvious fib.
Lenora piled on after that, the lie growing legs when I encountered her later while searching for Maeve.“You know how needy world-famous authors can be. She’s up there putting out little fires, I’m sure.”
According to the cams Rory’s monitoring, Maeve used the private elevator three times over the last few days. A straight shot from the lobby to the penthouse.
Maeve’s harboring secrets, and I’m almost positive my gut instincts are correct.
Declan Gallagher is up there with Nolan Doyle.
It makes sense.
Declan wouldn’t stash the man at his own house or with his sons.
And Doyle may be an idiot, but he’s not stupid. He wouldn’t risk staying somewhere private. Somewhere Finn could send an army, guns blazing, to tear the place down.
The Cypress offers the perfect cover, allowing him to hide in plain sight. Even if the Irish Kings found out Doyle’s location, Declan knows we’d never risk attacking in the open. And this way, he gets to conceal his little rat and cause Maeve misery by running his business from her hotel. Win-win for him.
Ifinallyfound the fucker.
Satisfied, I toss my clothes back onto the floor, then replace the phone at Maeve’s bedside and crawl beneath her luxurious sheets.
When I rest my hand on the soft skin of her thigh, she stirs and rolls onto her back.
I know I won’t wake her.
She’s out until dawn, at least.
