She smiled up at me and kissed me lightly. Without a word, I sat back on my heels and reached into my back pocket for the little green box I’d stashed there. I held it out in front of me like an offering at her altar, and she leaned up on her elbows, her eyes wide.
“Maeve, I… I know we’re still teenagers, and it seems crazy, but… I want to promise you that I’ll always love you, always care for you, and always be right there when you need me. Hell,” I said with a nervous laugh, “I’ll even be there when you think youdon’t need me.”
She laughed breathlessly, and I gave her a wink as I opened the box to reveal the promise ring I’d designed for her—a rich blue sapphire surrounded by tiny white diamonds, set in a gold band. I’d been saving for it for over a year. Good thing business was booming. If only the business were something normal, like a used car lot or a furniture store. Then, things would be perfect, and we wouldn’t be having to sneak around like this.
She was now sitting up with silent tears falling from her eyes. She just held out her left hand, and I slid it on. Perfect fit.
“I love you, Maeve Collins.”
She grabbed my face and kissed me, hard at first, but her lips softened, then parted, and I felt myself starting to lose it again. I pulled her to me, and she wrapped her arms around my neck. I rolled onto my back, bringing her with me. The feeling of her body lying against mine was… Fuck, I couldn’t think straight. I stroked her tongue with mine slowly, then caught her bottom lip between my teeth as I pulled her hips down into me. She gasped softly, and I growled playfully in response.
I wonder what it is about this girl that has me so hooked as we lose ourselves in each other.
A knock at the door jolts me from my thoughts. Just the memory of her has me excited. I clear my throat and adjust myself.
“Come in,” I say softly.
Ronan throws the door open dramatically and walks in with a wry grin, wearing a pair of dark slacks and a black button-up shirt.
“We clean up nicely, brother,” he says, holding out his arms as if presenting himself.
“What did you do, raid my closet?” I say, my brows raised as I look at him, then down at my outfit.We’re matching. “Do I not pay you enough to buy your own clothes?”
Ronan chuckles, slapping me on the shoulder jovially, then pouring himself a drink from the decanter on my desk.
Ronan isn't my actual brother, but he very well could have been. His father, Eoin, was my father’s enforcer, so Ronan had grown up on the estate and was practically raised alongside me. His mother had died from a drug overdose when he was five years old, and he needed someone to fill that absence. My mother, Aisling, had done her best, taking him under her wing and treating him like another son. These days, Ronan was not only my best friend but also my right hand. When I take my father Niall’s place as head of the family business, Ronan will take Eoin’s place as the primary enforcer. The boss-enforcer relationship is incredibly sacred in our line of work, built on years of experience and trust. Over the years, Ronan and I had watched my father and Eoin run the business and all of their men with an iron fist, learning everything we could from them. But where Eoin’s demeanor was cold and stony, Ronan’s was… not. Eoin wouldn’t hesitate to break someone’s jaw, while Ronan preferred more of a swaggered approach, cracking jokes and taking the measure of a situation before deciding exactly how to break someone. We used to be very much alike in that department, but the past nine years had been hard, and I’d grown a little more serious and a lot more angry.
We did stilllooksimilar, and those who didn’t know any better assumed we were brothers. Both of us had dark, chocolate brown hair and light eyes, but mine were blue while his were a dark shade of green, darker than Maeve’s pale green.
Maeve. Her face blazes in my mind once again, and I can’t believe I’m about to sit down to dinner with her. I wonder what’s going through her mind right now, whether she’s nervous, excited, or pissed off. This will already be a shock to her. As far as she knows, our two familieshave been at odds for almost a decade. Throw me into the mix, and it’s a perfect storm for the most awkward dinner of the century.
Ronan clapped a firm hand on my shoulder, pulling me back to reality.
"It’s about that time. You ready?” he asked, looking at me closely, his eyes slightly narrowed. I sigh and toss back the rest of the whiskey.
“Nope,” I say brightly, setting the glass down on the table and straightening my collar.
We walk out of my study with Ronan leading the way. I shove my fists into my pockets, roll my shoulders, and take a deep breath. I feel antsy, uncomfortable in my skin. My muscles tense with every step I take and the adrenaline is only slightly dulled by the whiskey. Thanks to years of boxing and moreunofficialkinds of combat, I’m usually at ease in my body. Not tonight, though.
I follow Ronan down the dimly lit hallway, our steps echoing off the high ceilings from the polished oak floors. We pass evenly spaced sconces illuminating portraits of past generations of Egan’s, intricate landscapes, and curious abstract pieces, all commissioned and collected by my mother: philanthropist, art connoisseur, and stone-cold mafia magnate. I smile despite myself as I descend the stairs behind Ronan, who is whistling and swinging his arms loosely, entirely at ease.Bastard.
At the bottom of the stairs, my father is helping my mother into her coat.
“There you two are,” she says, smiling as her eyes dart back and forth between Ronan and me, no doubt taking in our similar appearances.
“Upon my word, boys,” my father says as he turns toward us. “Looks like you’re dressed for a funeral.”
Ronan smirks and claps me on the back jovially. “Well, sir, the night is young. There may be one yet.”
“Looks like the rain has cleared up some,” my father says, glancing out of the front windows. “It was absolutely pissing earlier.”
“Niall,” my mother says plaintively, rolling her eyes. “Alright, let’s get going.”
We walk out the carved double doors together, and I see Ronan’s blacked-out Bentley Continental GT parked in the circular driveway. He had never been one to ask for anything, but after hearing him talk about the car over and over again, as if it were his long-lost lover, I broke down and bought it. He drives everywhere, anyway.Lovesdriving, actually, so I figured he might as well drive something he likes.
We all stroll toward the cars, my parents chatting with Ronan animatedly. I catch a glimpse of Eoin’s shadowed profile in my parents’ black G-Wagon, waiting patiently. He was never one for conversation, preferring to stick to the sidelines and shadows.
“See you there,” my mother says, looking back at me over her shoulder before climbing in through the door my father had opened for her. I smile tightly at her and nod. My father closes the door behind her, then claps a hand on my shoulder.
