“That’s because you’re the king of horrible decisions, handsome. To which are we referring?” a familiar feminine voice interjects.
My gaze lifts to the end of the hall where Mara Kane stands, casually unwinding a blood-red scarf from around her neck. She ruffles her bob the color of glossy raven wings and gives us a haughty look when we don’t answer her question quickly enough. We both stare at her as though we’re seeing a ghost.
“Mara, love, what the hellareyou doing here?” She allows Eamon to tug her fully inside the office as he shuts the door behind her. She tosses her Birkin onto my desk and arranges herself on one of the two chairs opposite, and Eamon plops down next to her.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I ask in a low voice. “Aren’t you supposed to be in Dublin planning your wedding?”
“So many questions,” she says lightly without answering. “I knew you boys missed me.”
“Mara,” I repeat.
“The wedding is still happening. Good God, you’re as bad as my mother. You’ll receive your invitations at some point. It’s notlike I need to plan the damn thing right away because I’m on my deathbed or something. But enough about that unpleasantness. What horrible decision have you made now?”
I can’t force the words out, so Eamon does, punctuated by gross exaggeration and blatant lies, but Mara gleans the gist.
“Well?” Eamon demands, eyes on Mara as he gestures to me.
She tucks a lock of hair behind her ear, her eyes narrowing into slits. “Well, what?”
“Aren’t you going to try to talk some sense into him?”
“Since when have either of youeverlistened to reason? Especially if it came from me. I gave up trying to be your keeper years ago.” She waves an elegant, manicured hand. “Besides, it’s far more entertaining to witness the inevitable consequences of your own actions.”
“Thanks, I think,” I say. At the same time, Eamon interjects, “I listen to you!”
Mara rolls her eyes. “Name one time you’ve ever listened to me.” She pauses as Eamon screws up his face in concentration. She gestures at him, a weary hand wave of someone exhausted from dealing with idiots. “Precisely.”
Eamon sighs dramatically. “You’re only saying that because you don’t want to be the only one married.”
I flinch inwardly. Mara’s upcoming marriage to Niall Cleary, a slimy bastard who basically bought her as a teenager, is the one subject that could cause the ice princess to lose her cool. Just to be safe, I roll my chair backward to inch out of the blast radius of her infamous temper.
Thankfully, she merely crosses her legs, evidently in a benevolent state of mind, and says, “Is that jealousy I hear, Eamon? Are you upset because there isn’t a person on this planet who wants to marry you?”
“I—” For once, Eamon is speechless.
“He’d have to find someone to put up with his… eccentricities first.”
Mara gives an unladylike snort. “If by eccentricities you mean his affinity for torture—and not the fun kind—then you aren’t wrong.”
“I’m standing right here, you fuckin’ arseholes.” There’s a pause where his vision goes off, like he’s staring at something far away. “And what kind isn’t the fun kind?”
“I’m not sure there’s a woman—or man, for that matter—alive who could do that,” Mara says to me.
“I’ll have you know if I wanted a wife, I could find one,” Eamon says, and I can’t imagine a woman crazy enough to consider spending the rest of her life with Eamon willingly. Then it occurs to me he could rope one inunwillingly, and I want to curse Mara for ever planting that seed in his mind. Maybe I’ll distract him with another job. A little bloodshed will wipe the whole idea away.
“Of course you could, dear.” Mara reaches over to cup his cheek consolingly and ends it with a playful smack. “Consider yourself lucky that you don’t have to be shackled to a ball and chain like me and Aiden. You’re free to do whatever you wish. When is the funeral? I mean, wedding?” Mara asks.
“A week.” I can’t tell if I’m more eager to get it over with or on edge to see the seeds of my goal for my mother’s freedom finally bearing fruit.
“I’m afraid I have to agree with Eamon here. You shouldn’t marry this girl for your mother,” Mara says. “Believe me, she wouldn’t want this for you.”
“Give it a rest, you two. I know what I’m doing. Marrying the senator’s daughter isn’t the worst thing that could happen. Consider it a means to an end.”
I can’t help but feel in my gut, it will be a bloody end.
CHAPTER 2
CATRIONA
