He nods, despite the uncertainty in his eyes.
Lorcan gets to his feet and shakes Callum’s hand. “Our lawyers will be in touch.”
Once Callum is gone, and it’s just my family left, I let out a long exhale as I reach for my whiskey glass.
Kieran laughs. “She’s going to kill you one day. You do know that, right?”
“She can give it her best shot, but Sullivans always come out on top.”
Chapter Eight
CIARA
I joltupright in bed at the sound of my phone ringing and immediately groan as I open my eyes.
It’s still dark outside.
“What kind of psychopath calls this early?” I blindly reach around my nightstand until I find my phone.
When I flip it over and see it’s six a.m. and the call is from an unknown number, I fight the urge to throw my phone at the wall. But then I consider the only person who would dare call me at this hour and find myself sliding my thumb across the screen.
“This better be good.” I put the call on speaker and collapse back against my pillows.
“Morning,Tine Bheag.”
My blood boils instantly at the nickname, and I bolt back upright as I glare at the phone screen.
He’s lucky he’s not here right now because I’d love nothing more than to wrap my hands around his throat. Then again, the last place I want Ronan Sullivan is in my bedroom… Right?
I push my tangled hair out of my face. “What do you want, Sullivan?”
“Considering the fact we’re going to be husband and wife in less than a week, I think you can call me by my first name.”
“I’m sorry,what?”
“The chapel’s booked for next Friday. The reception venue too.” His voice is calm and infuriatingly casual.
I blink, trying to process the words. “Next Friday… as inthiscoming Friday?”
“Mhm.”
Despite the ridiculously early hour, Ronan doesn’t even sound tired. He probably hasn’t slept at all, the overachieving bastard.
“You can’t be serious.”
“I’m always serious.”
I throw the covers off with a frustrated huff and swing my legs out of bed. “You’re planning a damn royal wedding with a week’s notice? Are youinsane?”
“This isn’t just a wedding, Ciara. It’s a show of force.” His tone is sharper now. “Both of our families are under the microscope, and everyone will be watching us. A lavish wedding sends a message that we’re united and powerful. But most of all, that we’re not to be fucked with.”
I want to argue, but he’s right, which makes this whole thing ten times worse.
“So, find a dress and get your bridesmaids sorted, asap. Don’t worry about the cost, I’ll take care of it.”
A bitter laugh bubbles out of me. “Of course, you will. Can’t have your little trophy bride looking cheap.”
“I didn’t say that.”
