Chapter Sixteen
RONAN
The coffeein my hand is bitter and way too strong, even for my taste, but I sip it anyway as I climb out of my Mercedes.
I’ve parked right out front of the towering skyscraper where Sullivan Investments is located, which is where I plan on spending the entire day. I’ve not been back here since my father’s death, and I can’t hold off any longer.
If I’m going to step into his shoes, I need to rip the fucking Band-Aid off and act like the boss.
Even though it’s eight in the morning, the sky is dark and angry, which only adds to my mood as I stalk up the front steps toward the building.
I’m yet to find a single lead that brings me closer to finding my father’s killer, which means all of the tabloids are still circulating various rumors despite my recent nuptials.
I hoped the wedding would keep them busy for a while, but it seems people are more interested in bloodshed than happy ever afters.
Tossing my coffee in the garbage can outside, I push open the heavy glass door and head inside to the expansive foyer.The security guard on my right gives me a curt nod, though he makes no attempt to hide his curiosity as he looks at me.
Despite spending countless hours in this very building, learning the names of every single employee as well as their spouses and offspring, I’m under no illusion that most of them will be watching with eagle eyes to see if I crash and burn.
My father left behind very big shoes to fill, and that pressure is slowly starting to suffocate me.
As I step into the elevator, I tug at my tie, suddenly claustrophobic as the irritating music filters through the speakers.
A lot of the work I have to do today could easily have been done from my home office, but I need to save face in the aftermath of my father’s death. Not only that, but after stupidly walking in on Ciara in the bath last night, being around her would only be a distraction.
I don’t know why I’m so hell-bent on torturing myself. I could have just knocked on the damn door, but no. I had to catch a glimpse of her naked body, all pink and wet in the hot water.
It took everything in me not to haul her out of that bath and carry her to bed to finish what I started the other night. But I can’t cross that line with Ciara.
Teasing her is one thing, but fucking her? That would be a mistake.
We might be married on paper, but in real life, I need to keep some distance between us. I can’t afford to lose focus, not when my father has barely been in the ground a week.
Now is my time to prove he made the right choice by naming me head of the family, and I refuse to blow that chance because I want to get into Ciara’s pants.
But that doesn’t mean that I don’t think about it,all the damn time.
“Get a fucking grip, Sullivan,” I hiss throughmy teeth as I rub a hand over my jaw, staring at the floor numbers, which seem to be climbing especially slowly today.
When the doors finally open onto the sixteenth floor, I head across the main floor, where most of the employees' cubicles are situated, toward my father’s office at the far end, ignoring the sympathetic stares of everyone I pass.
There’s nothing I hate more than people feeling sorry for me.
When I finally step inside the office and close the door behind me, his absence hits me like a punch to the gut.
Everything is the same as the last time I was here. I half-expect him to walk in and immediately cross to the ridiculous globe bar that he bought at an auction and pour us both a glass of scotch.
Instead, there’s nothing but silence.
I lean against the door for a moment, letting it all sink in.
The last time I saw him in this office, he was the epitome of alive, barking orders down the phone and cursing out some poor bastard who owed him money.
Now he’s nothing but a memory, trapped in a room that still smells like his aftershave.
I rub my jaw and force myself to cross to the desk and drop into the black leather chair. It creaks under my weight, and I let out a long exhale as I lean back and look up at the ceiling.
I thought my father would always be here. Even in the violent, fucked-up world we live in, I thought he was untouchable. An immortal among men, who could never be stopped. But now he’s gone, and I’m the one sitting at his desk, trying to act like that doesn’t terrify the hell out of me.
