This office used to be his after all, and the room feels weighed down by his death. It wasn’t long ago that he used to sit in this very chair, no doubt smoking a cigar from the lingering smell in the air, and drinking whiskey, if the half-filled decanters on the cart to my left are any clue.
Despite my feelings toward the Sullivans, Seamus was loved by many…but clearly, not all.
Someone hated him enough to want him dead and risked their own back by pulling the trigger, and I know Ronan isn’t going to stop until their blood is on his hands.
I guess this is one thing Ronan and I have in common.
Perhaps if I get to Seamus’s killer first, I can use their hatred of the Sullivans to my advantage…
The doorbell rings, jerking me back to reality.
I’ve been so lost in my thoughts that I’ve almost completely forgotten that Mila is arriving any minute.
After checking Ronan’s computer is switched off, I dart out of the office and hurry down the stairs to let her in. Part of me is still in disbelief that Ronan willingly let me invite my friend over to his house, but then again, this is my house also, and I need to start treating it as such.
I throw open the front door. “Hey.”
Mila immediately looks past me into the grand foyer, and her gray eyes almost bug out of their sockets.
“Damn, McCarthy. You’re really moving up in the world.” She whistles as she steps over the threshold.
She looks effortlessly chic as always in a pair of low-rise jeans and a cropped t-shirt, her dark hair tucked behind her ears and her lips painted a bright shade of red.
I roll my eyes before enveloping her in a tight hug. “I’ve missed you.”
“I literally saw you yesterday.” She chuckles, but that only makes me hug her tighter.
Right now, Mila feels like the only thing tethering me to my old life. Even my brother has gone radio silent since the wedding, which hurts more than I care to admit. He was meant to have my back, but the moment I signed that marriage license, it was like he couldn’t wait to rid himself of me.
It doesn’t matter…
When I finally let her go, Mila reaches into her NYU tote bag and pulls out a bottle of wine.
"Figured you'd need this.” She grins.
“You have no idea.”
After giving Mila a brief tour of the downstairs of the house, I take her into the kitchen, where I get us some wine glasses before heading out the French doors and onto the patio.
It’s a surprisingly warm day for September, and the sky is clear, which makes it the perfect weather for drinking wine and lounging out by Ronan’s ridiculous pool.
“I know we’re meant to hate him, but damn, this house is incredible.” Mila sighs as she kicks off her tennis shoes and leans back on her lounger.
I remain quiet as I pour us both a drink, hoping that Mila takes my silence as a cue to avoid the topic of Ronan.
I hand her a glass, and her bright red lips pull into a smile.
“So, are you going to tell me what happened between you and Ronan?”
I choke on my drink, which only makes her grin widen.
"What are you talking about?"
"Oh, come on, I’m not blind, Ciara. Something’s going on, so you might as well spill."
“Is it that obvious?”
“It’s written all over your face.” She laughs.
