This was never about the damn payment system. It was about what it represented.
My father’s legacy.
He oversaw every detail and perfected it brick by brick, just like he built the rest of our empire. But now he’s gone, and the system he left behind, the legacy he trusted me to protect, is being rewritten right in front of my goddamn eyes.
By a McCarthy, no less.
I rub my jaw and exhale a long breath as the image of Ciara’s face as I yelled at her floods my mind.
I didn’t mean to go off at her like some unhinged maniac in the middle of the night. She didn't deserve that.
But grief is a tricky fucking thing, and it seems to be creeping up on me when I least expect it.
After my father died, I promised myself that I’d put this empire first and not let emotions cloud my judgment. Right now, I’m failing at both.
The right thing to do is to adopt Ciara’s system, even if it pains me to do so, and admit to her that I was wrong.
“Fuck.” I push back my chair and get to my feet.
I’ve spent my entire life being the one who’s right. I can’t remember the last time I uttered the wordsI’m sorry,but if I don’t extend a hand to Ciara after what I said to her last night, if I don’t show her I’m capable of being something better than some asshole, I’m going to lose her.
Maybe not today.
Maybe not tomorrow.
But it’ll happen.
And for reasons I don’t even want to admit to myself yet, the idea of losing her fucking guts me.
I stalk from the room and head back upstairs, knowing that if I don’t apologize now, I’m going to lose my nerve. But when I get to the top of the stairs and see the door to Ciara’s room is wide open, I frown.
“Ciara?”
Only silence answers.
I frown as I peer into the room.
The bed is freshly made, and the door to the bathroom is open, but she’s not here.
I head back out into the hall, and just to be safe, I decide to check my own room. I wouldn’t put it past Ciara to make apoint by climbing back into my bed, but to my disappointment, she’s not in there either.
I eye the rumpled sheets and swallow a groan.
If my father were here, he’d call me afecking eejitfor digging my heels in so deep that I was willing to kick a naked woman out of my bed just because I didn’t want to admit she was right.
Running a hand through my hair, I shut the door to my bedroom and descend the stairs two at a time before crossing the foyer and entering the kitchen.
Immediately, my eyes flick to the table, and I notice the plates of food have been cleared away. I curse under my breath at the sight of the burnt-out candle and the wilting flowers, which serve as yet another reminder of how much of an ass I am.
She went to all the effort of making me dinner in order to get to know me, and how did I repay her? By taking her to bed, then subsequently kicking her out of it.
I decide to make myself an espresso in the hopes that Ciara will appear from wherever she is soon. A quick glance out of the French doors tells me she’s not outside, but she could also be hiding in the pool house.
As the beans grind, I pull my phone out of my pocket and open up my tracking app to see where she is.
According to my app, her phone is upstairs, but she isn’t…
“What the hell?”
