His boss, Anders, had promoted him, not just promoted, but he made Ciar a shareholder of the business. The man was creative in every aspect of his life except for the name of his company—Anders.
Ciar managed his own team and collaborated closely with Anders on major client accounts. He was in a plane flying all over the world more often than sleeping in his bed, but he made sure to only fly out after Imogen’s bedtime and never be gone more than two to three days.
He felt plenty of guilt for missing any moments of her day, but he made every moment count when he was home. Nothing fell outside his duties; bathtime, story time, bottles, and poopy diapers.
He’d just gotten in early that morning from a quick trip to Spain, where Anders had him look over a brokerage that waswanting to sell. There was a meeting at the office in the morning, which meant he had the whole day home to spend with his wee one.
Tina had just stomped out the front door, as though his presence offended her, which it must, because she’d never warmed to him, when the doorbell chimed. He hurried to answer before it woke Imogen.
He only placed a formula order thirty minutes ago. Must be a slow morning. He tapped the video monitor next to the door and saw three frowning, white-haired faux triplets.
Oh, shit.Dagr, Daniel, and Jonathan.
The door opened, and he was greeted with a hammer fist to the face. Daniel. Jonathan growled, “Fuck, Dan. Not the plan, bro.” Ciar retaliated and punched Daniel in the stomach, knocking the air out of him.
Jonathan punched Ciar in the stomach, and Ciar punched Jonathan smack in the left eye, causing Jonathan to swear. Dagr barked, “For fuck’s sake,” before he entered the melee.
It became a free-for-all as the four men wrestled across Ciar’s foyer. At that point, he had no idea where his punches were landing and who was taking swipes at him. He was pretty sure everyone was punching indiscriminately at that point.
Until “The fuck,” Daniel yelled. Ciar pried his swollen eyes open as far as they would go in time to get doused with water. Squinting, he managed to make out Tina dumping water over the lot of them, her face red and rigid.
“Of all the imbecilic, juvenile behavior,” Tina muttered. “I have never witnessed anything so ridiculous in my life. Get your arses off that floor and park them at the kitchen table before I make more use of this glass vase than watering you toddlers.”
None of them dared naysay Tina’s orders and, with moans and groans, gingerly separated their limbs from one another to limp to the flat’s only table.
Tina stood with her hands on her hips, practically vibrating with censure. “Do you knuckleheads hear that? Do you?” she hissed.
Ciar could hear the faint stirrings of Imogen stirring in her crib and groaned.
She stomped into the kitchen proper and sat about making a bottle. “You have woken a child up with your nonsense. You boys,” and she pointed at all four of them, “will behave and shake hands, or I will set about to box all of your ears.”
She slammed her hand on the counter, causing all of the men to flinch. “Have I made myself clear?”
“Yes, ma’am,” they chorused.
Before she could take the bottle to his daughter, Ciar said, “I thought you were gone for the day.”
He blanched when she turned her furious gaze his way. “Do not sass me, boy. You’ll regret it and then some.”
“Christ Almighty,” Daniel groaned.
“Ballbuster,” Jonathan muttered while dabbing his bloody lip with the tail end of his shirt.
Dagr was touching the swelling around one of his eyes and cheek, before grumbling, “We had one plan. One.”
Ciar carefully got up, barely holding back whimpers of pain, to lay out several kitchen towels and fill them with ice.
He handed the packs out like treats before finding his seat again. Nothing was said for a few minutes, and honestly, he was glad for the silence. This wasn’t a social visit, clearly, and he wasn’t in a hurry to hear what they wanted.
After five more minutes had passed, Dagr broke the silence. “We came here to speak with you, Ciar.”
“My broken face and ribs say different.”
“Gray’s been crying. You deserve worse, you piece of shit,” Daniel barked, groaning as his split lip started to bleed again.
Hearing that Gray had been crying destroyed him. Christ, but he hated himself worse in that moment than any other.
“You’ve done nothing to fix this, Ciar,” Jonathan slammed his fist on the tabletop to drive his point home.
