Chapter Eight
KIERAN
Riley wants a contract,and something about that doesn’t sit right with me.
She says she wants everything in writing to protect herself from me. As ifI’mthe one with something to hide.
But if anyone is going to be the one to get stabbed in the back, it’s going to be me. She’s Declan Walsh’s daughter, after all. That blood runs deep, no matter how many pretty speeches she gives about not being like her father.
Maybe Ronan’s ready to forget that because she showed up on his doorstep looking helpless and scared, but I’m not him.
I don’t forget.
Her timing is a little too convenient if you ask me. I mean, she shows up only a few weeks after Ronan shot her father dead, and now my brother is handing over access to our family with only a sob story to go on?
I’m not buying it, and I’m tired of pretending I do.
By the time morning comes around, I’ve already decided I’m not going to let this go.
I show up at Ronan’s office atSullivan Investments unannounced with a couple of black coffees in hand in the hopes of getting him to finally see sense after a full night's sleep.
The office is vast, with its floor-to-ceiling windows that look out over the New York skyline.
I haven’t been here since my father died, and to my surprise, it looks exactly the same. I would have thought Ronan would have gutted the place and brought in his own things, but no.
He’s sitting behind the enormous glass desk in the leather chair that our father occupied for over three decades, which feels like a kick in the teeth.
But that’s an argument for another day.
“You’re not getting out of this marriage,” Ronan says as I walk in unannounced.
He doesn’t even look up from his computer, which only pisses me off.
“I know.” I shut the glass door behind me with my foot.
“Then, why are you here?”
“What? Am I not allowed to bring my brother coffee?”
Ronan glances up at me then and frowns. When he doesn’t say anything, I let out a long exhale.
“All right, fine. I’m here to talk about Riley.”
Ronan sighs, shutting down his laptop and leaning back in his chair. “I figured as much. What has she done?”
“Nothing.”
“Okay. Then, what’s the problem?”
“She wants a contract.”
“So, call Jackson.”
“That’s not the issue.” I take a seat across from him and set the two coffee cups down. “I already got the three of us an appointment this afternoon to sit down and hash out the details of our arrangement.”
“I’m failing to see this issue.”
“The fact that she wants one at all is suspicious.”
