"So you learned the business."
"I learned what I had to." Her eyes found mine briefly before returning to Ronan. "That is it."
Ronan leaned back in his chair, studying her. "Alexander mentioned you've been using your resources to help families displaced by our operations against your father."
"Not what you did, but what he started. He didn’t care as long as he got what he wanted. He spoke about loyalty. Even gave me a special knife engraved with our family motto … but in reality, while I took it to heart, he didn’t always practice what he preached. So when you attacked, it just deepened the problem. Former employees. Elderly relatives who depended on his support. People caught in crossfire they didn't create." She met his gaze directly. "They didn't deserve to suffer for his choices."
"Charitable of you."
"Practical, too," she corrected. "Suffering breeds resentment. Resentment breeds a thirst for revenge. Better to diffuse potential threats through kindness than violence."
I wanted to reach out and touch her then. She’d hinted at these things but never really went all out with pouring her emotions like this. Maybe she trusted Ronan because I’d made it clear how I felt for him. He was my brother, and that would never change.
Aoife was brilliant, but try hard as she might to come across as tough, she had a heart as big as the ocean, too.
"Alex," Ronan said suddenly, his attention shifting to me. "The Beatrice situation—how thoroughly has Aoife here been briefed?"
The temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees. Aoife's fork clinked against her plate as she set it down, and I saw Cressida's face pale at the mention of her sister's name.
"She knows the relevant details," I said carefully. "The reason why she became obsessed with me and made an attempt on her life.” Of course, The... aftermath of giving her back to Patrick."
"Aftermath," Aoife repeated, her voice flat. "That's one way to describe it because it’s not over yet."
Ronan's eyes sharpened. "You disapprove of Alexander's handling of the situation?"
The question was a trap, and we all knew it. Aoife’s answer would determine whether Ronan would see her as an ally or a threat.
"I didn’t say that. Beatrice O'Brien tried to murder me in my sleep," Aoife said, her voice gaining strength. "She was unhinged, dangerous, beyond reasoning. Alexander protected me—protected everyone—from further threat."
"Even though she was Cressida's sister."
Aoife's gaze flicked to Cressida, and I saw genuine sympathy there. "Sometimes protecting the people we love requires making difficult choices. I'm sorry for your loss, Cressida, I am, but I won't apologize for being grateful to be alive. I’m still concerned about how Patrick O’Brien will contain her."
Cressida nodded slightly, tears brimming at the corners of her eyes. "Beatrice ... she wasn't herself anymore. Hadn't been for a long time. What she became..." She reached for Ronan's hand. "My husband was instrumental in arranging her marriage to Patrick. She … she…”
“She hurt you,” Ronan interjected, squeezing her hand. “Perhaps I went too far but I made sure she’d never do that again.”
“Alex did what was necessary to protect you and himself," she added, smiling at Aoife.
The moment stretched, heavy with unspoken grief and the weight of decisions that couldn't be undone. Finally, Ronan broke the silence.
"And what are your intentions now, Aoife? Long-term? Apart from survival, of course."
The question I'd been dreading. Because the truth was, I didn't know what Aoife's long-term intentions were. We'd been living in the moment, caught up in the intensity of desireand danger. But eventually, the real world would intrude, demanding choices about loyalty and future.
"I don't know," Aoife admitted, and the honesty in her voice was like a blade between my ribs. "A couple of weeks ago, I would have said rebuilding what my father lost, through fate or his own actions. I did consider revenge, as an O’Malley would, but I won’t be pressured by family demands. There’s hardly any family left anyhow. But now..."
She looked at me, and something passed between us that felt like a promise and a question all at once.
"Now I'm not sure what I want," she finished. "Beyond surviving long enough to figure it out."
Ronan's expression revealed nothing, but I knew him well enough to recognise that the neutral façade was just a cover. He was carefully processing every word she said, and most of all, the way in which she spoke, this was falling in love with.
Hadfallen in love with.
"Blood aside, Alex is, for all intents and purposes, my brother," he said suddenly, his voice deep, full of conviction. "The only family that matters. I've watched him build something from nothing, earn respect simply by being who he is."
Aoife nodded, eyes focused on him.
