Page 16 of Ireland

Swallowing, she said, “Oh, I didn’t know that.”

“We miss home, of course.” Valentin’s smile was wistful. “My sister, most of all. But we know she’s in good hands with Ronan. You’ll meet her, I’m sure.”

Ireland didn’t know what to say to that. It was a lovely idea, a tremulous and exciting possibility. “He told me how he met Marcelle.”

“To come so far,” Val murmured, his gaze distant as he revisited the memory. “I couldn’t be prouder.”

“Tell me you’re not embarrassing me,” Ronan admonished as he returned to the table.

“Is everything all right?” she asked.

“As much as it can be with Jules. They’re heading up to Mohegan Sun.”

A server stopped by the table and spoke discreetly to Valentin, who then stood. “I’ll be right back.”

Genevieve stood, too. “Excuse me while I make the rounds. We close at ten. Then we’ll be free to relax.”

When Ireland set her fork down again, it was because she’d eaten every bite, and only a pile of tails remained.

“A woman of lusty appetites,” Ronan observed, having finished first. “You captivate me.”

Ireland drank her wine and studied the fascinating man across from her. “I was just thinking the same about you. You knew they’d sing your praises when you brought me here.”

His smile was devilish as his strong, talented fingers stroked the stem of his glass. He sat partially reclined, his long legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles, his left arm draped across his chairback and his right on the table. Lucifer himself had to envy Ronan’s effortless flair.

“In my defense,” he murmured, “I’d planned for dinner with them weeks ago, but yes, I thought their endorsement might shore up your goodwill toward me, so I moved the dates around. Now, I just have to convince you to see me again tomorrow.”

Leaning forward, she spoke in a conspiratorial whisper. “Not that I’m complaining, but… You had me with the trumpet.”

Eva rang the doorbell of Ireland’s apartment and smiled when she heard her sister-in-law humming loudly as she approached the door. It swung open, and the statuesque brunette stood barefoot, her toned arms and legs bared by a tank top and shorts.

Pulling a spoon out of her mouth, Ireland grinned at her. “Good morning!”

She appeared to be in such good spirits that Eva laughed, relieved. “Good morning to you, too.”

Ireland stepped back and held the door open with her foot, extending her arm in invitation. She had a bowl of cereal in one hand and a television remote tucked under her arm. Her hip-length curtain of inky hair was piled atop her head in a messy bun, and she wore ECRA+ cooling under-eye gel pads. She was one of the most naturally gorgeous women Eva had ever encountered, if notthemost.

“Lauren,” Ireland called out to the AI assistant, “lower volume.”

The breezy SoCal reggae piping through the surround sound speakers dropped to a conversational level.

Entering, Eva crossed the small foyer into the living room, which boasted soaring ceilings, wide and tall windows, and prewar embellishments. Over the years, the adjacent guest apartment to her and Gideon’s penthouse had offered a haven for friends and family in transitional periods of their lives. Her best friend Cary had lived in it a couple of years before his marriage. Chris, her father-in-law, had stayed there for a spell while he searched for a permanent home after his divorce. And then Ireland had settled in when she’d started at Columbia. The place now reflected the young woman’s tastes and style—it was as cheerfully fierce as Ireland herself.

Her cat, a massive white Maine Coon named Blizzard, dozed on a sunlit shelf attached to a wall papered in a black and white photograph of a NYC building. Disguised as three-dimensional fire escape landings and stairs, the many artfully arranged cat hammocks and ladders were fun features Ireland had added.

“You checking up on me about Mom?” Ireland asked, putting her bowl and remote on the coffee table before sitting down with crossed legs. “Or the asshole ex?”

“Both.” Eva sat on the other end of the white couch. “But I’m going to guess you’re not fazed. Gideon said you wouldn’t be, but still…”

Ireland smiled. “You’re the best, you know that? Always looking after everyone, making sure we’re all okay. You’ve done so much for our family. I think that a lot, but don’t say it enough.”

Deeply touched, Eva demurred, “It doesn’t need saying but thank you.”

“As to how I’m doing… I don’t give two shits about Graham Teller. I would’ve handled it differently, but not necessarily better.” Ireland gave an offhand shrug. “He’s not the first to see me as a superhighway to success, but he’s the last. And karma will deal with him eventually.”

So, Gideon was right about how his sister was taking it. Good. Still, Eva wasn’t going to stop working on his collaborative skills. “Yes, I believe that, too.”

“And I talked to Mom this morning. She sounds better than she has in a long time. She loves being a wife to influential men. She loves planning, hosting, and socializing. She’s an asset to any businessman, and Daniel will be lucky to have her. Once he sees her in action, he’ll kick himself for not proposing sooner.”

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