Page 32 of Ireland

“Yeah, well…” His shoulders drooped. “That was before she asked me to be a sperm donor, and I turned her down. It’s been really awkward between us ever since.”

Leaning forward, Eva set her hand over his. “Building a family with your husband is your right. You’re kind to think of her and her feelings but didn’t let her—or anyone—steal your joy.”

Not even me.And it killed her to have that concern. She couldn’t stand the thought of being the kind of person whose misery tainted the happiness of her loved ones.

“How’s everything so far?” their server asked as he stopped by their table. “How are we doing on drinks?”

Looking up at him, Eva saw how his smile tightened at the edges and knew her face revealed too much. “We need a bottle of champagne!” she pronounced too loudly. “We’re celebrating!”

“That’s great!” He looked relieved. “I’ll grab the wine menu.”

Ireland froze as the ringing of her doorbell reverberated, her body stiffening.

Ronan’s forehead rested against hers, his eyes squeezed shut. His big body was taut and quivering, fighting against his abrupt restraint.

Or was she the one trembling?

“Maudit!” he growled.

She didn’t need to know the curse he’d uttered to understand what it meant. Unwrapping her legs from around his waist, she tried to separate, but he held her securely. Her blood was so hot she felt feverish, and her pulse raced at a gallop. Their panting breaths mingled between them, both hovering on the precipice between control and abandon.

The doorbell rang again, and she jolted, her nerves stretched to the limit.

Was it Eva?

God help them both if it was Gideon.

She debated ignoring whoever was out there. But if it was her brother or sister-in-law, they knew she was home. The family location sharing app they all used would betray her.

Ronan set her down and away from him, his face flushed and eyes dark as coal. “Are you worried it’s the guy from Friday night? Does the desk downstairs still have his name?”

Blinking in confusion, Ireland tried to puzzle out what he was saying. “The guy from—Oh, Graham? No, he was never on the permanent list.” She ran trembling hands over her hair, then her clothes. “And I’d fuck him up if he showed his face here.”

He huffed out a laugh and raked both hands through his hair. “Of course you would.”

What the hell was she going to do with him? Eva showing up wouldn’t be so bad, but Gideon would take one look at both of them and see that they’d been fooling around. Knowing her brother, the interrogation would begin immediately. Hell, he’d even grilled Alina when they first met, albeit charmingly and to the director’s delight.

“I’m going to need a minute,” Ronan said as knocking commenced.

She seized that opportunity. “You can go in my room through that door over there. My bathroom’s in the back. Could you take my bra with you, please? Just leave it on my bed.”

He arched a brow, then reached forward and cupped her jaw, his fingers resting lightly on her pulse. “You good,cher?”

Setting her hand over his, Ireland forced herself to focus on him alone and give him a genuine smile. “Yes. Frustrated. Maybe a little irritated. But I’m happy with you.”

“Okay.” He pressed his lips to her forehead, then strolled away, catching up her bra before entering her bedroom and closing the door behind him.

Thank god she’d straightened up in there, too, and made her bed. She’d been hopeful they’d end up there, naked and sweaty and satisfied.

Rushing to the door, she pasted on a bright smile and pulled it open with a flourish. “What’s the rush on a lovely Sund— Oh my god, Alina!” she squealed, throwing her arms wide with relief and joy. She hugged her best friend hard, possibly too hard. “What are you doing here?”

Alina laughed, and they spun together in a tangled embrace. “I caught an earlier flight. I don’t know what I’ve done to earn such a warm welcome, buthello!”

Ireland whispered in her ear, “I’ve got a man over, and I thought you might be Gideon or Eva.”

“Ah.” Alina pulled back, revealing amused brown eyes. Dressed in an elegant and comfortable lounge suit in green cashmere, she looked fresh for having recently endured a transatlantic flight. Even with the comforts of first class, dry plane air did a number on most people. “So, you’re happier about not seeing them than you are about seeing me. Got it.”

“It’s an equal mixture of both, I promise you.” Ireland shut the door and gave a happy sigh. “And I’m thrilled you’ll get to meet Ronan. I need someone I know and trust to tell me what I’m missing because he’s too perfect to me.”

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