Page 71 of Ireland

She gave him an indulgent look. “You do understand that you’re you, and they’d never tell you that they didn’t have things under control.”

“That’s because they’re paid to run things smoothly, not to run my wife ragged.” He pressed his lips to her forehead. “The jet’s ready and waiting, the flight crew is presently spoiling Lucky, and I turned my phone off the minute you pulled intosight. We’ll fly back Friday morning for the masquerade and out again that night. Or possibly Saturday morning if seeing me in a tuxedo has the usual effect on your libido.”

“You can’t blame me for your hotness, ace.”

His mouth curved. “I’m absolutely not complaining.”

Catching her lower lip in her teeth, Eva debated all the reasons they couldn’t just take off on a whim.

“We haven’t played hooky in a while,” he contended. “And think of how many trees we’ll get planted to offset our carbon emissions.”

“That’s a truly terrible argument,” she grumbled.

“But was it effective?”

She kissed him, long and slow and deep. “You alone are all the incentive I need to do anything.”

“Are you driving, or am I?” he asked, his lips moving against hers.

“I am. I’ve missed it.” Pulling back, she brushed a wayward strand of hair away from his magnificent face. “Did you get any work done?”

He smiled. “Ireland gave me a heads-up about a building she thought I might have a use for. I had the acquisitions team look into it, and she’s right about its potential. It also has the side benefit of a new tenant in a recently vacated property.”

“So, it was a productive day for you.” She placed her hand over his heart. “I’m glad because I’m really happy you’re here.”

“Angel, with you is the only place I ever want to be.”

Ireland turned in a slow circle. The former Vidal offices, now emptied of furniture, looked like a dystopian wasteland. The ever-present music that had once enlivened the air had been silenced. The space seemed cavernous, the open windows creating a whistling breeze that echoed throughout. Cords dangled from the walls and lay like snakes on the carpeted floor, having no equipment to connect to. Torn bits and pieces of paper were scattered on the floor, along with one of her business cards—Ireland Vidal, Chief Executive Officer & Shareholder—and a pen with her name engraved on the barrel.

That was all that was left. What she had set in motion could not be stopped.

She dashed away hot tears but could not control her bitter laughter and moaning sobs, her emotions swinging wildly between joy and despair.

A warm arm slid around her shoulders, spooking her.

“You did all you could, sweetheart,” her father murmured.

She looked at him, catching his half-smile. Then she saw through his glasses to the sheen of wetness in his eyes.

“I’m so sorry, Daddy!” she sobbed, both heartbroken and relieved that she’d failed.

“Don’t be. Now you’re free to do what you want.”

That was the most terrifying thing of all. “I don’t know what that is.”

“You’ll figure it out.” He slid his fingers beneath the edge of his glasses and swiped at his tears.

“What will you do?” She turned to face him and found herself alone, his warmth and touch disappearing as if he’d never been beside her. “Dad?”

An inexplicable breeze blew the ripped-off cover of a magazine across the carpet to hug her feet. Bending down, she picked it up and unfolded it, seeing her most recent headshot staring back at her.

WHAT WENT WRONG AT VIDAL RECORDS?

The cover line screamed at her with an audible banshee’s shriek. Bright red tears leaked from the glossy paper and saturated her photograph with a garish mask. She threw the cover away before the stain reached her fingers, and it floated to the floor, promptly sinking into the viscous redness that suddenly saturated the carpet.

Rivulets of crimson wept from the holes in the walls left by picture frame hangers. Horrified, she stumbled back toward the elevator, trying to evade the relentlessly creeping flow of red…

Ireland bolted upright in bed with a gasp, her heart hammering in her chest. A fine sheen of perspiration covered her skin, and she threw the covers off with a curse.

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