Page 106 of Ireland

“That’s Ireland,” Eva murmured. “Ooooh, good hit.”

Gideon’s initial curiosity was now laser-focused interest as he watched his sister put Ronan McCaffrey Boudreaux through his paces at Parker Smith’s studio. The person who filmed the short video was positioned behind his sister, so Ireland’s face was seen only occasionally in profile. But he knew how she moved her body, just as Eva did.

When Boudreaux caught his sister in an aggressive, possessive kiss that she not only didn’t reject but participated in, Gideon felt an alarming chill settle over him.

“My wife sent me that this morning,” Raúl explained. “It was posted last night. Apparently, it’s romantic to watch a woman kick a man’s ass and then get kissed senseless.”

“Holy shit, it’s got over a quarter million views already!” Eva exclaimed, drawing Gideon’s attention to the rapidly increasing likes count.

Gently urging his wife up from his lap, Gideon stood. His earlier soul-deep fatigue was now replaced by restless energy. He started walking toward the front door.

“Are you going over there?” Eva asked, running up beside him.

He couldn’t decide whether he wanted Boudreaux to be at his sister’s. He wanted a face-to-face but also knew what it meant if the man was there this early in the day.

“Send me a link to that video,” he barked over his shoulder at Raúl. “And find out where he’s staying.”It had better not be with Ireland…

He’d initially planned to advise Christopher on what could be done to secure control of Vidal—and provide capital, if necessary. The situation was now drastically different.

Boudreaux should’ve limited his scope to just the company. But he’d involved Ireland.

So now the man would be dealing with him.

Ireland jolted when her leg vibrated yet again, her phone ringing silently in the thigh holster she wore beneath her formal gown. She’d turned the ringer off but couldn’t turn the phone itself off because she was emceeing the bachelor auction. She needed to know and be prepared if something changed at the last minute.

Reaching into the thigh-high slit of her blue ombre dress, she pulled her phone out, saw Gideon’s face on the screen, and sighed. She sent the call to voicemail and texted instead, as she’d been doing all day.

I’m about to walk on stage

She slid the phone back into place. The thigh holster was meant to be worn athletically, like when running in shorts without pockets, but she’d discovered it worked great for formal events, too. And with a bracelet that hid a lip gloss wand, she could go hands-free at events and not bother with coordinating tiny purses with her dress.

“I can’t believe you’ve gone all day without answering him.” Alina fidgeted while looking stunning in a strapless diaphanous peach dress with petal-like embellishments that fluttered every time she moved. Her rose gold mask had peach-colored feathers and ribbons on one side. “It’s giving me anxiety.”

“Hello? My brother and I are in the same damn ballroom together now! It’s not that I don’t want to talk to him, just that I’d rather do it in person.”

So, she’d been answering his calls with texts. Which she could tell was pissing Gideon off by his tone—at least what tone she could gather from letters strung together into words. Her brother never resorted to using exclamation points to convey his mood, which somehow made his short commands to pick up and answer his callseven more worrying. She hadn’t listened to his voicemails because she was edgy enough already.

Ireland smoothed the front of her silk dress with trembling hands. It was strange how strung out she felt, as if her body was overcaffeinated—or slipping into a state of withdrawal. She realized that this was the longest stretch of time she’d gone without seeing Ronan since they’d met.

How long would it take to feel normal again? To not feel like something vital was missing?

“Why aren’t you nervous?” Alina asked. “I just have to escort the guys on and off, and my palms are sweaty, and I have heart palpitations.”

“When have I ever been nervous onstage? I could run this auction in my sleep now.” It was actually a lot of fun and her favorite part of the Crossroads Foundation’s annual masquerade ball. “And you look blissfully calm when you glide across the stage.”

Peeking through a gap in the stage curtain, she surveyed the Bellingham Hotel’s massive ballroom. The guests were a who’s who of Manhattan society, along with political figures, celebrities, and other billionaires like her brother.

It was great having the event as a distraction, but she dreaded the weekend ahead. She needed to stay too busy to think about Ronan and where he might be, what he might be doing, and who he might be doing it with. She’d made the rightdecision for herself but had no idea what the impact would be for Vidal.

Was he still willing to let her try to save the company? Was he still planning on helping her do it? If so, perhaps they could design a schedule where she’d be out of the office on the days he commuted, at least until she got over her attraction to him and could be around him without becoming desperate toalwaysbe with him.

Or maybe he’d only considered saving Vidal if they were sleeping together, and that offer was no longer on the table. She sighed. Not that it mattered now that Gideon knew. She hoped to convince her brother to let her do what she could without intervention, but she doubted either of her brothers believed she could turn Vidal around with just guts and determination. At least her dad had given her a shot.

She could really use one of Ronan’s hugs right now, not to mention his affirmations that she was fierce, fabulous, dangerous, and powerful. Was she still a tigress when she wasn’t his?

“You’re thinking about him,” Alina noted, studying her. “Ronan, I mean. I can tell because you get this lost, sad look on your face.”

Giving her best friend a skeptical look, Ireland pointed out the obvious. “I’m wearing a mask.”

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