Page 73 of Ireland

“Not yet,” Ronan said.

“Pardon?”

“A few extra days won’t hurt us. It’ll get done.”

Jules stared at him with a hard expression. “You’re holding off for her.”

Ronan stared at the television. “If you’re referring to Ireland Vidal, then?—”

“Who else?Mon dieu, you piss me off!”

“Ireland is going through the finances now. It won’t be long before she understands the hopelessness of the situation.”

“And then what?” Jules threw up his hands. “She’ll forgive you and spread her legs again? Is that the new plan?”

“Don’t be ugly, Jules,” Claudette scolded.

“Désolébut we’ve spent years working toward this moment, and now that we’re finally here, he won’t act. He’s paralyzed by lust and can’t see straight.”

“Will you shut up about that already?!” Ronan barked. “I’m sick of hearing you complain about Ireland.”

“Beau-frère, I haven’t begun to complain.” Jules’s tone took on a dangerous edge. “This is no longer just about you. I went to goddamned law school to further this goal. Claudette became a fucking accountant!”

“And I will be forever grateful to you both. I couldn’t have gotten here without you, and I never forget it. I never will.”

Jules’s wide, sensual mouth compressed into an obstinate line. “We committedour livesto getting you this revenge, and I won’t let you jeopardize everything because you’re thinking with your dick!”

“That’s enough!” Ronan slashed his hand through the air. “You came along for the ride because you get off on tearing things down. We’re finally at the part you enjoy, and you’ll have your kill. We can give Ireland a little time to reach her own conclusions, that’s all.”

“She and her brother were always going to be collateral damage,” Jules argued. “That was never a problem for you before you met her.”

“What do you want me to say? That I like her? That I regret having to hurt her? Both are true. She can’t stop what’s coming. Give her time to make peace with it.”

“But why? What does it matter? We could be home with the Vidals buried and left behind us. If they hate us afterward, it means nothing.” Jules’s gaze narrowed with incisive consideration. “Or are you hoping for more time with the daughter of the man you’re destroying?”

“It is rather romantic, isn’t it?” Claudette smiled. “Like the Montagues and Capulets.”

“Oh, please. Ronan can’t lose Scarlett over a woman he has no possible future with. Ireland Vidal is not leaving this place, and our dear brother gets thefrissonshere! And that’s the least of their problems.”

Ronan’s phone lit up where it lay on the coffee table, and Ireland’s photo filled the screen. Scrambling for it, he answered. “Oui, cher.”

“You’re the reason I can’t sleep,” she accused in that voice he loved. Assertive yet smooth, with the softest of rasps, it was as sexy as the rest of her. “You’ve given me carte blanche with your body. It damn well better make my insomnia worthwhile.”

He was on his feet and moving. “I’m on my way. Give the doorman my name.”

“Which one?” she asked caustically.

“Whichever you prefer. See you soon.” He hung up and shoved the phone into his back pocket.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Jules yelled. “She calls, and you go running? We’re in the middle of a conversation!”

Ronan went to his room, shoved a string of condoms into his front pocket, and slid his feet into loafers. Then he headed toward the exit. “Don’t wait up.”

“Pour l’amour de dieu!” Jules called after him gripping his head in both hands. “C’est fou, gros bête!”

The door swung slowly closed, and Jules stared at it in utter amazement. He turned to his sister. “Can you believe this? I don’t recognize him.”

Claudette eyed the door thoughtfully. “Perhaps a night with her will do him good. Their liaison on Monday was too short to satisfy theenviehe has. He’s too noble sometimes, and that little chivalrous streak won’t allow him to admit he’s using the woman for revenge.”

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