Page 72 of Ireland

Blizzard’s disgruntled growl had her clawing the blankets back to unbury him. “Sorry, Bliz!”

He looked at her with flattened ears, then stood and stretched before jumping off the bed.

“Blizzard! Come back. I’m sorry!”

He sauntered out to the living room with a furiously flicking tail.

She flopped onto her back with a groan. But the spot where she’d been laying was feverishly hot and damp. She pushed the covers off again and got out of bed, looking at the AI unit on her bedside table for the time.

“Damn it! It’s not even midnight,” she complained, raking a hand through her hair.

The nightmare clung to her like a possessive lover. She grabbed her white silk kimono from her vanity stool and yanked it on, still so fucking tired and now wide awake.

She knew the dream meant nothing, even as she replayed it over and over in her mind. Christopher’s harsh words had tapped into her fear that she would be the death of the company. Maybe she’d already killed it by not asking Gideon for help. Maybe there was nothing else she could do to save it now.

Following Blizzard’s initiative, she left the bedroom and went to the kitchen, the tiles cool on the hot soles of her feet. It was inexplicable to feel a bone-deep chill while simultaneously being overheated. She poured a glass of orange juice and gulped it down.

The thought of Gideon being angry with her was stressing her out, too. In her master plan, her big brother would understand and even respect her for not involving him, but…what if he didn’t? Was he going to be furious instead? Would he view it as a rejection of him and his expertise, as Christopher did?

“Ugh.” She rolled the cool glass over her forehead. The same repetitive thoughts had driven her half-mad before she’d escaped into a fitful, exhausted sleep. When she’d left work atthe end of the day, she had briefly considered going to Parker Smith’s studio to burn off the adrenaline and anxiety with a good, aggressive sparring session. But she knew it wasn’t wise to keep pushing herself while running on lack of sleep.

Here,cher.Something so delicious you won’t let it go to waste.

Even in memory, Ronan’s alluring voice affected her. He’d startled and moved her when he came to her office with lunch from Valentin’s—a cup of gumbo and half a muffuletta sandwich. She hadn’t been paying attention to the hour, too engrossed in bank statements and outstanding invoices.

It wasn’t that Ronan was the only one to think of her. The largest bouquet she’d ever seen had been delivered shortly after her conversation with Christopher and included a note of congratulations from Gideon. Not long after, her mother had couriered over a monogrammed leather folio from Tiffany & Co., and her father had settled into one of her visitors’ chairs and slid a Montblanc pen across her desk that had her name engraved on it. Even Christopher had brought her a cup of coffee when he saw that she was struggling to keep her eyes open.

And while Ronan’s thoughtfulness, consideration, and attentiveness were unique traits in her history of boyfriends—Alina said she intimidated most guys because she was a ballsy babe with her shit together—that wasn’t what gave the Cajun the ability to slip under her defenses and beneath her skin.

No, what got to her was that he should want her to wear down. She was all that stood in the way of what he wanted. The more tired she was and the less she took care of herself, the more mistakes she would make.

He was acting against his own interests. And after too many romantic entanglements with men who had self-serving agendas, that selflessness made him something special.

She set her empty glass down on the counter, remembering how Ronan had noticed what she was reviewing when he brought her lunch and had returned a few moments later with some of the documents she hadn’t been able to locate that were in his possession.

It was the worst sort of mindfuck that the man responsible for everything going wrong in her life was also the person determined to support and care for her while she struggled through it.

A soft brush against her calves drew her attention down to Blizzard, who’d apparently decided to forgive her—or maybe she was just too pitiful. She scooped him up and draped his forelegs over her shoulder, his long feline body approaching the length of hers.

“I told you he was too good to be true,” she murmured, stroking her hand down Blizzard’s long back. “I thought maybe he was Prince Charming, but he’s actually the bad guy. So, your title of Perfect Male remains unchallenged, Bliz.”

Blizzard began purring, the soft rhythmic rumble the only sound in the otherwise quiet condo.

Ronan sat on the couch and stared at the television; his view repeatedly interrupted as Jules paced back and forth in front of him. Not that he was actually watching the disaster movie playing on the large flatscreen on the wall. He had enough disasters of his own to deal with.

“Merde, Jules! Either sit or find a woman to burn off that energy.”

Jules glared at him as he marched past. “How can you be so calm? That woman strung us along for months!”

Setting his elbow on the armrest, Ronan propped his head in his hand and yawned. “Elizabeth Vidal was never a sure thing.”

He was tired. He’d spent an hour in the hotel gym, half the time running full bore on the treadmill and the other half on the weight machines, hoping to wear himself out enough to finally sleep. But until he was certain Ireland wasn’t going to do something incredibly hardheaded, such as go back into the offices, he was keeping his eyes open. He’d asked the lobby guard at Vidal Records to notify him if she came in but had walked over around nine to check for himself—just in case.

“I don’t like being played!” Jules’s volume was nearing a yell.

“It was always a gamble,” Claudette agreed, her legs tucked at the other end of the sofa. “Which would she choose: to screw over her ex-husband or protect the careers of her children? Perhaps we thought she’d choose revenge because our parents never put us first.”

Jules snorted and paused to point his finger at her. “None of that talk. Let’s focus on getting this wrapped up before something else goes wrong. We’ll start liquidating tomorrow.”

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