Page 81 of Ireland

“Why not go home?” she suggested. “Leave the closing to Jules and me. We aren’t at all conflicted about what needs to be done.”

“I’ve thought about that.”

She waited for him to say more, and when he didn’t, she prodded, “And…?”

“I’m still thinking about it.”

“Jules isn’t taking this well,” Claudette warned. “You’re both father and brother to him if you don’t know. Your approval is all he wants, and not knowing where your head is at has been hard for him to deal with.”

“He’s too focused on Ireland.” Ronan moved to the bed and collected his suit jacket from where he’d tossed it earlier. “The steps and goal haven’t changed; it’s just been slowed down a little.”

“Maybe there’s a little jealousy involved,” she conceded. “We’re not used to having to share you.”

As if on cue, Jules shouted from his room, and the sound of glass breaking shocked them both.

“Maudit,” she muttered, turned to face Jules’s adjoining door, which was ajar. “What now?”

Ronan shrugged into his suit jacket as he walked over to where she stood. He was eager to get to the Vidal offices. How would Ireland be with him at work? When he’d awakened her with coaxing good-bye kisses, she’d gifted him with a sleepy smile that had obliterated his plans to leave. Before he even processed what he was doing, the fly of his jeans was open, and he was between her lithe thighs, fucking his relentlessly hard dick into the tight silky depths of her exquisite pussy. She’d come apart for him, her long nails digging into his ass as she begged him for harder, deeper strokes.

Merde, he needed to stop thinking about her before his unruly cock embarrassed him.

“I can’t fucking believe this!” Jules yelled, his voice getting louder as he marched into the main living area from his bedroom, his face mottled with fury. His suit today was a bright blue, his dress shirt a lighter shade, while his tie blended the two hues with soft green arrows. He held his phone in one hand, his grip white-knuckled. “Did you tell that bitch about the Lees?”

Ronan’s features hardened. “You’ll want to rephrase that, brother.”

Jules’ jaw worked for a moment as if he had to physically restrain himself from speaking. Then he bit out his words one by one. “Did you tell Ireland Vidal about the Lees’s building?”

“Mais non. We don’t talk about work.”

“Do you talk at all?” Claudette asked sardonically.

He looked at her, unamused.

“Are you leaving your phone unlocked around her?” Jules asked crossly.

Ronan spoke calmly. “Can you just lay out what the problem is?”

“Remember that meeting Claudy and I had scheduled with the Lees this morning to wrap up the purchase of their building? They’ve informed me that they’ve accepted a better offer—including a new location for their business—from Cross Industries, and they signed the contract last night. That’s why they put us off yesterday. The Cross team was putting together the paperwork.”

Ronan went very still, his mind racing. Had he mentioned their plans to Ireland in passing? He couldn’t recall.

“Do you know how many hours Claudy and I invested to get the Lees to the finish line and for what?!” he shouted. “The Claibornes have a wire transfer ready to send us that we’ll never see now! Scarlett’s family was counting on us getting that warehouse for them! We’re losing millions on this deal, not to mention what we’ve dumped into Vidal that we knew we’d never recoup.”

“This is a disappointing development, I agree, but Cross becoming a complication is something we anticipated happening long before now.”

“Disappointing?” Jules gripped his head in both hands, melodramatic as usual. “A week ago, this news would’ve made you scarily dangerous. Now? You shrug and sayc’est la vie!Who cares that the family we’re supposed to run into the ground is costing usmillions!It doesn’t feel like we’re winning here,beau-frère. Can’t you see that?”

Ronan took a steadying breath before answering, agitation beginning to build. “I’m heading over to the offices now. I’ll talk to her.”

“Is that code for ‘I’ll fuck her and not care that she’s a treacherous cunt?’”

Lunging forward, he caught Jules by the lapel and rammed his fist into his brother’s jaw. The blow sent Jules back butRonan’s grip on his jacket kept him from falling. Then Ronan shoved him away so that he sprawled on the floor.

“Watch your mouth,” he snarled.

With a roar of fury, Jules pushed up and rushed forward to tackle him. Ronan shifted his weight, caught his brother in the stomach with his shoulder, and hurled Jules into the sofa.

“Stop it!” Claudette ordered. “We’re not turning against each other!”

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