Page 32 of Bound By Darkness

I freeze, my eyes snapping to the man sitting at the table.He’s older, probably in his late forties, with dark hair that’s starting to silver at the temples.His tailored suit fits perfectly, and the way he carries himself screams wealth and power.

Ruairi steps beside me, taking Saoirse from my arms.He leans in close, lowering his voice.“Please be on your best behavior,” he whispers, his tone clipped but pleading.

He presses a kiss on the baby’s temple.“This little one,” he says warmly, his tone softening in a way it rarely does.“Is my daughter, Saoirse.”

The man’s expression shifts, a genuine smile breaking across his face.“A beauty, like her mother, no doubt,” he says, nodding to Bridget, who smiles in return.

Holding Saoirse as if she’s a buffer between us all, Ruairi says, “And this is my sister, Aoife.”Ruairi shifts beside me, nodding toward the man at the table.“Aoife, this is Cian O’Leary.”

Cian stands, extending a hand toward me.“And here I thought I’d never see little Aoife Quigley all grown up,” he says smoothly, his smile polite but assessing.“It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise,” I reply, my tone cool as I take his hand briefly before sitting down.

Over the course of dinner, the conversation remains polite, almost painfully so.Cian asks about my travels, where I’ve been, and what I’ve seen.I keep my answers short but cordial, though my mind churns with fury at Ruairi.

He planned this.Springing this dinner on me without so much as a warning, and now he’s sitting there as if this is the most natural thing in the world.The heat of anger simmers under my skin.Ruairi doesn’t just want to control the Syndicate.He wants to controlme.He refuses to acknowledge that I’m not someone who needs his protection or his permission.

“I imagine you’ve had some incredible experiences,” he says, swirling his wine.

“I have,” I reply.

“Do you have a favorite destination?”he asks.

“The Maldives,” I answer quickly.

Ruairi, clearly growing impatient with the small talk, clears his throat.“Cian and I were discussing earlier how nice it would be for the two of you to get to know each other better.Maybe over dinner sometime.”

Without thinking, I blurt out, “Actually, I’m not sure how long I’ll be in town.”

The room goes quiet.

Ruairi sets down his wine with a little more force than necessary.“Excuse me?”I straighten, refusing to look away.“I said I don’t know how long I’ll be here.”

His eyes narrow.“Funny, considering we were under the impression you planned to stay.”His tone has that edge I remember too well.Disbelief wrapped in control.

“You don’t get to make that call for me,” I reply, sharper than I intended, but I don’t take it back.

Bridget’s gaze bounces between us, concern tightening her features.Cian remains silent, but I feel his eyes on me—curious, calculating.

The rest of dinner is awkward, filled with stilted conversation and forced politeness.When Cian finally excuses himself, thanking Ruairi for the invitation, I practically feel the tension in the room ease.

As soon as the door closes behind Cian, Ruairi turns to me.“Care to explain what that was about?”

“What?”I ask, feigning innocence as I start clearing the plates.

“You’ve done nothing but dodge questions about how long you’re staying since you’ve been home.Now you’re brushing off dinner like it’s nothing.”His voice is low but tight with control.“What aren’t you telling me, Aoife?”

The plate hits the table harder than I intend.“I don’t owe you an explanation.”

His jaw tightens, and he steps closer.“I’m only trying to protect you.You don’t know the players or how dangerous they can be.”

“So, it’s fine for you to dictate my future, but I can’t make my own choices?”I argue.“Is that it?I should sit quietly and let you marry me off like some business transaction?”

“Cian’s a good man,” Ruairi argues, bristling.“You’d do well to get to know him.”

“Did you bring me here to reconnect with family or to shove me into your version of what my life should look like?”

“I’m trying to look out for you,” he says, voice rising with frustration.“You’re acting like I’m the enemy for wanting you safe.”

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