Page 94 of Bound By Darkness

Eamon

The restaurant is silent.Not the comfortable kind that settles over an upscale place like this after a lull in conversation.No, this is the brittle, stunned silence that follows violence where it doesn’t belong.

Jerry Callahan groans as he’s dragged toward the exit, his nose a mess of blood, his pride shattered right along with it.My men flank him, shoving past stunned patrons, muttering apologies to no one in particular.

I exhale slowly, rolling my shoulders back, ignoring the weight of a hundred eyes on me.It wasn’t my most subtle move, but I regret nothing.

I’m about to walk out when a familiar figure strolls back into the dining room.

Cian.

His gaze sweeps the restaurant, then locks onto his table, where he finds an empty chair.His smile fades.

He turns, eyes narrowing as he approaches me."Where is she?"

Taking my time adjusting my cuff, I finally ask, "Who?"

His expression twists with irritation."Aoife.Where the fuck is she?"

I finally look at him, letting a slow, mocking grin curve my lips."Do you mean the girl from the front desk?Yourdate?Shouldn’t you know where she went?"

Cian exhales sharply, his patience obviously fraying.“Cut the shit, O’Sullivan.”He lowers his voice just enough to keep the conversation between us.“You’re too smart to not know that she’stheAoife Quigley.”

I don’t blink, playing at indifference.

Cian studies me, eyes narrowing before he presses on.“You’re in a war with her brother, and now you’ve got her working for you?That’s a bold fucking move.”His voice drops even lower.“If you know what’s good for you, you’ll fire her.Tell her to pack her shit and send her back home where she belongs.”

A veiled threat.A demand wrapped in concern.

I let the silence stretch between us, watching as he waits for my reaction, smug in the belief that he’s just given me valuable information.He handed me her identity like a fool.Either he's sloppy or he’s testing me.

Then I step in closer, lowering my voice."Is that a threat?"

He still wears a smug expression, but there’s tension beneath it now."Just some friendly advice.You’re smart, O’Sullivan.You don’t want to make an even bigger enemy of the Quigleys."

"And you don’t want to make an enemy ofme."

His jaw twitches.But I don’t give him the chance to respond.Instead, I turn and walk out of the restaurant.

By the time I step into the penthouse, I’m ready to put this entire night behind me.Except the second the door closes, I realize I’ve walked straight into a storm.Aoife’s waiting for me, arms crossed, eyes blazing with fury.

"You started a fight over a man hitting on me?"she snaps."Are you serious?"

I shrug off my jacket, keeping my movements slow and measured."He deserved it."

Her laugh is sharp, incredulous."I can take care of myself, Eamon."

I turn to her, my temper flaring despite myself."And you’re going to tell me this is how youtake careof yourself?"My gaze drags over her."Walking into that room dressed like this.Making sure every bastard in there was looking at you like you were theirs to take?"

She doesn’t flinch.Doesn’t back down.Instead, she takes a step toward me, her chin tilted up, her eyes dark and playful."You’re the one who told me to have dinner with him," she reminds me, her voice slow, deliberate."I figured I’d play the part."

She takes another step closer, slow and predatory, forcing me to hold my ground.Then, she leans in, her mouth just shy of my jaw."Cian put his hands on me, you know.Dragged his fingers dangerously high."Her voice is barely above a whisper, enough to set my blood on fire."And he wanted me to spend the night with him."

Red-hot rage explodes in my chest, sharp and unrelenting.

I grip her wrist, yanking her flush against me, my voice a low growl against her ear."I don’t give a fuck what information Cian has."I pull back just enough to meet her eyes, making sure she understands me."That was the last fucking time he, or anyone else, touches what’s mine."

I don’t give her time to speak, to argue, to push me further.I crush my mouth to hers, swallowing the sound she makes—a gasp, a curse, a challenge.Maybe all three.Her nails rake down my chest, not in protest but in provocation, and it only fuels the fire already roaring through me.

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