Page 90 of Killian

“That’s sweet.” I laugh.

“I just want Killian to feel welcome. And the only time we have something other than Italian is when we convince the guys to get us Mexican food. I’m excited for the change-up.”

“That’s very sweet. Thank you.”

“If only she knew the meaning behind Irish stew,” I say under my breath.

“Don’t ruin it,a ghrá.”

“Me? Never!” I smile.

A knockat my office door has me looking up.

“Come in,” I say to Conor. “Shut the door behind you.”

He does as asked before striding across the room.

“You wanted to see me?”

“Take a seat.” I nod at the chair in front of my desk as I take a seat. “How are you feeling?”

“You mean after your little psycho went rogue and drugged me?” he deadpans.

“Technically, one of her brother’s men drugged you, not her,” I point out.

“She shot you.”

“Which was planned.” I watch as he looks away, clenching his jaw. “Do we have an issue?”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks quietly.

I’m quiet for a moment, choosing my words carefully. “It’s not that I didn’t trust you, Conor. But in order for it to play out the way we needed it to, you had to have a genuine reaction. He was watching you as much as he was watching her. Otherwise, he could have known it was fake and gotten away.”

“She shot you. Effortlessly. Without flinching.”

“You can think it was easy for her, but I can assure you, it wasn’t. You didn’t see her make herself sick at the thought of it when we planned it. You didn’t see her afterward.”

“So what now?”

I lean back in my chair and study him. “We good?”

“We’re good,” he promises.

“Well, now I’m going out of town for a week. I need to take care of some business in Ireland. Then I will come back, and it will be business as usual.”

“Back to bashing in heads and owning the streets.” He smirks. “What about your girl? She sticking around this time?”

“She is.”

“Well then, I’ll need to make sure I call ahead from now on,” he says, making us both laugh.

“Sounds good. Now get out of here,” I say, standing. I round my desk, stopping at his side. “I’ll see you in a week.” I hold out my hand.

“See you then,” he says, slapping his hand in mine, shaking it.

I follow him out of the office toward the front door.

“Hey,” Greer calls out, making us stop. “How are you feeling, Conor?” she asks as she approaches.

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