Page 49 of Stolen Rival
“It was never a test. But you’re thirty-five and were showing no signs of settling down. I promised your father I’d watch over you if anything happened to him, and considering I won’t be here soon to carry out his wishes, this was the next best thing.”
“So, the business is mine?”
“It was always yours.” He reaches forward and pats my hand. “We’re family. But you should know that I had my lawyer add a codicil, which states if you and Sorcha divorce, or she meets an untimely death, the business will pass to Andrew.”
That puts paid to my idea to cut her loose after Dylan died. I should’ve expected he’d do something like this. Wily old bastard. Still disappointed though. Guess me and Sorcha are stuck with each other now. Till natural death do us part.
“There won’t be a divorce, or an early death.” Unless it’s mine, which isn’t out of the question.
“Good.” Another bout of coughing ensues. When it abates, his head droops to his chest. “I’m ready to go to my bed now.”
It doesn’t take long to locate his nurse. She pushes him toward the lift he had installed in his property when he fell ill. I wait until the doors close then pivot to return to his office, but on the periphery, I pause. Sorcha hid her anxiety well, but she’ll be as keen as I am to know the business is mine, if only for thoughts of her own well-being.
I almost laugh. Have I lost the plot? Telling my brothers comes first. I enter Dylan’s office and, closing the door, I put in a call to Liam.
Triumph straightens my shoulders when I declare, “It’s ours.”
Chapter 25
PATRICK
I wokeup to the news this morning that Dylan is dead. According to his nurse, he passed away peacefully in his sleep with Mairead holding his hand. I haven’t seen her yet this morning, but she must be devastated.
It’s almost as though he hung on until I fulfilled his wishes and took a wife, and as soon as he’d assessed her, and us, he felt able to go.
On my way downstairs, I hover outside Sorcha’s bedroom, my hand raised to knock. In the end, I change my mind. No one questioned my request for separate bedrooms, least of all Sorcha. I’m unsure why I haven’t fucked her yet. She’s mine. I can do as I please when I please, but something’s holding me back.
Perhaps I’m waiting forherto come tome.
I like the idea of her begging for it, although I would say we’re some way off that. It’s okay. I’m not nineteen. I’m perfectly capable of restraining myself. Besides, if the urge takes me, there’s always a hot shower and my hand.
Mairead is alone at the kitchen table warming her handsaround a mug of tea when I arrive. She looks at me, eyes swimming with tears.
“I’m so sorry, Mairead.” I move toward her, squeezing her shoulder.
She covers my hand with her own. “He’s at peace now. I think he was waiting for you, Patrick.”
I nod. “Had the same thought myself.” Pulling out a chair, I reach for the teapot and pour myself a mug. “The business will thrive under me. I guarantee I will continue his legacy.”
“I know you will.” She sips her tea, a deep sigh lifting her chest. “We’ll bury him tomorrow.”
It’s fast, but that isn’t altogether unusual in our circles. The new boss can’t properly assert his authority until the former leader is laid to rest and the will is read.
“Do you need any help?”
“No. He made the provisions before he got too sick. Andrew is taking care of the invitee list.”
I keep my expression schooled. Mairead doesn’t need to know my plans for Dylan’s underboss. The man will find out what’s in store for him soon enough.
“That’s good.”
We fall into silence, each lost in our own thoughts. Vastly different thoughts I would imagine. Mine are already running amok with plans to grow and expand what Dylan built. There will be dissenters. There always are when a death enforces a change of leadership, and I will deal with those the way my father would have. Severely.
A shuffle of feet draws my attention to the doorway. Sorcha. Her gaze swiftly moves from me to Mairead.
“I heard, Mrs. Mahoney. I’m so sorry for your loss.”
Mairead stands, opening her arms and beckoning to my wife. The two women hug as though they’d known eachother for years rather than a single day. I narrow my eyes, studying their body language. My wife does appear to have a gift of winning people over. It’s a useful asset in our line of work. Originally, I had planned to keep her as far away from my business as possible, but I may have to rethink that strategy.
