Page 40 of Dirty Eoin

“Excuse me. I have to take this.”

“Leo.” She walks to the window, speaking in rapid-fire Italian. It’s his native tongue, but it won’t be for that reason. It’s so the rest of us won’t know what’s being said. She won’t be discussing anything confidential. She’s not naïve. She’ll be aware that all conversations that take place in this room are recorded. It doesn’t go unnoticed by the rest of us, however, that Luc’s name gets mentioned on more than one occasion.

“Ciao. Ciao, Leo.”

I want to know what they were talking about, but that will have to wait. That’s not what today is for. It’s my guess today is about something far more important.

Jaine remains standing, deep in thought, her gaze fixed out the window.

She finally turns, making eye contact with Sarah once more. Cillian side glances at his wife. I’m not sure how happy he is now he realizes she’s in on the act and that she’s kept a secret from him. From the entire family.

A big one.

Jaine takes her seat beside Aidan, her gaze now fixed on me. She’ll get straight to the point like she always does.

“As you all know, Padraig and I dated briefly when we were nineteen. We kept in touch but then reconnected in person a little over two years ago when we were taken by the Russians, along with Ace.”

She pauses briefly. Her face is void of emotion, but everyone sitting here is aware its grief related. She tilts her chin in preparation for what she’s about to reveal before continuing.

“That reconnection resulted in my eldest son. Finian Fergal Jeremiah O’Connell Steele.”

Cue the mic drop.

Jaine nods at her partner in crime, and in response, all of our phones vibrate simultaneously. I unlock mine immediately. It’s a message from Sarah. A picture. I open it and find myself looking at a little boy with hair as black as coal contrasted by the pale skin of the Irish and with sparkling blue eyes and a cheeky smile identical to his da’s. He’s holding a soft toy in his hand, his exposed chubby arm displaying the O’Connell horseshoe birthmark.

Padraig has a son.

My ma and da’s first-born grandchild and a male Duster heir.

I can’t speak at first. I’m not sure what I expected, but it wasn’t this.

Envy suddenly courses through my veins. That she’s carried my brother’s offspring when it should have been mine.

I shouldn’t be thinking that way when I’m about to wed someone else, but I can’t fucking stop myself.

“You kept him from us!” I hiss at her.

She frowns momentarily, my adverse reaction clearly not what she expected. She doesn’t need to know it’s fueled by my spiraling jealousy.

She stares at me. “You as good as ran me out of town, or have you forgotten? You threatened to have me exterminated if I didn’t do as you asked. Stay away from my brother, you said. For two years, you said. I was simply doing as I was told.”

She speaks matter-of-factly, but I can tell my outburst has infuriated her. I’m sure she already feels victimized. As a result, she’s now struggling to control her own rage.

“That’s no excuse. You should have informed us the moment Finian was born.” I stand and push my chair back.

So this is the secret she’s been hiding all this time. From my family. From my brother.

From me.

She also stands, resting her hands flat on the table with one eyebrow raised. “Nothing would have been gained by my doing so. On the contrary, Padraig would have signed his own death warrant by insisting that we marry, and you know it.”

“You could have told me!”

She snorts, her anger finally surfacing. “Why the fuck would I tellyouanything, Eoin? In fact, why the fuck would I tell your family anything? Separating Irish and me was a combined Duster decision, after all.It was nothing personal, Jaine.” She mimics me.

“THE CHILD IS AN O’CONNELL,” I roar.

She stares at me. Time passes before she speaks, and when she does, she’s managed to rein herself in.

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