Page 117 of The Bossy One

“Then what’s in it for me?” Mark’s eyes darted back and forth between me and Seamus like a cornered rat.

God, he was pathetic.

I couldn’t believe he’d convinced so many people to fear him for so long.

“Your dignity and your family legacy,” Seamus said. He leaned forward. “In one version, you retire magnanimously. Declan’s agreed that the mansion will go to my oldest child when he or she turns eighteen.”

That particular deal point had been surprisingly easy for me and Seamus to agree on, once I’d decided not to level the mansion. It should obviously go to Catie.

“You’d have to have a child first,” Mark grumbled, but I could tell he was listening. He probably had visions of molding and shaping some future heir.

As if Sinead would ever let him get away with that.

Now that Seamus had played the angel offering a way out, it was time for me to play the devil.

I speared Mark with a glance. “Of course, in the other version, I destroy the mansion. The rubble heap becomes a very public monument to the worst defeat of your life. And then I will proceed to drive you out of business, one property at a time.” I grinned like a shark. “That’s my favorite option personally, but Seamus insisted you’d see reason and choose the other plan.”

Mark shifted. “I’ll need time to think about it.”

I gritted my teeth. That wasn’t what I wanted to hear. But this mattered enough to do it right. I opened my mouth, prepared to give Mark till the end of the day to think it over.

But Seamus surprised me.

“No. You won’t,” Seamus announced, sounding genuinely imposing for the first time in his life. He stood and presented his father with a contract Thomas had drawn up last night. “You’ll sign here right now, to pass the company over to me. Or we’ll leave this meeting, and I’ll tell everyone you chose to turn our home into rubble instead of accepting Declan’s generous offer.”

I bit back a smile. The kid had finally grown up.

I glanced down at my watch, feigning boredom. “You’ve got sixty seconds to think it over. After that, I call the bulldozers.”

Mark blustered and shouted for approximately 59 seconds, but Seamus didn’t flinch. And at last the second, Mark caved and signed the papers. He held the pen so tightly his knuckles were turning white, the point slashing his signature over the dotted line with the violence of a knife slash.

And, just like that, it was done.

Seamus and I strode outside onto the sidewalk with a signed contract that would make life better for everyone in town.

I glanced at Seamus. “You did good in there.”

“I imagined what Sinead would say,” Seamus admitted, somewhat bashfully.

I laughed.

I turned to him and held out my hand. “Let me know if you need business advice. I can help you find a middle ground between Mark’s predatory practices and your…” I tried to think of a generous way to sayyour terrible but well-intentioned business decisions.

“My previous choices?” Seamus suggested.

“Sure. That.” We shook.

As I walked away, I felt the familiar buzz of victory. But this time, the victory wasn’t tinged with dread of what other people would think. It felt clean. Right.

Like something Da would have approved of.

* * *

Five days later, Sinead finally came home. I’d never forget Catie’s joy when she saw her mum at the airport for as long as I live, or the way Sinead clutched Catie close and wept, murmuring, “I’m here, baby, I’m here.”

Instead of driving back to my house, we stopped in Galway to meet my mum for lunch. Afterward, we all went for a walk along the water. Catie was up ahead with her grandma, but she kept peeking back to stare at Sinead, a giant smile on her face.

I cleared my throat. “I set up a bank account in Catie’s name and put some money in it for you both.”

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