Page 6 of Illicit Heir

She glares at me. "Ya know that's not an option. And ya shouldn't be defying him the way ya do!"

"You're my mum. Ya should understand why I don't want to marry that thug."

"He'll protect ya," she states again.

I shake my head. "There's no protecting me from anyone except him. He's not a good person."

"He's the head of the clan. You'll have things. Things I never had and could never give ya," she states.

"I don't care about material possessions," I claim and yank the broom from her hand. "And I don't want to be in his world."

"Well, ya are in his world, whether ya like it or not. And ya need to be smart. You're a woman," she asserts.

I scrub my hand over my face in frustration. I'll never win with Mum. She's too engrained in how things have always been. So, I give up arguing and order, "Go home, Mum. We'll clean this place up."

She argues, "I can't leave it like this."

"We've got this, Ruby," Emily declares.

"Yea, take the rest of the night off," Alison chimes in.

"Ditto," Jessica chirps.

Mum hesitates, the weary lines on her face deepening. She pins her gaze on me one last time.

"Go." I nudge her with my elbow, wondering how many hours she's spent over the years dealing with barfights that left everything she owns in pieces.

She finally caves and pulls her bag and coat out of the cabinet. She puts her coat on, and Ronin walks her to her car.

It takes hours to clean the pub. I send Ronin home, and we're about to turn the lights off when there's a knock on the door.

Emily opens it, announcing, "Sorry. We're closed."

A deep voice sends zings down my spine. "But we've traveled so far."

"Far? Where ya from?" Alison questions, stepping next to Emily.

"Cork."

"Well, that is far south. What made ya come this way?" Emily asks and opens the door wider, but I still can't see who she's speaking to.

"We're on a lads' weekend. But we heard about The Confessional, so we had to come pay our respects."

"Well, sorry, we're closed," I interject. I step forward and freeze.

A gorgeous man with a chiseled jaw, dimples, and chestnut hair stares at me. He has a powerful, arrogant expression that is somehow different but also the same as Caleb's. I can't put my finger on why, but I'm sure of it.

He studies me and whines, "Aw, lass, you're going to deny us when we've come this far? Surely ya can let us have one drink?"

My pulse skyrockets as his eyes drift over my body, lingering until he once again pins them back on my face.

He glances behind me, questioning, "Why is the pub empty? I would think you'd be full-on tonight."

"We just cleaned up after a fight," Jessica tells him.

His eyes narrow. "Fight? Ya got some trouble in here we can help ya sort out?" He scans the room.

I stand taller. "No. We have everything under control."

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