Page 146 of His Reluctant Bride

Niamh smiles but covers it with her hand.

"Maybe that's what you want," he says.

"To burn it all down like your father did."

I see Lena tense, see her fingers twitch toward her phone.

She's waiting for the signal, ready to jump in if it goes too far.

I push my chair back.

"You don't get to talk about my father."

He stands.

"Someone has to. You're about to ruin everything he built."

There's a moment, a single heartbeat, where I want to drop the act.

To tell them all it's a game, a show for the enemies outside the window.

But I see the way the guards watch me, the way Lena's face has gone white, the way Niamh has set her pastry down to savor the moment.

I raise my voice.

"If you don't like it, you can leave."

He stares at me, jaw working.

"Maybe I will."

I shrug.

"You never could stick around when things got hard."

He laughs, ugly.

"Fuck you."

I smile, showing teeth.

"Not anymore."

He grabs his coat, turns to the room.

"Anyone who wants to work for a madwoman, stay. The rest of you, call me in Wicklow. I'll be setting up a real crew."

He stalks out, boots echoing on the tile.

The doors swing shut behind him, rattling the glass in their frames.

For a long minute, no one moves.

The only sound is the drip of coffee off the edge of the table.

Lena is first to speak.

"Should I…?"