Page 102 of Broken Lies
“Go to hell, Kieran.” She turns on her heels and storms back up the stairs.
I’m too damn furious to even take note of the way her perfect ass sways with each step.
The elevator suddenly pings open, and I spin around, my pulse still hammering in my ears, to find Ronan standing just inside the entryway.
He raises his brow at me. “Bad time?”
“Jesus,” I drag a hand over my face. “Have you ever heard of knocking?”
“You have an elevator as a front door, so no.”
“What do you want?”
“A drink would be nice.”
I glower at my brother before stalking over to the small bar cart I keep in the lounge, tucked away next to the couch. It’s not nearly as well stocked as the one in my bunker, as my brothers refer to it, but right now, I don’t care about vintage. I just want something to take the edge off my temper.
After pouring two glasses of whiskey, I hand one to Ronan and settle myself down on the couch.
I swear I catch a waft of Riley’s perfume in the air, and I bristle.
Ronan takes a seat on the opposite couch. “Trouble in paradise?”
“If this is a social call, save it. I’m not in the mood,” I take a long swig of my drink.
Ronan studies me for a beat before answering. “It’s not. Ciara’s been put on bed rest for the remainder of her pregnancy.”
“Shit, is she okay?”
“It’s just a precaution. Having twins automatically puts her at a higher risk, and she was showing signs of high blood pressure.” Ronan’s brow furrows, and I catch his mask slipping.
The strain and worry are written in the lines on his face, and a phantom weight rests on his shoulders as they slump forward.
“What can I do?”
“I need to be home more, starting immediately. It stresses Ciara out too much when I’m out on business, and right now, that could be harmful to her and the babies.”
“Again, what can I do, Ronan?”
“I need you to take on more responsibility for the next few weeks. Handle the day-to-day logistics, managing any fallout from the O’Keefe hit attempt, that sort of thing.”
I finish off my drink and set down the empty glass on the coffee table, feeling my pulse steady.
“Fine. Whatever you need.”
Ronan nods before exhaling deeply as he looks down at his drink. The tension fails to fade from Ronan’s face.
I frown. “Was there something else?”
“I’m not used to having so much to lose.” He swirls the whiskey around in his glass.
“I feel like I should take offense to that.”
Ronan huffs a laugh. “You know what I mean. Suddenly, the stakes just seem so much higher.”
“Do you ever think Dad felt like that, about us?”
Ronan frowns for a moment. “Honestly, if he did, he was damn good at not showing it. You know what he was like. I swear I can count on one hand how many times I saw the guy smile.”
