Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 100086 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 500(@200wpm)___ 400(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100086 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 500(@200wpm)___ 400(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
But he had things to take care of before he could even think about setting up a date to do Olivia justice. Their joking last night was just that—joking. He would never be that douche who took a date to some snotty, pretentious restaurant. Especially this date. She deserved a plan for something special.
But right now, his first priority had to be letting his family know where he was. It was tempting to just catch a cab home and slink up to his room while hoping no one noticed his newest fashion statement, but that was the coward’s way out—something he would have done a year ago. Now it was time to face the music and deal with the consequences. He couldn’t tell them it was Halloran men who’d attacked him, but he had to let them know he was attacked. He grabbed his phone. Here goes nothing.
Aiden picked up almost immediately. “Where are you?”
“I’m fine.”
“Since you’re calling me, I got that. So I’ll ask again—where are you? I know you’re fucking irresponsible sometimes, Cillian, but you missed a vital meeting this morning. Father’s pissed.”
He looked at the bedside clock and cursed. The Erickson meeting. He’d completely forgotten about it. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. Make sure it doesn’t happen again. I don’t care how things were when we were kids—I can’t keep covering for your ass while you’re out being a dipshit. It’s time to step up like you’ve always said you would.”
He gritted his teeth. “I understand. I need a car.” He rattled off the hotel name and street.
Aiden cursed. “Goddamn it, Cillian. I hope she was worth it. You have our father to answer to.”
It was damn near impossible to keep from snapping back, but a year ago, his brother’s assumption that he’d blown off his responsibilities to party would have been right on the money. No one seemed to have noticed that he’d changed after Devlin’s death, that he wasn’t the same asshole who put himself before anyone else. But he understood. All of his siblings were so wrapped up in their own dramas and miseries, it was a wonder they realized he wasn’t where he was supposed to be in the first place.
Their father…Time only seemed to be adding to the weight Seamus O’Malley carried—a weight Cillian had never recognized until he started carrying it himself. It didn’t make the man any less of a bastard, but there was a level of understanding that had never been there before.
He took a deep breath. “Then I’ll answer to him. Send the car.” He hung up.
After using the bathroom, he stared in the mirror. One eye was blackened and, as he suspected, the bandage wrapping his head made him look like some soap opera trauma victim. “Sexy.” It was a wonder that Olivia hadn’t shoved his ass in a car and taken him to the hospital despite his arguments.
He owed her.
Hell, more than that, he actually liked her. He wanted to know more about her—about her past and her plans for the future. It might have started out because she was so different from any woman he’d met, but that superficial attraction wore off right around the time his head hit the brick wall.
When was the last time he’d had an actual connection with a woman?
He wasn’t sure he ever had. Not really. There had been girlfriends in the past, but they were after the same thing he was—as much sex and booze and bad decisions that a person could manage on any given twenty-four-hour period. He’d always reasoned that he had to live it up because the shackle of family was going to snap around him eventually, but looking back, it was clear that he’d been running in the only way he knew how. If he drank himself stupid, he didn’t have to think about how little freedom he really had—or what he might be asked to do once he was brought fully into the fold.
Well, he was there now. As the one running the O’Malley finances, he now held secrets worth killing for, and hell if part of him didn’t enjoy it. He liked working with the numbers and manipulating them to his family’s benefit. He didn’t even really have a problem with the fact that most of it wasn’t strictly legal.
He just couldn’t forget that it was familial politics that contributed to Devlin’s death.
That was unforgivable.
The one thing he wasn’t sure he could get past. Not that he had a choice.
He washed his face off as best he could and threw on his vest and jacket without bothering with the shirt underneath. It was ruined, and the bloodstained fabric would bring more attention than skipping it altogether. Once he was more or less presentable, he headed downstairs. This early, there was no one out and about—which was the reason they’d scheduled the Erickson meeting for this time. He was going to catch hell for missing it.