Page 63 of Ruthless Dream

I don’t turn my phone on until the next day, but I did see a few messages when I used my laptop for school. I ignored them all.

The next morning on the way to class, a new text comes in.

Ciaran: Good morning, princess.

I ignore the message, not liking his sarcastic tone. But I do pick up when he calls me after my last class of the day.

It’s a nice autumn day, and unknown to many, it’s an important one. Which means nothing can ruin it, not even the most handsome of Irish bastards.

“Let’s get lunch,” he says, not bothering with hello.

“I can’t.” My combat boots crunch a leaf. I hurry at a major junction, crossing the road. I’m almost to the correct destination.

A growl rattles around Ciaran’s throat. It’d be very impressive if I cared. “I put lunch on your calendar.”

“And I deleted it.”

“Adeline.”

“Hacking my calendar doesn’t mean you control it.”

“Come on, I know class is out. Let me buy you lunch.”

“At the same restaurant Jack Rollings likes to dine?” He’s got major investments in the EU.

I know because I’ve been studying. I snagged the guest list from Mom’s party, and I’ve systematically begun to go person by person, taking notes. Even the dates guests brought are being looked into.

Ciaran is quiet for a moment, and I feel the way he debates. He can either bring up yesterday and apologize or focus on work.

“Adeline, it’s part of the deal.”

Something releases in my chest. Not relief, not hope, just simple cold hard facts.

He’s got his priorities. And I’ve got mine.

I hold my chin up, dodging around pedestrians, as I speak into the phone. “True, but Ciaran, the day was already blocked off. Access to my calendar does not entitle you to rearrange shit. If you want to do lunch, send me a calendar invite like a normal fucking boyfriend.”

I end the call before he can speak again, staring up at one of the best places in the entire world—my favorite bookstore.

CHAPTER 15

Ciaran

Adeline hangs up on me, and my fingers curl around my phone, fighting the urge to throw the damn thing.

How the hell did we go from never fucking to constantly fucking for three days in a row to now arguing about. . . shit?

I fucked up by sending her that video, but I had no idea where the attitude had come from when she texted yesterday. And she caught me at a bad time, Monday afternoon.

Our meeting with Walsh wasn’t what we were hoping for. Both Uncle Cormac and I feel like there should have been more movement, but instead we got a stilted, small talk sort of conversation. Walsh and my father kept side-eyeing each other, some private conversation playing out. It put Cormac on edge, and that in turn set me on fire.

Da should be helping me, but it’s like the other week. He’s stonewalling me, and for what? He’s never been an active father, but at the very least he can try, just once, to help his own son out.

This shit with Adeline pricks into me, an added layer of dissension in all my perfectly laid plans. The message was loud and clear when she turned her phone off, as if I didn’t have other ways of tracking her movement.

I’d woken up early again today, with the idea of meeting with her before class and buying her a coffee. It’s increasingly becoming my token of affection, this simple treat that’s more sugar and milk than actual coffee content.

But Cormac had called us all in for a breakfast meeting. I didn’t have to message any of my cousins to know what sort of mood our uncle was in.