Page 5 of Sins of the Father

Our eyes lock, a current passes between us. I release her hand and step back.

"Monday, eight o'clock. Don't be late."

As she leaves, I plan a deeper background check before Monday. Orla Kelly fits the role too perfectly, and perfect makes me suspicious. I want to know what game she’s playing—and why she chose the Kavanagh’s.

If she threatens my family, she'll learn why our name strikes fear through Boston.

CHAPTER 3

ORLA

Iarrive at Kavanagh Import & Export at seven forty-five. The security guard checks my newly issued ID badge before waving me through.

"The executive floor is restricted access," he says, handing me a temporary keycard. "This will get you to the twelfth floor until Mr. Kavanagh's assistant programs your permanent credentials."

I accept the card with a polite smile. "Thanks. That would be me. I'm his new assistant."

He looks at me again. "Right. Good luck, Ms. Kelly."

The elevator requires both the keycard and a numeric code. I memorize the four digits as the guard punches them in. Every tiny piece of information is important.

Cillian Kavanagh's office occupies the corner section of the twelfth floor. Floor-to-ceiling windows that showcase Boston Harbor on one side, downtown skyline on the other. It’s impressive, if obnoxious wealth is your thing.

"Ms. Kelly." Cillian appears in his doorway. Today's suit is navy, his tie crisp. "Come in. We'll get started."

Mahogany desk. Leather chairs. Abstract art that costs more than my apartment. It reeks of money, and the blood spilled to get it.

"My schedule for today," he says, handing me a tablet. "Your desk is outside. Computer access is set up with basic permissions. Julie from IT will expand those as needed."

I scan over the schedule. "I see you have an eight-thirty meeting with Shipping Operations. Would you like coffee before they arrive?"

"Black, no sugar." He watches me. "You'll find the kitchen down the hall. Badge access. Mugs are in the cabinet above the machine."

I nod and turn to leave when an older woman enters without knocking. Blonde, elegant, wearing designer clothes. Her eyes—the same blue as Cillian's—judging me in one sweep.

Cillian stands immediately. "Mother. I didn't expect you this morning."

Mother. Niamh Kavanagh. I keep a straight face while noting details. Diamond wedding ring. Emerald on right hand. Chanel perfume. A woman who understands power.

"Can't a mother surprise her son?" She smiles with cold eyes. "Aren't you going to introduce us?"

"Orla Kelly, my new assistant," Cillian says. "Orla, my mother, Niamh Kavanagh."

I extend my hand. "A pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Kavanagh. Hopefully you’ll last longer than the last one."

Her handshake is firm. "How long have you worked in executive support, Ms. Kelly?"

"Four years," I reply. "Most recently at Beacon Financial."

"Hmm." She turns to Cillian. "Your father expects you to join us for dinner on Sunday. We’re starting early, three o'clock."

"I have plans—" he begins.

"Cancel them." She leaves no room for argument. "Bring Ms. Kelly as well. She should meet the family if she's managing your schedule."

My pulse jumps. The Kavanagh family home. Access I hadn't expected so soon.

"That won't be necessary," Cillian says.

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