Page 13 of The Apprentice
Aodhan sent me a grin. “I’m making tea. I spent a few years in Scotland, you remember, and I took a shine to the UK’s English breakfast tea. It’s a shame you don’t own a kettle. I liked that fancy little device, too.”
“You can buy them here.” I ran a hand over the back of my neck and sighed. “I’m serious, though. You need to tell me why you’re here.”
He turned toward me and leaned his ass against the counter. The smug smile curling his lips gave me a bad feeling, I knew my brother too well. Nothing stopped him from doing what he wanted, not even me begging him not to do something he would regret. “I was bored.”
“You were bored?” I stared incredulously at him. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
He laughed. “You know the rules of your master. No swearing.”
I glared. “Fuck off with your smart-ass comments.”
He shrugged and grabbed his mug from the counter. Taking a sip, he moaned in appreciation. “There’s nothing better than good tea.” His gaze turned wicked. “Except good sex. Are you still fucking Killough’s nephew?”
I shook my head, refusing to give him an answer. I’d made the mistake of telling Aodhan about what happened between Fionn and me all those years ago, and now I regretted opening my mouth. Aodhan made sure to bring it up every chance he got, and it constantly reminded me of how different we were, even though we looked so alike. My brother enjoyed the thrill of danger and fucked everyone in his path. He lived for the risk, while I had to be the perfect rule follower for our parents.
A whine came from my left, and I glanced toward the laundry room door. My two Dobermans walked out lazily, ears floppy and movements languid. Sinead—all black with a couple patches of brown—bowed the front half of her body in a stretch, yawning wide, while her sister, Oona—who had more brown than Sinead—tilted her head in confusion, looking between Aodhan and me.
“What kind of guard dogs are you?” I asked.
Aodhan snorted. “Don’t be too hard on them. They came to check out who I was, but these girls love me, don’t they?” He crouched, and the dogs rushed over to him for ear scratches and pets.
I rolled my eyes but kept my mouth shut. It made sense that the dogs liked him because everyone else did. Well, nearly everyone else. Sloan hated Aodhan’s guts, and he had a perfectly good reason for it, too. But, Aodhan had always been a shit stirrer, and if he could get one over on Sloan, he would.
I rose to my feet and smoothed my hands down my suit jacket. “If he decides to kill you, I’m not saving your ass this time.”
“Don’t need you to,” he said with a shrug as he rose to grab his cup of tea again.
“Do I want to know how you got past my security system?”
“There’s no security in the world that can stop me. You know that.” He winked.
I did, unfortunately. That was what made him a perfect hit man, and his skills had taken him across the globe. The Society, a secret organization of assassins and hit men, wanted him in their ranks, but he’d brushed off multiple offers. He might even give Ardan Murphy a run for his money if it came down to it.
“Lock the door when you leave,” I said nonchalantly as I slid the Glock into the holster in my jacket. I grabbed my keys from the counter that separated the kitchen from the open-plan living room and gave him a single-finger wave before I left out the front door and went to the elevator. There were twenty-five floors in the condo building, and I had the penthouse, giving me the perfect bird’s-eye view of New York City. Buying the place had been expensive but worth it. I was in Manhattan, and anything I needed was minutes away... except Fionn.
Growling at the thought, I smashed the button in the elevator that took me to the garage, and once the doors opened, I stalkedout and headed toward my motorcycle. Sleek, sporty, and pure black like the rest of my aesthetic, my bike was a Ducati Diavel 1260, and it was one of my most beloved possessions. I bought it four years ago, and the bike was the one thing I’d done for myself that my parents wouldn’t support. It was sadly amusing that I relied on their approval, while Aodhan went about his day doing all the things they hated without a hint of criticism.
I grabbed my helmet off the bike and shoved it onto my head before hitting the ignition. The bike rumbled to life, and the vibrations moved deep into my soul, giving me a moment’s peace. The feel of the Ducati between my legs was a luxury that I relished. When I needed time to think, I got on my motorcycle and took a long ride until my head was clear.
Fionn was one of the reasons I often took a drive, and now I would spend another day with him, convincing myself that I felt nothing for the young boss to be, even though we shared our bodies with each other.
I shook my head and drove out of the underground parking garage.
The drive through the city was long and tedious, but having a Ducati meant I was able to weave around traffic in a way a car couldn’t. I took to the highway until I reached Sloan’s mansion in Southampton at 7:50 a.m.
By the time I’d taken off my helmet, laid it on the bike seat, and arrived at the steps, the front door opened. Mr. Hopper, Sloan’s loyal butler, appeared. Wearing a black suit, he stood tall and imposing with a hard stare. He had gray hair swept back off his forehead and a permanent sneer twisted his thin mouth.
“Mr. Hopper.” I greeted him with a sharp nod. “I’m here to pick up Fionn.”
Mr. Hopper’s gaze narrowed on me and he huffed, turning on his heel and leaving the door open. I followed him and stoppedright inside the grand foyer, which sparkled under the wide chandelier that hung from the high ceiling.
Fionn walked down the left side of the double staircase, his black shoes dark against the white marble, although, they matched the handrails. Even though I’d only seen him last night, I couldn’t help but inhale sharply at the sight of him in an impeccable suit, designed to fit his slim swimmer’s build with perfection. He was tall, and from this angle, he reminded me a lot of Sloan. The natural brown hair he’d finally ceased to dye was the same color as Sloan’s when he didn’t bleach it. There’d been a period when Fionn had tried to be like his uncle.
“You’re on time as usual,” Fionn said, lips pursed. He narrowed his hazel eyes.
“I did say we were leaving at eight.”
“Always punctual. A good soldier.” The sarcastic tone in Fionn’s words had me tensing. He was known for his insults, but he’d never aimed them at me—another reason people suspected we were fucking. I escaped his poisonous tongue.
