Page 117 of Fifth Avenue Fling

“Your sleazy buddy, the mayor?” I push away from him, letting out an unattractive snort. “You told him I was his Irish present.”

“His Irish present…” he murmurs, frowning as if not understanding.

Something changes in the air as recognitionflashesacrosshisface.

“His Irish present is a bottle of Irish whiskey,” he says in a rough voice, rearing back to stare at me. “Christ, Clodagh. What kind of man do you think I am?”

“Yeah?” I shove my toiletries into my bag with force. “Well, that’s not what Mayor Perv said.”

He stiffens, every muscle going rigid. He doesn’t speak. His jaw slams shut and hardens.

“Did he touch you?” he asks in an almost too calm voice.

I jerk my head in a no. “I didn’t let him. I ran off.”

He nods. “Stay here,” he says in a low voice, his eyes locking with mine. “Don’t leave your studio until I come back.”

“I’m going to Queens.”

“Please, Clodagh. Please.”

He says it with the same air of authority I’m used to hearing in his voice. But his eyes are different this time. I see something I haven’t seen before.

Maybe fear?

Anxiety?

Pain?

“Fine,” I say quietly with a sigh.

I watch as he turns his back on me and strides out of the studio, slamming the door.

I exhale heavily and collapse onto the sofa.

What the hell is going to happen?

I can’t keep the door closed. I have to know what’s going on.

With shaky legs, I walk through the studio door and up the stairs, hovering out of sight on the top stair.

They’re still in the lounge. Their voices are hard to distinguish in the burst of noise. A male tells someone to calm down.

“Get the fuck out of my house.” It’s Killian. His voice isn’t raised; it’s cold as ice. “If you ever so much as lay eyes on any of my female staff again, I’ll kill you.”

“This is absurd. Your deal is dead in the water, Quinn. You’ll regret this!” The mayor storms out of the lounge area into the hallway, face twisted in rage and breathing hard.

I almost have to laugh as he rummages through all the coats, searching for his own, muttering relentlessly. “You forget who I am, you arrogant fuck.”

I crouch down on the stairs so I don’t have to see the cretin.

The hallway is a flurry of activity as people hurriedly put on their jackets, almost tripping over each other to make their way out.

Why is everyone leaving?

Everyone, of course, except for Maria, who stands with Killian in the hallway.

For a moment, neither of them speaks, unaware of me hiding on the stairs. Killian stands with his hands on his hips, facing away from me and staring at the ground.

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