Page 125 of Fifth Avenue Fling

That’s why I’m sitting in the boardroom surrounded by my business partners discussing the stalled Brooklyn casino disaster when I can only think about Clodagh.

Images run through my head. The most random, unhelpful shit.

Clodagh in her black dress at Teagan’s birthday. Clodagh in her yoga pants. Clodagh scolding me for being grouchy. Clodagh’s studio covered in wood. Clodagh realizing she’s eating balls of butter. I smile.

“Killian?” JP’s voice booms from the other end of the table, snapping me back to reality. “You know what needs to be done to get this moving. There needs to be some serious groveling on your part.”

Fuck’s sake. He’s right. There’s only one way to fix it. The mayor metaphorically has me by the balls and is squeezing tight.

“Like hell I do,” I sneer. I’ll be damned if I’m going to grovel to that smarmy jackass.

JP’s dark eyes blaze with anger as he exhales. “You’re allowing emotions to interfere with your business decisions. It needs to be fixed.”

Anger flares in my chest, aimed at JP, the mayor, myself. I can’t decide who I’m madder at.

“This has nothing to do with emotions,” I snap. “This is about that idiot disrespecting my staff. In my own house, I might add.”

“Look, just because you’re losing your mind over your nanny in some ridiculous midlife crisis doesn’t mean you can drag the business down with you.”

Well, that confirms it, then. I must be as obvious as those old men who come into my hotel bar with much younger women draped over them.

“This isn’t just about you, Killian,” he continues, sounding tired. “We all have a vested interest in this casino.” He turns to Connor. “Help your brother see reason, will you?”

Our standoff is interrupted by a heavy knock on the door.

Marcus appears at the doorway. “Killian, I need to talk to you. I’ve been trying to get ahold of you all day.”

Now this is a guy who has been through multiple midlife crises.

I beckon him inside, glad for the distraction from the conversation about failed casinos. “Go ahead. What is it?”

He looks from me to Connor and JP, debating whether to speak in front of them.

“Out with it,” I say impatiently.

“We did a police check on Clodagh. There are two different police forces in Ireland, the Northern Irish police and the Republic of Ireland police.”

“I’m aware of that, Marcus.” I sigh. Where is this going? Is everyone determined to piss me off today in this office? “I don’t need a geography lesson. Get to the point.”

“I screwed up. We marked the vetting process as done once the Irish Republic police force returned their response. The Northern Irish police sent theirs in afterward.” He hands me his laptop, looking like he’s about to wet himself with fear.

“You need to see this.”

For a moment, I fail to understand what he’s talking about until it hits me like a ton of bricks.

“We’ll revoke her visa immediately,” Marcus says quickly. “She never disclosed it at the time. I’m sorry, Killian. I’ll have a replacement ASAP.”

Connor and JP stare at me with wide eyes.

My nostrils flare as I read through the report. “No. I’ll deal with it.”

***

“Clodagh?” I shout, striding through the house. My gaze stops at the doorway of Teagan’s room, where Clodagh is tidying up and bobbing her head in time with her headphones.

I tap her on the back, and she screams and jumps. “You startled me. What are you doing home so early?”

My angry expression wipes the smile off her face.

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