Page 13 of Fifth Avenue Fling

I’m irrationally jealous for a fleeting second as he puts his hand on her lower back and leads her toward the entrance.

Then, unease grows in the pit of my stomach.

I’ve seen those eyes before.

Was that… Killian fucking Quinn?

FOUR

Killian

With a heavy exhale, I push open the door to my boardroom.

“Mr. Quinn.” Alfred Marek leaps up from his seat, narrowly missing spilling his water. “I’m glad we can sort this out face-to-face.”

Thirty minutes ago, I saw him at reception when I returned from lunch with Maria.

Paunchy short guy. Light-blue eyes, not dissimilar to mine. Something the Polish and Irish have in common. He’s the type of guy who wears a suit regardless of whether he works in a coal mine or an office.

With steel in his eyes, he holds out his hand for me to shake. I might have been fooled if I didn’t feel his clammy palm.

He’s flanked by two guys, one of who must be his son. The son, who looks mid-thirties like me, has his jaw set tight, ready for a fight the old-fashioned way.

“Call me Killian.” I remove my hand from his grasp.

Marek looks relieved. “Alfred.” The older man smiles at me. “And this is my son, Alfred Jr.”

Alfred Jr. mumbles a greeting.

Marek nods to the third guy farthest from me. “This is my lawyer, Mike Dempsey.”

Dempsey looks like someone they found from the local phone book, operating out of a car wash in Brooklyn.

I take my place at the head of the boardroom table and gesture for them to sit. “I trust my team has introduced themselves.” Sitting opposite the Marek family is Sarah, a senior lawyer, and a guy who looks fresh out of college.

“They have indeed,” Alfred Sr. says as the Mareks simultaneously sit. “I’ll admit, Killian, I’m surprised you agreed to the meeting. You’re a busy man. I’m sure we can come to a resolution, like adults, so we don’t take up too much of your time.”

I relax into my leather chair, nodding in agreement.“You have my full attention.”

He takes a sip of his water, then clears his throat. “Mr. Quinn… Killian.”Hislipscurlintoa tense smile as he knots his fingers on the table.“Do you know the history of our restaurant?”

I offer a friendly smile. “I assume you’re going to enlighten me.”

“I don’t know how well you know our area in Brooklyn. Come out and visit us at the restaurant. You’ll get to see the wonderful, proud Polish community…”

I try not to lose patience but find my attention drifting out the window as he speaks. He’s doing himself no favors by giving me a history lesson about Brooklyn.

“So you see, the restaurant is where our community comes together. My father handed it over to me, and I ran it forfiftyyearsto pass it down to my son and daughter.” He briefly looks with pride at his son before redirecting his attention back to me. “I want you to reconsider the development, Killian. Son. Think about—”

“Mr. Marek,” Sarah cuts in briskly. “Our contract has already been communicated to your lawyer.”

I lean back in my seat, letting out a frustrated grunt as I exhale. We should be finishing up the small details of this project by now.

“Please,” Alfred’s voice booms, but he fails to hide the slight rattle. “I’m talking business owner to business owner. Father to father. You have children too. Someday you’ll want to pass your business to them.” He pauses. “Her.”

He’s done his research. Except handing over my business would require my beautiful daughter Teagan to say something other than “I hate you” to me. Anything beyond that seems like a pipe dream these days.

“I’m sorry, Alfred. This isn’t personal, but the development is going ahead. It’s already underway.”

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