I reached up to touch his face. “Thank you.”

  This time, when Declan leaned down to kiss me, I ignored everything but him, and kissed him back.

  31

  DECLAN

  I yawned and sat down at my desk with a mug of tea, content to be back home. After a few more meetings, and a half day of sightseeing with Olivia and Catie, we’d flown home late last night. I’d decided Orel wasn’t a good fit for acquisition at this time, but I was still happy with the trip.

  Catie had loved the adventure. And I’d fixed what was wrong between me and Olivia. I’d sit through any amount of boring meetings for results like that.

  I was whistling ABBA to myself when my cell buzzed with an incoming call from Thomas.

  “What’s up?”

  “He’s selling it. O’Rourke is selling his fucking mansion,” Thomas blurted.

  My eyebrows shot up. Thomas hardly ever swore. But if there was ever a moment that justified it, this felt like it. Hell, I wanted to commission some fireworks to blast in the sky saying, “Fuck Yes.”

  My heart thudded. Now that the moment was here, I couldn’t quite believe it was true. “I thought he still had one more property he was going to try to sell? How’d you block that?”

  “Lots of bureaucracy, sweet-talking, and favors. Also, I owe someone a hand-knit sweater. You don’t want to know,” he said. “The point is, we stalled the sale long enough, and it got us the end result that we wanted. Mark O’Rourke put the mansion on the market ten minutes ago. Your shell company is set up and ready to go. This is really it. It’s happening.”

  “That’s grand, Thomas. Fucking grand.” I leaned back in the chair, letting the news finally sink in.

  We’d done it. I’d done it. The revenge I’d fantasized about for fourteen years was finally coming to pass.

  “I wanted to confirm you still want to buy and to get your budget before I move forward with the next steps,” Thomas said.

  Olivia won’t be happy. I shoved the thought aside. This was one area of my life where Olivia didn’t get a say. It would have felt like a spineless betrayal of my da to let his killer off the hook, just so I could avoid a difficult conversation with a woman.

  I forced myself to ignore the uneasy feeling in my chest.

  “Do it,” I ordered. “Whatever the cost. There is no budget—spend whatever you have to to lock him in and outbid any competition. But use the shell company. He won’t sell to me.”

  “Got it.” There was silence on the other end of the line while Thomas scribbled down notes. “You know, sometimes it helps loosen up a buyer if you can make them certain promises about what the space will be used for.”

  My grin had a hard, cynical edge. “Don’t make any promises. But imply it’s being purchased on behalf of a flighty rich American who loves The Deer and the Warrior, who will probably tire of it and put it back on the market in a few years.”

  “Leaving the possibility on the table that he can snap it back up when the family finances are in better straits,” Thomas finished. “Got it. Keep the hints vague and let Mark’s imagination fill in the rest. Just out of curiosity, what are you actually going to do with the mansion? You’ve been chasing it so hard, I know you must have a plan for it.”

  I was about to answer, when I thought of all the other people in Ballybeith Thomas did business with. A few of them might be upset when I razed the mansion. The mansion was linked to the festival, which brought in the tourists who filled the coffers for plenty of local businesses. They couldn’t see that O’Rourke was a cancer in our town, and this was the only way to keep him in check.

  I didn’t want to put Thomas in a difficult place with any of his other clients down the road. So all I said was, “Don’t worry about that for now. I’ll loop you in once the sale has gone through.”

  We chatted for a bit, and then I ended the call so I could plug in my headphones and hop on another video call with Anil.

  He looked disgruntled when he logged on.

  “What’s wrong with you?” I asked.

  “A good morning to you too,” he said sarcastically. “I think my date last night stole my credit card.”

  I winced. “What do you mean, you think?”

  “I can’t actually remember how many credit cards I have.” He groaned and ran a hand through his hair. “I have to start dating better women.”

  “Or take a break from dating,” I suggested. “Sometimes the right woman just comes into your life.”

  He gave me an intrigued look. “That sounds surprisingly optimistic, coming from you. Are things going that well with Olivia?”

  I avoided that conversation by clicking into our company calendar. “I’m thinking of working in Dublin for most of next week, given everything on the schedule.”

  “Agreed. Especially if we might acquire Orel,” Anil said. “You’re welcome to my guest room, if you want to stay up here for the week while we hash things out. It’ll save you the bother of having to deal with a hotel.”

  I shook my head. “I don’t think we should make an offer on Orel. They’re good people, and there is a lot that’s intriguing about their product. But there’s too many sloppy elements in their business model that would become huge issues when we plugged them into Snug and scaled up.” I sighed. “I’ll send you the files so you can make your own decision, but I don’t think it’s a good fit.”

  “Nah, I trust you,” Anil said. “Although if we pass, Grayson Frost is going to be unbearably smug at the next tech conference.”

  I snorted. “We can’t make business decisions based on avoiding things that will make Grayson smug.” Grayson was competitive, with the brain to back it up. He won in business more often than anyone else I knew.

  “Shoot! My credit card company is calling,” Anil said.

  I signaled that he should take it, and we ended the call.

  I took off my headphones and jumped when Olivia cleared her throat.

  “How long have you been there?” I asked, trying to remember what I’d said when Anil had teased me about her.

  “Just a few minutes.” She shifted on her feet, nervously awkward. “I, uh, wanted to pick a time when you could help me film my sponsorship video?”

  I grinned, glad she was really doing this. “Absolutely. We should do it during daylight, so you can have natural lighting. Either that, or I could hire a camera crew from Dublin to come out here…”

  “Natural light is fine,” she interrupted. “When’s the next slot you’d have time during daylight?”

  I opened my calendar and winced. We might not be acquiring Orel, but my schedule was still plenty packed. I didn’t want to pick a fifteen-minute window when I’d have to rush Olivia. I wanted to be able to give her all the time and focus she deserved.

  We could do it over the weekend, but unfortunately, the weather was supposed to be absolute shit.

  “So you’re not buying Orel? I thought you liked them,” Olivia said.

  “I do,” I said. “But they’re too messy right now.”

  “Then why not work with them to improve?” Olivia asked. “Why walk away from everything just because it’s not perfect?”

  There was something in her voice that made it sound like she was talking about more than a potential business deal for Snug.

  I turned my chair around to face her. “There’s a world full of potential business partners out there. It’s better in the long run to wait until you find the right one, rather than wasting resources on a company that’s the wrong fit.”

  “Oh.” She crossed her arms and looked down at her feet.

  Understanding dawned. “Is this about the company that offered to publish your book? Because if there’s something you don’t like about them, I can help you and Molly break the contract and look for another publisher. You don’t have to settle.”

  She shook her head. “No, it’s not about that. I was just curious about how you think. How you decide what’s worth investing your time in.”

  “Ah. Well. I’m an open book. Any time you want business advice…”

  “I know who to come to.” She smiled, but there was something uncertain at the edges that I didn’t like to see. “So what day should we film the sponsorship video?”

  I scratched the back of my neck. “Is nine days from now too late? If it is, I can cancel—”

  “Nine days from now is fine,” she said. “Thanks. I should go. I think I hear Catie calling me.”

  I frowned. I didn’t hear anything.

  Then again, I’d probably ruined my ears long ago listening to headphones at full volume.

  Olivia left.

  I returned to my work, trying to shake off the feeling that I’d missed something important.

  32

  OLIVIA

  “Thanks for watching Catie,” I said when Marie showed up to whisk Catie away for an afternoon of treats at Grandma’s.

  “Of course. Declan said you needed his help with a work thing,” Marie said.

  I felt myself blushing. “It’s not really a work thing. I mean, it could be. It’s a trial video for a blog sponsorship.”

  “Ah,” Marie said, understanding dawning. “Like those makeup tutorials on the internet.”

  “Sort of,” I said. “Except, um, mine’s a book review blog.”

  It was the first time I’d said that out loud. But if I went through with the sponsorship, and I put my face all over my blog, the carefully built wall between my online life and my real one would go up in smoke. I might as well start getting used to that now.

  I waited for the earth to open and swallow me whole, but it was…fine. If anything, it felt good to take credit for something I’d worked so hard on.

  Then Marie’s eyes widened. “Wait—don’t tell me you’re the one Declan’s always on about. The one who put him on to all of Catie’s favorite books?”

  Now my cheeks were really burning. “That’s me.”

  “And here I thought you met on a plane.” Marie shook her head. “Sons. They never tell their mums anything.”

  Not wanting to explain that can of worms, I called for Catie and helped get her ready to head out the door.

  After Catie and Marie had left, I finally admitted I couldn’t put recording this video off any longer. When Declan had said he wouldn’t have any time to help me for over a week, I’d thought it was a blessing since I hadn’t felt ready yet.

  Now I wondered if putting it off so long had been a mistake. I’d built it into this huge thing in my head. What if my voice sounded weird? What if everyone made fun of my outfit? What if I mispronounced the author’s name? What if the camera broke, and we couldn’t do the video in time, and the publishing company decided they didn’t want to do a partnership with me after all?

  I blew out a breath. “Just do it,” I ordered myself.

  I jogged up the steps to the second floor and retrieved the book from my room. Then I went to go find Declan, but he wasn’t in his office. I wandered the mansion looking for him until I found him setting up a camera in a small room on the first floor I’d never noticed. It had large windows that looked out over the side of the house.

  “I thought we were going to do it outside?” I said.

  “I checked with one of our photographers on staff,” Declan said, fussing with the camera perched somewhat precariously on a tripod. “We want natural light, but we don’t want you in direct sunlight. Can you sit in that chair?”

  He pointed to a small green armchair facing the camera.

  I settled in, suddenly very aware of my elbows and knees. What did Declan see when he pointed that camera at me?

  “Is that what you’re wearing?” he asked.

  I looked down at my buttery yellow T-shirt. “You don’t like it?”

  “I love everything you wear,” Declan said, and there was enough warmth in his eyes I knew he wasn’t lying. “But the staff photographer said yellow can wash out people with fairer skin tones.”

  He stated the words precisely, like he’d memorized the photographer’s exact instructions.

  I felt a spurt of guilt. He’d put so much effort into this, and here I was dreading it.

  “Yellow is friendly and will pop against the chair,” I said. “Besides, I don’t need to look like a model.”

  “Sure.” Declan nodded. He fiddled with the camera again. “Okay. Go.”

  I blinked. “We’re starting?” I yelped. “I’m not ready!”

  Declan laughed and turned off the camera. “It’s fine. Take a deep breath. Do you want to do a practice run before we record?”

  “Yes,” I said gratefully.

  But the practice run didn’t go very well. Declan kept making me hold the book at different angles until he found one where viewers would easily be able to see it while I was reading. I felt my arm cramping as I tried to maintain the awkward angle. I stumbled over the sentences as I tried to read them upside down and at an angle.

  “That’s grand,” Declan said encouragingly. “Let’s try recording one, yeah?”

  I didn’t want to. I wasn’t ready. But I made myself nod and flip back to the beginning of the book.

  I started to read the book. “Once upon a time—”

  “Do you think you should introduce yourself?” Declan interrupted. “Maybe the title of the book too?”

  I smacked myself in the forehead. “Sorry.”

  “It’s fine.” His smile was so warm and confident, it made me feel like even more of an inept fraud. “Let’s go again.”

  Declan hit record.

  I fumbled through an introduction. Then I started reading. The words felt stiff and awkward on my tongue. At first I thought it was my fault. Around our fourth take, I started to realize the problem wasn’t me. At least not entirely.

  This was a bad book.

  The writing was clunky. The plot about a pig who made friends with a squirrel was boring. And the Grown-ups always know best moral of the story felt frustratingly dated. Convincing kids to blindly trust every adult they met was dumb advice. This was the kind of book I normally mocked on my blog. And now I would be getting paid to recommend it.

  I thought of what Declan had said about choosing business partners. How it was better to choose someone perfect than invest time and energy in someone who wasn’t.

  I stumbled over a word. “Shoot. Should we go back to the beginning?”

  Declan grimaced. “Let’s keep going. We can edit something together if we don’t end up getting a perfect take.”

  There was that word again. Perfect.

  I wondered if he wanted perfection in his romantic relationships too. Maybe one of the reasons he didn’t feel the need to resolve any of our big tension points was because it wasn’t an efficient use of his time.

  Why try to fix it, if we were already too imperfect, too messy?

  The fears built and swirled together until everything felt tense. My breathing was too shallow. Declan might have been standing only a few feet away, but when he was on the other side of that camera, the distance between us felt vast.

  “We’re still filming,” Declan reminded me. “You can start reading again whenever you want.”

  “No,” I said. “Turn it off.”

  “Olivia, relax. We have plenty of time to get this—”

  “I said turn it off,” I ordered, standing.

  Declan paused the recording, looking wary. “Do you want a break?”

  “No! I don’t want to do this. I hate being in front of a camera. And this book is bad.” I shook it at him for emphasis. “My blog makes me happy. I don’t want to ruin that just for money.”

  Declan stepped out from behind that damned camera. He crossed the room to me and cupped my face. “Breathe, a ghrá.”

  I inhaled deeply, then blew it out. It helped some.

  “The book you’re writing, it’s about advice your mum gave you, right?” Declan prompted.

  I nodded.

  “What advice would your mum give you right now?”

  Any calm I’d gained vanished. “I don’t know.” I stepped back from Declan and ran a hand through my hair, frustrated. “None of her advice had to do with anonymous blogs, or becoming an influencer, or dating a career-obsessed billionaire.”

  I waited for Declan to snap at me and deny he was career obsessed. It would be almost a relief to fight. All the tension building in my body needed somewhere to go.

  Instead, he met my eyes and slowly, deliberately, laced his fingers through mine. “Come on. Let’s get some fresh air.”

  I grumbled, but let him lead me through the house and out into the garden. A light breeze brushed against my skin, and I could smell the sweet, delicate scent of flowers blooming. We wandered through the overgrown garden paths until my shoulders relaxed.

  “Fine,” I admitted grudgingly. The corner of my mouth quirked up. “Maybe I needed a break.”

  “You don’t say,” Declan teased. Then his voice quieted, and he squeezed my hand. “I know it’s hard on you that your mum isn’t here. It’s hard for me that I can’t go to my da for advice, too. But when I think back on the years I had with him…I remember some specific things he said, yes, but mostly I remember how proud he was of the person I was growing to be. How confident he seemed that I was going to be able to do anything I set my mind to. Maybe, when the person you go to for advice isn’t there anymore, you have to trust that they helped turn you into the best version of yourself—one who’s equipped to handle whatever surprises life throws your way. And then you start listening to your own gut.”

  The words hit uncomfortably close to home. The problem was, when it came to Declan, my gut was saying two different things.

  Part of me was saying, I want to stay in Ireland with Declan after this job ends. But another part was saying, This thing with Declan is far too fragile. I can’t count on it.

  “That’s pretty good advice,” I said. “But it’s not always so easy to put into practice.”

  He stopped walking and turned to face me, gently tilting up my chin so he could see my face. “What’s the real problem, Olivia?”