I made money for Royal Pipelines as the head of PR and marketing. I liked working with people, charming my way into their good graces. I channeled my extrovert personality for a good cause. I made serious dough, and I actually took the company in the direction I wanted it to go: greener. More environmentally friendly. True, Greenpeace wasn’t going to hit us up for drinks anytime soon, but thanks to my future projects, Royal Pipelines was no longer the ocean’s villain.
The first thing I did was stop the drilling in the Alaskan Arctic. Cillian spun it publicly that the high cost of the drilling wasn’t worth the amount of oil we’d found. It was bullshit, but it soothed his precious pride. We were no longer fucking with the world’s natural air conditioner and killing all the fishies.
Not to mention, I had friends now. With pulses and everything. The real deal.
True, I didn’t love them like brothers the way I did Knight and Vaughn, but for that, I actually had a brother.
“Hunter!” Da’s voice boomed from the other side of the floor. He was just getting out of the elevator, pacing toward his office. “A word, son.”
I made a U-turn and walked toward him. We met inside his office. He closed the door (the new one, which didn’t take a fucking century to close), because now, we met all the time to talk about everything, without Cillian as a buffer.
“What’s up?” I leaned my shoulder against a glass wall, tucking my hands into my suit pockets. He rounded his desk and sat behind it, smoothing his tie.
“What did she say?” He scrunched his eyebrows.
His firstborn was as far from marriage as The Joker was from sanity, and Aisling was still young. I was his best bet for grandchildren.
“Who?” I feigned confusion.
“I’m too old for these charades. What did Sailor say?” His eyes narrowed.
“She needs more time.”
I scanned him coolly for his reaction. His face fell before he schooled it, offering me a what-can-you-do huff. He tried so hard to keep a poker face, but the fact he reached for his handkerchief and dabbed his forehead gave away his despair.
“Buy her a bigger ring. That’ll do the trick.”
“Not with Sailor.” I shook my head, still eyeing him.
He groaned, rubbing his temple. “Probably. She’s a toughie.”
“I’m tougher.” I grinned, pulling out my hand and showing him my ring finger. “I won’t keep you and Mom waiting for long. I want to put this shit on lock as fast as I can, before she realizes she can do much better.”
Da looked up from his seat, shaking his head, and whispered, “No, she can’t.”
I believed him—not that it was true about Sailor and me, but that he meant it.
“I love you, ceann beag. More than this kingdom.” Da smirked, slow and deliberate, trying not to burst with pride.
I grinned back, fingering the Dala horse on my neck. Sailor had given it back to me the day she’d moved back in. It was no longer colorless, though. She’d painted it orange—like her hair.
“I love you, old sport. More than pu—”
“No.”
“Puppies! Chill.”
I turned around and made my way to my office, laughing.
I totally meant pussy.
The End