Page 46 of Irish Betrayal

“I’m sure Blair will be thrilled to see you and overlook our little bit of subterfuge,” Katy said unconvincingly while wringing her hands.

William snorted into his bourbon.

Daniel leaned back in his chair, restless energy humming beneath his skin.

Three months.

Three months since Blair had disappeared from Dublin the morning after they’d finally crossed the line between friendship and something far more complex.

Three months since she'd ripped his heart out; three months since he'd slept through the night, since food had tasted of anything, since whiskey had brought him ease, and since his soul had known peace.

No calls and only brief texts. Nothing beyond brief, clinical responses in the group chat that proved she was alive and little else.

It had hollowed him out in ways he didn’t particularly enjoy examining.

And now she was about ready to walk through that door.

Daniel rotated the whiskey glass slowly in his hand. “You’re absolutely certain she doesn’t know I’m here?”

Katy looked delighted by the question. “Positive.”

“That hardly seems fair,” he muttered. “This might be a mistake. Unfair.”

“But if she knew you were here,” Rowan said calmly, “would she have come?”

The brutal accuracy of that landed squarely in his chest.

Daniel stared out through the towering glass windows into the darkness beyond the property.

“She’s frightened of something. There have been a few times over the past two years that I felt like she was keeping secrets,” he said quietly.

The room fell silent for a beat.

Rowan exchanged a glance with Ulf.

William set his drink down carefully. “You think it’s more than the two of you having a falling out? That maybe this Irish professor is holding something over her head?”

Daniel laughed once without humor. “I wish I knew. Blair doesn’t run. Not from confrontation and not from me.” His jaw tightened. “At least…she never did before.”

And that was what had been niggling in the back of his brain since she left.

Not the silence.

Not even the rejection.

Fear. Fear that he had missed something vital.

Every ignored call, every clipped response, every time she asked her friends not to visit pointed toward something deeper than regret over their relationship.

Something had happened.

Before anyone could respond, headlights swept across the glass walls of the house.

Daniel’s body went rigid instantly. Katy, damn her, visibly perked up, probably still imagining some grand reunion between him and Blair.

His pulse began hammering hard enough to make him vaguely irritated with himself.

Outside, a dusty Jeep rolled to a stop near the front walk.