Fifth Avenue Fling: A Grumpy Boss Romantic Comedy (Billionaires In Charge)
Fifth Avenue Fling: Chapter 30

Now I understand what “rose-tinted glasses” are. I’ve seen New York a hundred times from a helicopter, but not through Clodagh’s eyes. Her squeals of delight were so distracting I worried we were going to careen into one of the skyscrapers.

It was the most excited I’ve seen anyone since Teagan met the pop star runt.

I look forward to making more items on her bucket list happen. I want her to have all the experiences she’s dreamed of. And I’d like to be there to see at least some of them. Except for the Sex and the City tour.

“What are you smiling about?” Connor interrupts my thoughts.

I snap my eyes from the skyscrapers outside the boardroom window to Connor and raise a brow. I’m now back in the office for a late afternoon meeting. “Am I not allowed to smile?”

“It’s a little weird when we’re discussing the mayor filing a lawsuit against you for an alleged physical altercation. Especially when you’re doing the smiling, Killian.”

I roll my eyes in disgust. “It was a gentle scuffle. I’ve seen worse at a Red Sox game.”

“Yeah, well, he’s pissed, and he wants to have something over you,” JP grates over the video link. “And our application fee to the state is in danger of going from one mil to two because of this.”

“He can go to h—” The shrill tone of my phone cuts through my chest like a knife. Jesus Christ.

Code red. It’s the sound I only expect to hear during a drill test.

I snatch my phone up from the table as Connor looks at me, alarmed. “Yes?” I ask sharply.

“Sir,” Angus, one of the security team, says on the other side of the line. “An intruder attempted to break into the property. The police have been informed. He tried to tailgate behind Clodagh.”

I instantly freeze. “Is she okay?”

“Yes, sir. She took a tumble down the steps, but she’s fine. Her wrist is swollen, so we’re on our way to the hospital to check if it’s broken or sprained. The property has been checked and remains secure. It’s fine.”

“It’s not fucking fine!” I roar. This can’t be fucking happening again. “Where is she?”

“Mount Sinai hospital on 5th, sir. She didn’t want to go, but we insisted. She kept talking about a magic, hmm, some magic show she wants to go to this evening.”

“Magic Mike.” I heave a sigh of relief. If she’s arguing with the security team about what’s next on her bucket list, she can’t be severely hurt.

“Who’s the guy?” I ask in a lower, calmer tone. “What was he after?”

I’ve had a few nutcases attempt to break into my townhouse over the years.

“The guy’s name is Alfred Marek. Sam said he was linked to the family causing trouble with your casino in Brooklyn.”

Every hair on my body stands on end, and I’m on my feet in an instant.

“Killian?” Connor asks, worry lines creasing his brow.

“A guy in his twenties?” I bark into the phone.

“That’s correct, sir.”

My jaw clenches in anger. “Where is Marek now?”

“He’s with the police being questioned. It’s doubtful we’ll get anything to stick. We got there before anything could escalate.”

“See you at the hospital. Make sure Clodagh has people with her until I’m there.”

I buzz Mandy on the intercom, my heart pounding in my chest. “Mandy, have a car waiting downstairs. I’m going to the hospital.”

I don’t even stop to acknowledge Connor and JP. Standing up, I stride out the door, the smile well and truly wiped from my face.

***

I hear her before I see her. My stride quickens. She’s laughing. Her distinct Irish lilt provides a welcome respite from the suffocating dread that had built up within me on the way to the hospital. It echoes down the hospital hallway, leading me to the room where Clodagh is.

Clodagh is perched on top of the bed when I walk into the room, legs swaying back and forth over the side. Sam and Angus lean against the wall, chatting with her.

They immediately stiffen when they see me. I give the guys a nod of acknowledgment and turn to Clodagh.

“Are you okay?” My voice comes out hoarse.

“Yeah,” she says breezily. “Private healthcare is sick, as Teagan would say. That means good. I feel like I’m in a spa here. You know, even the colonics on those posters out there look appealing. I might add one to my bucket list.” She leans back in the bed. “Oh, by the way, did you know we’re in the plastic surgery ward? That’s why all the patients are so good-looking.”

“Really?” I mumble with a small smile, standing awkwardly in the hallway.

A lump lodges in my throat as I struggle to keep a tight rein on my emotions. I’m afraid if I step any closer, I won’t keep them in check. She has no idea what’s going on in my head. “I let you down again. I failed to keep you safe.”

“What? No! This one’s on me.” She stops swinging her legs and looks at me a bit sheepishly. “Sorry, Killian.”

I frown, taken aback. “What the hell are you apologizing for?”

“I lied when I said no more guys were going to kidnap me.” She winces. “I attract cray-cray,” she says in a weird high-pitched voice.

I have no idea what that means. “What?”

“Crazy.” She rolls her eyes, smirking at me. “I forget you’re an old guy sometimes. Teagan taught me it.”

I give her a small smile in return.

Her brows scrunch together in confusion as she studies me. “What’s wrong? Are you mad? Did I breach some security rules or something?”

I pinch the bridge of my nose and almost laugh bitterly at her question. She’s asking if I’m mad at her? Her wrist is bruised and swollen, and it’s my fault; she was lucky nothing worse happened to her. I’m the worst thing that could have happened to her.

“No, Clodagh. Of course, I’m not mad.” I take a step closer to her. I want to take her in my arms and kiss her. “This is a direct result of living with me. This is all my fault for putting you in this situation.”

“Nah.” She shakes her head. “You didn’t. He asked me out a few weeks ago, and when I stopped talking to him, he didn’t take it well.”

“Wait, what?” My eyes widen. Son of a bitch. “He was the guy messaging you? The one you mentioned at Teagan’s birthday?”

“Yeah. I was gonna meet him until…” Her cheeks flush as her gaze travels over to the security guys trying to pretend they aren’t eavesdropping. Except for Connor, no one knows about us, and Teagan only has a vague idea.

She turns back to me, looking pensive. “He was on the street when I came back this afternoon. Just waiting around. You should have seen his face when the security squad came out of nowhere. It was like a Bond movie.”

I take a deep breath, my mind racing with questions. What was the fucker planning? “The guys said you tumbled down the steps.”

“I’m not sure who to blame for that. I might have fallen backward myself.”

I’m silent for a minute, studying her.

“It seems he was tailing you. The team explained to me on the way here. He knew you worked for me and lived here.” I feel sick saying it out loud. “He was using you to gain access to the property.”

Her mouth forms a little O, and the light in her eyes fades slightly.

Her phone beeps beside her on the bed. “Ugh,” she mutters, reading the text message. “I told Orla, and Orla, the snitch, told my mum. Now Granny Deirdre is blowing up the family group chat.”

She holds up her phone so I can see it.

“Read it out to me,” I say quietly, too uneasy to focus on the screen.

“She says New York is full of hoodlums, and my life is in danger. She wants me to take the first plane back home,” she recites while rolling her eyes. “This is all Orla’s fault.”

I stare at her. “Right.”

“Jeez, you’re grumpy,” she mumbles under her breath. “You were fun on the helicopter.”

A doctor appears in the doorway. As soon as he sees me, he does a double take. “Mr. Quinn.” He glances back and forth between Clodagh and me. “I’m here to talk to Clodagh.”

I nod and gesture for him to come in.

He moves forward, smiling. “X-ray looks good. You have some deep bruising but no sprain. Take it easy on your wrist for the next week or so.”

Grinning, Clodagh pumps the air with her uninjured hand. “Does that mean I get to go?”

“You can indeed.”

“Awesome.” She hops off the bed. “Teagan will be home from school soon. I need to make dinner. I hope you’re not expecting a gourmet feast from a one-handed chef.”

My stomach clenches as I watch her. “You’re not cooking. I’ll cook.”

“Shut up.” She laughs. “That I have to see.”

My jaw locks tight. She’s so carefree, so oblivious to how differently this could have gone. The naivety of someone who has never experienced deep tragedy. A crushing guilt descends upon me like a physical presence in the room.

“Boss,” Sam says from behind me. “Sorry, we shouldn’t have called a code red. It wasn’t this time.”

This time.

I failed her again.

This ends now. I know what I have to do, even if it means shattering my heart in the process.