“Mr. O’Mooney?” I ask, a smile involuntarily tugging at the corners of my mouth. Jesus, Erin, don’t let nerves get the better of you now!

Micheál smiles pleasantly at me and explains, “No, not Cathall. He’s not actually an expert in international business law, so he put me in touch with someone who is, and she thinks I have a good case.”

I realise how bad the situation is when the she in that sentence wounds me more than any of the other words. I can’t help wondering, in the middle of this shit storm, if she is pretty.

“Right.”

Now it’s him who’s panting. “Is that it? Right? Is that all ye’ve got to say to me?”

“What do you want?” I ask quietly.

He leans back in his seat and spreads his hands out in front of him on the breakfast bar. “I want to stay for a while and assess the business. Then, based on real earnings, ye can make me a complimentary offer. Otherwise, I can force ye to sell the bar immediately and we split the difference.”

“What? No! I can’t sell The Pot O’Gold!”

“Fine. Let me stay and keep me informed and we’ll review the situation in, let’s say, twelve weeks.”

“Three months?” I ask, incredulously. “Where will you stay?”

“Well, I see the Hilton’s not far from here, but I warn ye that my lawyer tells me that all my expenses are to be covered by the bar while I’m here, so maybe ye’d prefer a more economical option.” He looks round the apartment.

“Micheál, be reasonable. That’s a crazy idea. I mean, you can’t just land in here one Friday afternoon and park your arse in my life like that. I hardly know you. You might be a mad axe murderer or something!”

“Erin, people in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones.” He’s wagging his finger at me.

“I’m sorry, what?” I put my finger to my ear as though to hear better.

“Eh, obtaining money by false pretenses, defrauding someone, embezzlement. Grand larceny. I could go on, if ye like. They are all felonies in this country, I believe. So, maybe ye should play nice, Erin. You know, keep the country bumpkin sweet.”

How did we get here? I feel like crying. How did we get from sex on a magical island and to saving my life to threats? I barely recognise him. He obviously hates me, and frankly, I can’t really blame him.

“Fine, stay here.” I sigh, exhausted now. What else can I do? He seems to know his rights. “You can sit in the bar and watch how it runs but until I get legal advice you’re not getting access to a single receipt or bill.”

“Great!” he says jumping up and rubbing his hands together.

“Gee, I hope you’re not jet-lagged?” I say, though he doesn’t seem to hear my sarcasm. Or maybe he just chooses not to.

“Me, no. I never suffer from jet lag. Let’s get started. The sooner, the better!”

I clear up the dishes and tidy the kitchen before leading him back down to the bar. My phone pings just as I’m locking the door.

“You go on,” I say. “We’re setting up for the afterwork crowd. Barry will show you what’s what. I’ll be there in a sec.”

He nods and walks off toward the bar.

As ur lawyer I advise you NOT to speak to him about the bar or the deal. Repeat: DO NOT SPEAK TO HIM ABOUT THE DEAL!!!

“Bollox,” I mutter.

Too late…

I hit send and head into the bar after the shadow-man.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

RIDLEE

I WANTED TO GET OVER to the bar to see Erin and help her with her Michaél problem before it was too late at night, but my plans were foiled by my boss insisting that I stay and work late to help him and his team get ready for a big case that would be starting in the next week. I don’t normally work the mass tort end of things, but I was told this particular case could mean a whole new office building for us and bigger Christmas bonuses if it went well, so it’s all hands on deck, mine included.

I drag my sorry ass into my apartment after midnight, and I’m just sliding off to sleep at two in the morning when my doorbell rings and then some crazy knocking starts. It sounds like an entire flock of wood-peckers is going to town on my door.

I leap out of bed to stop the madness from waking my neighbors. I’m not surprised at all when the peephole reveals Erin with her forehead all wrinkled up and a grimace on her face. She’s using both hands to try and wake me up.

“Cool your jets, woman, I’m coming.”

“Hurry. I’m in crisis. Big, big, massive crisis mode.”

I turn the locks and pull the door in. “How’d you get into the building?”

She brushes past me and goes right for the kitchen. “Irish charm. Works every time.” Pulling open the freezer door, she hesitates only a second before she’s grabbing a half-gallon container of Ben & Jerry’s. Two spoons come out of the drawer and then she’s on the couch, waving me over. “Come on. I only have a half hour.”

“Why only a half hour?” I’m amused by her mania.

“Because,” she says with her mouth full. She hands me a spoon. “That’s how long it’ll take for the bar to be cleaned and Barry to go home.”

“Barry?”

“My new barman.”

“So what’s going on with Michaél? Is he really here or were you just yanking my chain?”

She shakes her head, clearly miserable. “No, he’s really here and I’m in deep shit.”

I dig my spoon into her ice cream and eat it slowly to avoid the pain of a brain freeze. “Tell me.”

“He just showed up!” She waves her spoon around in outrage. “Out of the blue! Just walked right into the bar, sits down, and says, ‘Hello, Erin, I’m here for my real half of the bar.’” She shakes her head and digs into the ice cream again, taking out a chunk big enough to choke a horse. She nibbles at it as she reflects on her evening. “I told him he could stay in my place, because apparently he has some bitch lawyer telling him I’ll be paying all his expenses and he threatened to check into the Hilton.”

I put my hand on her arm to stop her. “He has an attorney? A female one?”

“Yes.”

“What’s her name? Where is she based? Here or Ireland?”

“No clue. I have zero clue. He said she does international law, though. That sounded scary.”

“You need to find out who she is and where she is. Having him be there while you’re both dealing with possible future litigation … it’s not a good idea.”

She glares at me, her mouth full of melted ice cream. “Ya think?”

“Just relax…”

“Ha! Relax? That’s a good one. I knew this was going to happen.” She jabs at the ice cream like she’s trying to kill it. “I should have told him the truth right from the beginning.”

I can’t keep the sarcasm from my voice. “Oh. So, you knew that he’d hop a plane two weeks after you got back, show up at your door, and demand more money, did ya?”

Her stabbing of the ice cream slows. “Not exactly. But something like that.”

“Listen.” I touch her arm so she’ll look at me. “You did the right thing from square one. This is how business deals always work. He had all the information available to him as a matter of public record. He could have asked for your records but he didn’t. That’s his stupid problem, not yours. I don’t care what he’s saying his lawyer told him. He does not have a case.” I squeeze her arm. “Do you hear me? He doesn’t. You have nothing to worry about.”