"Are you nervous?" Auden asked as they sat in the back seat of their rideshare, heading to Charles's annual holiday party.

Cillian shook his head. "Not at all."

Liar. His fingers drummed against her bare thigh, betraying his nerves.

Auden turned from the window to study him. He was dressed sharply—dark slacks, a light blue button-down tucked in neatly, the top two buttons undone to reveal a hint of his collarbone. A long black coat shielded him from the biting Dublin air. His hair was freshly cut, no longer falling over his forehead to obscure his eyes.

He was staring out the window, chewing on the nail of his free hand. Auden sighed, slipping her fingers between his and giving a reassuring squeeze.

Cillian turned his head toward her, his lips curling into a small, grateful smile.

His nerves were justified. Admittedly, she felt them too. They both knew Jenni and Patrick would be there, and neither of them had any interest in dealing with them. But Auden had to attend — Charles expected her there — and Cillian, ever the gentleman, respected that. Charles had made her promise that there would be no drama tonight. She intended to keep her word.

When they arrived, Auden could already tell the party was packed. A small crowd lingered outside, and as soon as she spotted the flashes of cameras, her stomach dropped.

"Lovely," Cillian muttered. "I should've guessed the press would be here."

Auden bit her lip, anxiety coiling in her chest. The last thing she wanted was to see her face plastered across the tabloids tomorrow.

"Let's just get this over with," she said, jaw tight.

Cillian leaned in suddenly, pressing a kiss to her temple. "Follow my lead. It'll be okay."

Before she could respond, he was out of the car, rounding the vehicle to open her door. Her stomach flipped. He always made a point to do things like that. As she took his outstretched hand, his grip was firm and warm, grounding her as she stepped onto the sidewalk. A cold gust swept around them, making her shiver as she tugged at the hem of her dark-blue cocktail dress.

"You look amazing," Cillian murmured, his gaze trailing appreciatively down her body.

Heat rose to her cheeks just as the cameras erupted in a frenzy. The sudden barrage of flashes blinded her.

"I can't fucking see," Auden hissed, lifting a hand to shield her eyes.

Cillian's arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her into his side. "I've got you. Always."

Men called his name, shouting for him to turn toward them, but Cillian ignored them completely. With a firm hand guiding her, they pushed toward the entrance. He shouldered the door open, making sure she was inside before him, blocking her from view.

The second the door closed behind them, muffling the chaos outside, Auden exhaled sharply. "That was... a trip."

Cillian remained quiet as he helped her out of her coat, draping it over the nearby rack. She glanced around the gallery, already transformed for the holiday season — strings of warm LED lights twinkled overhead, a massive Christmas tree stood proudly in the center, adorned in silver and gold ornaments, a crystal star crowning the top. Caterers weaved through the crowd with trays of champagne and hors d'oeuvres, and lively, pop-infused Christmas music played in the background.

Charles knew how to throw a party.

Her gaze drifted, scanning the room until she spotted Jenni. She wasn't with Patrick. Instead, she stood in a group of women, laughing and sipping white wine, though Auden caught the way her gaze flickered toward Patrick on the other end of the room every few minutes.

She looked... stunning. Her raven hair was swept into an elegant updo, a shimmering gold dress clinging to her figure. The deep V-cut in the back revealed an intricate koi fish tattoo running up her spine. The sight of it — the effortless allure — made something hot and sharp twist in Auden's stomach.

God, she hated that.

Patrick, across the room, was deep in conversation, impeccably dressed, as expected. But still, something was off. Why weren't they together?

A warm hand pressed against the small of her back, snapping her from her thoughts.

"Here comes Brigid," Cillian murmured, amusement lacing his voice.

Auden turned just in time to see Brigid's fiery curls bouncing through the crowd, her arms outstretched. She was wearing an emerald-green dress, cut scandalously low.

Auden arched a brow. "I see the girls are out tonight."

Brigid beamed. "Don't they look fantastic?"

Auden glanced at Cillian, who was very obviously looking anywhere but at Brigid's chest. She snorted. "They do look... big."

Brigid grinned. "Hopefully, by the end of the night, some rich lad finds his face between them."

Cillian choked on a laugh, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Jesus Christ, I need a drink. You want one?" he asked Auden.

She nodded, still laughing as he shook his head and made his way toward the bar.

Brigid clinked her champagne flute against Auden's arm, "You should probably go say hello to Charles."

Auden sighed. She really didn't want to, but she knew she had to. "You're right. Be back."

Auden found Charles near the massive Christmas tree, a fresh drink in his hand and a telltale glaze over his usually sharp eyes. He was deep in conversation with a couple of older patrons, but when he saw her approaching, he beamed, waving off the others with an exaggerated flourish.

"Auden, my pride and joy," Charles bellowed, his words
slurring ever so slightly. "Come, come, stand next to me."

She smiled politely, stepping closer. "Charles, the party is beautiful as always."

He waved a dismissive hand. "Oh, please. Flattery gets you nowhere with me — though, granted, I did outdo myself this year." He winked before taking a long sip of his drink.

Auden smirked but was too distracted to play along. She had too many questions, and with Charles in this state, she knew he'd be more willing to talk. She hesitated, glancing across the room at Cillian, who was now standing near the bar. His posture was loose, as he listened to something Brigid was saying. Jenni wasn't far, looking at him too often for Auden's comfort.

Charles followed her gaze and sighed dramatically. "Ah, the ghosts of Christmas past," he murmured, swirling his whiskey.

Auden turned back to him. "Can I ask you something?"

He grinned. "Darling, you can ask me anything."

She chose her words carefully. "What really happened with Jenni? Why did she leave?"

Charles exhaled heavily, the bravado slipping just slightly. He glanced down at his drink, as if debating whether to tell her. "She left because of the divorce. The moment she and Cillian fell apart, she was gone."

Auden frowned. "I thought she never officially worked here."

Charles chuckled, though there was no humor in it. "That's the tragedy, isn't it? She was my right hand, my partner in crime. She ran this place with me, kept things lively, kept me sane. But no, she was never on payroll. She didn't need to be." He took another sip. "She had Cillian. And when she lost him, she lost this too."

Auden's stomach twisted. She had never thought about it like that. She had stepped into Jenni's place, unknowingly taking over the space she once filled.

Charles studied her face and sighed. "Don't look like that, sweetheart. You've done a better job than she ever did, truly. But..." He glanced at his drink again, swirling the amber liquid. "I won't lie to you. I miss it—the way things were. The three of us — Cillian, Jenni, and me — we were something once."

Auden swallowed, glancing back toward Cillian, who still looked wound tight. "And now?"

"Now?" Charles scoffed, shaking his head. "Now, Cillian barely looks at me. He thinks I knew about Jenni and Patrick." His voice dropped lower, almost mournful. "I didn't, Auden. I swear on my life, I didn't. But he doesn't believe me."

Auden's breath caught. "He really thinks that?"

Charles nodded, rubbing his temple. "He hates me for it. Thinks I stood by and let it happen." His expression grew bitter. "I thought I knew her. I thought she would never..." He trailed off, shaking his head before forcing a smile. "Ah, but look at me. Drunk and sentimental. You shouldn't be hearing all this."

Auden placed a hand on his arm, a rare gesture of comfort. "Charles... I'm sorry. I'll talk to him."

He patted her hand absentmindedly. "It is what it is. But let me tell you something, my dear." He turned to face her fully, his dark eyes suddenly sharp despite the liquor. "If Cillian lets you in, don't make the mistake Jenni did. Don't let him slip through your fingers."

Charles took another swig of his drink, grinning. "He's a good man. Did you know I'm his son's godfather?"

Auden's brows lifted. "Really?"

The name clicked before Charles could even confirm it — Charlie. Of course. That explained a lot.

Auden barely registered Charles talking beside her. Her mind was elsewhere — on Cillian, Jenni, and now, Charles. The history between them ran deeper than she'd initially thought.

"All of this to say," Charles remarked suddenly, his words slurring, "I'm surprised they're getting along,"

Auden frowned. "What?"

Charles sighed again, straightening his posture, his mind already moving elsewhere. "Now, I believe I need another drink. And you —" He gestured toward Cillian. "You have something else to worry about, don't you?"

She followed his pointed finger, finding that Cillian was standing next to Jenni, his body angled toward her, smiling.

Jenni laughed, reaching out to lightly touch his arm. He didn't move away. Auden felt her heart hammer against her ribs, her jaw clenched. Cillian's gaze flickered toward her then, and for the briefest moment, his smile faltered. He knew how this looked.

Auden narrowed her eyes, silently conveying her displeasure.

Then, she made a snap decision.

"Two can play at this game," she murmured under her breath, excusing herself from Charles before setting her sights on Patrick.

He was alone, his face engrossed in his phone. Perfect.

She cast another glance toward Cillian. He was no longer engaged in conversation. He was watching her. Intently.

Good.

She jutted her chin, squared her shoulders, and sauntered through the crowd toward Patrick, fully aware of Cillian's burning gaze on her.

"Hey there," she purred.

Patrick's head snapped up from his phone, eyes widening. "Auden?"

The moment stretched, tension thickening between them like the heat in the air before a storm. Auden kept her eyes on Patrick, though she could feel the presence of Cillian behind her — heavy, unwavering, watching.

She smiled, playing innocent. "How've you been?"

Patrick hesitated. "I... well. And you?"

She sighed dramatically. "I've been better. But I have to say, I'm glad you're here. Makes this party a little more exciting."

His lips twitched. "Really? I thought you hated me."

Auden laughed, reaching out to touch his arm. "I could never hate you."

Patrick swallowed, his expression shifting. He stepped closer. "Auden... I've really missed you."

Auden barely had time to process Patrick's words before she felt the heat of Cillian's back behind her — solid, commanding, and buzzing with restrained energy.

Patrick's expression shifted, his bravado melting under Cillian's sharp gaze. "Murphy," he greeted, his voice carefully neutral.

Auden turned slowly, lifting her gaze up to Cillian's face. His expression was unreadable — too calm, too carefully composed — but his eyes told another story. Blue and burning, sharp with something just shy of anger.

Possession.

"Patrick." Cillian's voice was clipped, his eyes never leaving Auden.

An electric charge crackled between them, unseen but unmistakable. Auden felt it in her chest, in her fingertips, in the way her pulse hammered against her throat. She wasn't afraid, nor was she exactly guilty. No — she was thrilled.
She could see it in Cillian's eyes, the flicker of something dangerously close to jealousy. He wouldn't admit it, but it was there. And that only made her more defiant.

"I should —" Patrick started, but Auden barely heard him. She wasn't interested in Patrick anymore; the game was over.

Cillian's fingers brushed against her wrist, a silent command. "Let's talk," he murmured, his breath warm against her temple.

Auden tilted her chin up. "We can talk right here."

His jaw tensed, that beautiful, sculpted jaw. "Not here."

Patrick cleared his throat awkwardly. "Right. I'll, uh—see you around, Auden." He disappeared into the crowd, but neither of them acknowledged it.

Cillian leaned in, his voice low but simmering. "Are you having fun?"

Auden crossed her arms. "Are you?"

He let out a short, humorless laugh. "Oh, I see what this is."

"You were cozy enough with Jenni," Auden shot back, arching an eyebrow.

Cillian's lips quirked at the corner. "And you ran straight into Patrick's arms because of it?"

She bristled, but damn it, she loved this. Loved how he met her fire with his own. "I was just having a conversation," she said sweetly.

Cillian stepped closer, invading her space. "That wasn't a conversation. That was a performance."

"And what were you and Jenni doing?"

"She came to me," he growled.

"And you didn't stop her."

Cillian exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. "I don't like how he looks at you."

Auden shrugged lazily, "I didn't notice."

"He's doing it now."

Auden followed his gaze, finding Patrick standing awkwardly next to a group of people talking. When their eyes met, Patrick looked away.

Auden smirked.

"Better not leave me alone then."

Cillian let out a choked laugh. "Christ, Auden, do you want me to fight him?"

Her stomach flipped. The idea of Cillian throwing a punch over her — of that primal, possessive instinct — made something dark and thrilling swirl inside her. It was new, exciting even.

She tilted her head, playing innocent. "Why? Would you?"

Cillian's eyes darkened, his voice rougher now. "I would."

They stood there, locked in this dangerous pull, breathing the same air. The world around them faded.

Auden smirked, just to push him further. "Then maybe we should go somewhere private."

He held her gaze, searching her expression, and then —something shifted. His decision was made.

"Your office," he said. It wasn't a question. He was pissed.

Auden's pulse jumped. She should have been nervous. She should have backed down. But instead, she turned on her heel and started walking, feeling Cillian's presence close behind her.

The argument wasn't over.

It was just beginning.