A Hand to Hold

Chapter one

~ Ronan

*

Grief was a powerful motivator. The day had been one of my most productive. Midnight fast approached, though I had no plans to leave the office any time soon. Even before I had grief to run from, I spent the majority of my time in that office, located on the top floor of one of the tallest skyscrapers in downtown Chicago. Candace had made a valiant effort to pry me out of that room, but the mission was futile. She was a great assistant and an even better friend, but nothing or no one would get me to leave before I was good and ready.

*

I ran my hands through my shaggy strawberry-blonde curls for probably the hundredth time that day. Being long past due for a cut, I’d grown accustomed to the length. The women I dated seemed to enjoy running their hands through my locks, which enticed me to keep it long. However, most of them hated my beard. Not that I cared. I detested shaving. And at the rate my facial hair filled in, maintaining a clean shave would require daily commitment. No woman was worth that.

*

Having completed my latest project, I closed my laptop with a satisfied sigh and stretched back in my desk chair. My eyes wandered around the spacious room. Across the room from my massive cedar desk stood the double doors that led into my personal assistant’s domain. Candace acted as a vigilant guard dog between myself and undesirables. A small sitting area occupied the center of the room, complete with two sleek black leather couches and a round white marble coffee table. The table was functional during meetings but, in the meantime, remained empty. I preferred clean surfaces and despised clutter. Even my desk got cleared off when not in use. I had no patience for pencil cups.

*

Bookshelves towered to my left, while the right-hand wall consisted of solid glass, providing a captivating view of the city, the space’s main attraction. I bought the office, along with the entire top three floors of the building, two years before, when I’d successfully transformed my father’s business into a billion-dollar empire. A lump in my throat formed at the thought of my father, and I swallowed hard to keep my emotions in check.

*

Desperate for more distractions, I reached for the top folder on the never-ending stack of work. Before I could dive into a new project, however, a loud ding from the next room pierced the silence. Seconds later came a knock on my office door, causing me to exhale in annoyance. Only a handful of people had access to my private elevator. My grandmother, being one of them, was not easily avoided.

*

I made my way through the sitting area and slowly opened the door, peering into deep blue eyes that matched my own. “Móraí,” I greeted the woman who raised me. “What are you doing here so late? You should know how dangerous the city can be at this hour, especially for a lady.”

“Good thing I’m not your typical lady,” she replied, patting the handbag which hung from her elbow. “I never go anywhere without my trusty sidekick.” Knowing she referred to the pistol within, I said, “It’s comforting to know that Prada bag is good for more than just appearances.”

*

I gestured toward the sofa, and she moved to take a seat. She placed her bag on the floor beside her, folded her hands primly in her lap, and assumed perfect posture before fixing a disapproving gaze on me. With a heavy sigh, I moved past her and returned to my desk. I rested against the front edge, facing her. I gripped the polished wood and braced myself for the admonishment I knew was coming.

*

Brigid Ó Ceallaigh was a master at knowing when to speak and when to remain silent. She knew precisely how long to hold her stare in a way that would generate optimal discomfort. When she was sure she had my full attention, she stated, “You missed the reading.”

“I am well aware,” I responded unapologetically.

“Are you truly grieving so deeply you couldn’t bring yourself to hear your father’s last wishes?” Some may have perceived her words as concern, but I knew better. Despite her calm manner, she was immensely displeased with me.

*

I took a moment before replying, “There is nothing in father’s will that interests me.”

“I think you’ll find you’re wrong, Ronan.” I waved her off, saying, “Let Maddie have everything. The cars, the houses, his bank accounts…”

“The business?” That got my attention. “What are you talking about, Móraí? The business has been mine for the past five years, long before his diagnosis.”

“Not officially, mo cuishle.” Her stern expression shifted to regret. The purpose of her visit suddenly became clear. Aside from scolding me for my absence, she was the bearer of bad news.

*

The floor seemed to vanish beneath me as I gripped the desk tighter for support and uttered, “Whatever you’re here to say, just say it.” My grandmother let out a long exhale and replied, “It would seem your father has given you a deadline.” I grit my teeth and asked, “What kind of a deadline?” She looked at me with a remorse that was not of her doing and released the words that would upend my entire life. “The business will only be officially yours in three years if…”

“IF? If what?” I snapped.

“If you’ve legitimately secured your legacy.”

“Speak plainly, Móraí!” I moved to stand directly in front of her as she explained, “You have to be married, with an heir, before the third anniversary of your father’s death. If not… the company goes to Madigan.”

*

I fell back onto the sofa in shock, completely blindsided by my father’s duplicity. My grandmother observed without speaking as I struggled to process the information. From the time I was eighteen, I’d worked alongside my father. I’d been there every step of the way, through every setback and success, as he built his business from the ground up. At a mere twenty-six, he passed me the reins of his million-dollar company and told me to see what I could make of it. I rose to the challenge. In less than three years, I’d transformed OCE into a billion-dollar empire. I believed him to be proud of my hard-earned accomplishment, but now… I didn’t understand.

*

“How the f**k could he do this to me?!” I yelled, shattering the silence.

“Ronan, I raised you better than to use such unsavory language.”

“I’d say this is a rather unsavory situation, wouldn’t you?”

“I know it’s disappointing, given how much you’ve poured into OCE over the past five years, but all is not lost. Three years to find a wife and produce a child is entirely doable.”

“It’s unacceptable! And Maddie doesn’t even want the business. She’s perfectly content as a stay-at-home mother. This is just as much a slap in the face to her as it is to me.”

“I agree,” she stated. “Nevertheless, according to your father’s will, he believed because she already has a spouse and a child, the business would be more secure in her hands.”

*

We sat in silence for what seemed like an eternity until my grandmother eventually said, “Don’t fret, love. Even if the business is in Madigan’s name, you could still run everything, just as you are now. Nothing would have to change.”

“And be nothing more than an employee?! Absolutely not! I’ve poured my blood, sweat, and tears into Ó Ceallaigh Enterprises. I’ve worked my ass off, transforming it into what it is today. I’ve worked too damn hard to watch Benson run it into the f*****g ground. I will not allow it!” I slammed my hand down on the coffee table and regretted it instantly when I startled my ordinarily composed grandmother. I loved her more than anyone, and the situation was in no way her fault.

*

Truthfully, my brother-in-law wasn’t completely incompetent. However, he had nowhere near my flair and skill with business. Best case scenario, he could keep it steady. But in the business world, a company that didn’t grow was doomed to fail.

*

When the initial shock wore off, I quickly realized I had no choice. If I wanted to retain everything I’d worked for my entire adult life, I would have to go along with my father’s last wishes, as outrageous as they were. I took a deep breath and exhaled with force as I said, “I apologize, Móraí.”

“That’s quite alright, mo cuishle.”

“You have many respectable contacts throughout the city.”

“I do,” she nodded.

“Well then… find me a wife.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Notes:

Ó Ceallaigh - pronounced Oh-kal-lay

Móraí (Mo-ray, an Irish name for grandmother.)

Mo cuishle (Mo-coosh-la, Irish slang for my darling.)