Chapter 1

Chapter One

Móirín

Two Weeks Later

U gh. I have been up for six hours unable to sleep. I have been tossing and turning trying to get my nerves to settle. Hell, my mind is wreaking havoc on my body. Or maybe it is my body wreaking havoc on my mind. It's been like this since I laid eyes on that arrogant, good-looking asshole Oisín.

One week ago, I finally tracked down the Shamrock my grandfather has been looking for. I used the word tracked loosely because the truth is I have done some marginally legal things to get to this point. I have stolen but replaced, I have lied but sort of told the truth, and I have cheated but for the right reason.

I found the brokerage warehouse that the last man I spoke with sent me to and I have to say I was impressed, but I was more excited about the fact that the first thing you see when you walk in the door is the Shamrock. My family's Shamrock. You have no idea how much my hand itches to take it and run but I knew I needed to be smart. So, I walked around making note of the cameras in the room, looking for hidden alarms and triggers, when I ran, literally ran right into him. Oisín, the owner. That man is a God. A real-life Adonis with an Irish name. My lady bit quivered and sang. Then he put his hands on me and my entire plan when on the skids.

I stood there like a crazy lady staring at him all goo-goo eyed and shit for the entire time his hands were on my shoulders keeping me from falling. At first, his expression, his eyes, they were cold and calculating. Then within seconds they softened, and I felt them inside of me and that's when I bolted like lightning right into the parking lot, cursing myself the entire time because of my unsophisticated criminal like behavior. I mean seriously what experienced thief runs from a hot guy? Okay yeah so, I am not exactly experienced but hey, I made it this far.

So, now, here I am letting my mind go crazy. Over the last week I have staked out his job making note of what time he comes and goes. I bought these spy binoculars online so that I could see far away and maybe get a hint for what his alarm password is, but when I took them out of the box, the lens popped out. Top notch my ass.

It doesn’t matter. I have it all figured out. Tomorrow, I am going to sneak in the backdoor when the weekly delivery comes in with the boxes to be delivered to the couriers. I am going to pull the fire alarm, slip into the cellar door where the champagne is kept and wait for everyone else to go out the emergency exit. Once they have left, since the cameras will all be off due to the alarm having an automatic disabled chip when there is a fire, I am going to grab the Shamrock and go out through the maintenance door. They have way too many doors. But see, all figured out.

Replaying this in my head over and over, I attempt to calm my beating heart. I am definitely not trying to convince myself that the real reason for my runaway arrhythmia is not because of him. I mean that would be cray cray because for me to need convincing it is not him; it would indeed have to be him and it is not, right?

“Screw it.” I sigh, pushing the covers back and forcing myself out of bed. I check my phone first to make sure I have no missed calls from the assisted living place my grandfather is in and walk right into my closet. Not for the first time I close my eyes and say a silent thank you to my parents for everything they have given me.

My mom and dad died when I was sixteen. A freak accident took everything from me in one day. It changed how I viewed the world and what I thought about happily ever after. Thankfully for me my grandfather took me in and never let me forget I was loved and wanted.

When they passed, they not only left me the house I grew up in which my grandfather moved into with me, but they also left me their company, their legacy. They were cosmetics manufacturers and as the only one in Ireland, I never have to work in my life and neither do my children's children. They had silent partners, none of which I ever met and have remained silent. I mean I guess if I had to do nothing to be filthy rich, I would be silent as well.

Stretching my arms above my head I take a deep breath before pulling out my crime fighting…well crime-committing catsuit and putting it on the bed. I got my inspiration from watching Catwoman the other day.

Smiling, I grab everything I am going to need for this final stage of my plan before jumping into the shower. It’s time to be brave, bold and cunning. I can do that. Right?