LITMIR.BIZ

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over a few floors of some steel-and-glass building, but none of them had liked the idea of that. Instead, they’d purchased the old house and had it rehabbed into what they needed. There was plenty of room, with none of the cold stuffiness associated with many successful companies.

      There was a view of the beach from the front, and the backyard was a favorite spot for taking breaks. It was more than a place to work. It was home. The first real home he’d ever had. A home Brady shared with the only family he’d ever known.

      “The designs for the new game are brilliant,” Mike Ryan insisted, his voice rising as he tried to get through to his younger brother.

      “Yeah, for a fifth-grade art fair,” Sean countered and reached for one of the drawings scattered across the conference table to emphasize his point. “Peter’s had three months to do the new storyboards. He emailed these to me yesterday as an example of what he’s got for us.” Clearly disgusted, he stabbed the picture with his index finger. “Take a look at that banshee,” he said. “Does that look scary to you? Looks more like an underfed surfer than a servant of death.”

      “You’re nit-picking,” Mike said, shuffling through the drawings himself until he found the one he wanted. Sliding the artwork depicting a medieval hunter across the table, he said, “This is great. So he’s having trouble with the banshee. He’ll get it right eventually.”

      “That’s the problem with Peter,” Brady spoke up quietly, and both of the brothers turned to look at him. “It’s always eventually. He hasn’t made one deadline since he started with us.”

      Shaking his head, Brady reached for his coffee, which was already going cold in the heavy ceramic mug. Taking a sip, he listened as Sean said, “Agreed. We’ve given Peter plenty of chances to prove he’s worth the money we’re paying him and he hasn’t done it yet. I want to give Jenny Marshall a shot at the storyboards.”

      “Marshall?” Mike frowned as he tried to put a face to the name.

      “You know her work,” Brady said. “Graphic artist. Been here about six months. Did the background art on ‘Forest Run.’ She’s talented. Deserves the shot.”

      Frowning, Mike mumbled, “Okay, yeah. I remember her work on that game. But she was backup. You really think she’s ready to be the lead artist?”

      Sean started to speak, but Brady held up a hand. If the brothers went at it again, this argument could go on forever. “Yeah, I do. But before we do anything permanent, I’ll talk to Peter. His latest deadline is tomorrow. If he fails again, that’s it. Agreed?”

      “Absolutely,” Sean said and shot a look at his brother.

      “Agreed.” Mike nodded, then leaned back in his chair, propping his feet up on the corner of the table. “Now, on another topic, when’s our Irish visitor arriving?”

      Brady frowned. Both brothers were watching him. The Ryans had black hair and blue eyes and both of them stood well over six feet, just like Brady. They were as close as family, he reminded himself, and he was grateful for both of them—even when they irritated the hell out of him.

      He stared at the older of the two brothers from across the gleaming oak conference table. “Her flight lands in an hour.”

      “It might’ve been easier for you to go to Ireland—take a look at the castle yourself.”

      Brady shook his head. “There’s too much going on here for me to go to Europe. Besides, we’ve all seen the castle in the 360-degree videos.”

      “True,” Mike said, a half smile on his face. “And it’ll be perfect for our first hotel. Fate Castle.”

      Named after their initial success, the Irish castle would be revamped into a luxurious modern fantasy resort where guests could imagine being a part of the world that Celtic Knot had invented. Though Brady could see the potential in their expansion, he still wondered if hotels were the way to go. Then he remembered the last Comic-Con and the reaction of the fans when they’d been told about the latest idea rolling out of Celtic Knot. The place had gone nuts with cheers as their fans realized that soon they’d be able to not only visit the darkly dangerous worlds they loved but actually live in them, as well.

      Brady didn’t have to love the idea to see the merit in it.

      “What’s the woman’s name again?” Sean took a seat and sprawled comfortably.

      “Her last name’s Donovan,” Brady said. “First name, who knows? It’s spelled A-I-N-E. Don’t have a clue how to pronounce it. My best guess is ain’t without the T.”

      “Guess it’s Gaelic,” Sean said, gathering up the sheaf of sketches he’d brought with him into the meeting.

      “Whatever it is,” Brady said, glancing down at the file they had on the castle hotel and employees, “she’s been the manager for three years and by all accounts is good at her job. In spite of the fact the hotel’s been losing money over the past couple of years. She’s twenty-eight, degree in hotel management and lives on the property in a guest cottage with her mother and younger brother.”

      “She’s almost thirty and still living with her mother?” Sean whistled low and long, then gave a little shudder. “Is there a picture of her in the file?”

      “Yeah.” He pulled it free and slid it across the table to Sean. The photo was a standard employee shot and if it was true to life, Aine Donovan wasn’t going to be much of a distraction for Brady.

      Which was just as well. He loved women. All women. But even if he hadn’t been too busy for an affair at the moment, he had no interest in starting something up with an employee. When he wanted a woman, he had no problem finding one. But the truth was, he was happier burying himself in his work anyway. Far less aggravating to deal with the intricacies of running their company than to deal with a woman who would eventually expect more from him than he was willing to give.

      Sean glanced at her photo. “She looks...nice.”

      Brady snorted at Sean’s pitiful attempt to be kind. Even he had to admit that the Irishwoman wasn’t much to look at. In that photo, her hair was scraped back from her face, probably into a tidy bun. She wore glasses that made her green eyes look huge, and her pale skin looked white against the black blouse she wore buttoned primly up to the base of her throat.

      “She’s a hotel manager, not a model,” Brady pointed out, for some reason feeling the need to defend the woman.

      “Let me see that,” Mike said.

      Sean passed the slightly out-of-focus photo across the table. Mike studied it for a minute. Lifting his gaze to Brady’s, Mike shrugged. “She looks...efficient.”

      Shaking his head at the two of them, Brady took the picture back, slid it into the file and closed the folder. “Doesn’t matter what she looks like as long as she can do the job. And according to the reports we got on the hotel and its employees, she’s good at what she does.”

      “Have you talked to her about the changes we’ve got planned?”

      “Not really,” he told Mike. “It was pointless to try to explain everything long distance. Besides, we only just got the finalized plan for the remodel.”

      Since the construction crews would begin work in a month, it was time to bring Aine Donovan up to date.

      “Well, if we’re finished with the Irish news,” Sean said, “I had a call from a toy company interested in marketing some of our characters.”

      “Toys?” Mike sneered. “Not really who we are, Sean.”

      “Gotta agree.” Brady shook his head. “Our games are more for the teenagers-and-up crowd.”

      “True, but if they were collectibles...” Sean’s voice trailed off even as he gave them both a small smile.

      Brady and Mike looked at each other and nodded.

      “Collectibles

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