“By that logic, his victory is yours then, too,” Uncle Neal replied.
“It’s the family’s, isn’t it?” My eyebrow raised, and he smirked.
“Aye.” He nodded, sounding much more Irish all of a sudden.
“O’Phelan,” I stated when I came back into the room.
“Yes, sir.” He stepped forward.
“Let my wife know that she will need to plan a closed casket funeral for Greyson later.”
“Yes, sir.” He stepped back again.
The dining room grew quiet as all of them tried to accept and fit together the pieces of the puzzle in front of them. So finally, I got the silence I was looking for, allowing me to enjoy my meal. But just as soon as it came, it went. Someone else felt the need to test me, it seemed.
“How?”
We all paused at the stern and cold tone, which came from Sedric, who was no longer eating but just glaring at Darcy.
“What—”
“I was supposed to go with you,” Sedric cut off Darcy. “Which means this was something he had planned for us to get done together. But I got sidelined at the last minute. So, you did what he wanted you to do alone…How?”
Darcy sat up in his chair, the light manor in him now gone, looking back at Sedric. “Just because he preferred two doesn’t mean two were needed. It was one body, not an army. I’m sure there was another way, but I adapted. All of our properties have tripwires to blow if need be—something Uncle Liam told us when we were younger. I took that and made a smaller bomb and put it on the rat. Why? Because I needed time to escape and make up a valid story to get out. I wasn’t sure if Greyson should be a hero or not, but seeing as he wasn’t made an example by Ethan and killed slowly, I figured it was better not to trash the guy’s name. So, I did what I had to do. Why do you seem disappointed, cousin? Were you hoping I’d fail without you? That’s a bit selfish, don’t you think? I would suggest you and your sister start working on keeping those feelings to yourself.”
Sedric’s jaw tilted to the side, his nose flared, but his eyes just shifted to me. “Excuse me, Ethan—”
“No,” I cut him off.
“Ethan, I’d rather be—”
“Sit. The. Fuck. Down,” I hollered, and he did. “Do I look like I give a shit where you’d rather be? You dislike this? Well, get used to doing things you dislike. You wanted to be part of this; you wanted to be part of the business, so you need to learn who the fuck I am. I am not just your cousin. I am your boss; you work for me. You might not have noticed with your head stuck so far up your ass, but this city has cops all over it. We are infested, and instead of worrying about how the fucking hell we are going to keep our business going or what you can do, you and your sister keep bitching about how you are being treated. Do I look like I give a single flying fuck about your feelings? This is not a game! This is our fucking lives! So, open your goddamn ears and hear me because I will not repeat this shit to you again. One, you do not tell me what you’d rather do—ever! Two, you do what I fucking tell you to do—when the fuck I tell you to do it! And three—this is very important—you do not disrespect the mother of my child, not now, not ever again! Do you understand? Should I break it down more for you? Because yes, that also means you work for Calliope, too. The rules I just gave you apply to her as well. If you or your sister or anyone else in this family ever, and I mean ever disrespects me or my wife again, I swear to God, in front of your motherfucking parents, I will cut you in half and throw you into the goddamn river! I am fucking done holding all of your hands. Get in fucking line or get the fuck out of my face you fucking morons!” I hollered, throwing my dish at his head, but he moved, the plate shattering behind him.
Silence filled the room, and I met the gaze of all of my so-called family, the people who were supposed to be my arms and legs. Yet for years, they had been dead weight, sucking the life out of me. That was going to change!
Taking a deep breath, I glanced over to O’Phelan, who stood in the corner of the room silently. “Have the chef make me another plate.”
“Tonight’s meal was made by your wife, sir, should I call her?” he replied.
I fucking knew it.
Wyatt dropped his fork and glared at me. “If she poisoned me again—”
“Are you threatening her, brother? Did my words go in one fucking ear and out the other? Do you think I raised my voice for fun?” I asked, and he just cracked his jaw to the side before picking up his fork again.
“O’Phelan, did she fire our other chef?”
“No, she gave him a list of food she wants prepared for tomorrow. If he fails, she’ll fire him then.”
“I’m fine. Have him prepare me something. I do not care what, and have it sent to my office; I have work to do,” I demanded, rising from the chair.
I did not offer another word to any of them as I stepped back into the foyer. Laughter no longer came from the opposite room. The doors were partially open, and I could see my aunts all with worried glances staring back at me. The only one not looking at me was Calliope, who was whispering to Gigi in her lap. So, I ignored them and went upstairs and into the elevator.
The doors had only just closed when my phone began to buzz. I stared at the international number for a moment before answering.
“I am not your twin, and yet, somehow, you always manage to call whenever I am tempted to kill yours, Donatella.”
12