But this feels like a new, deeper blow.
I won’t see him until our wedding day. I wonder if the pain will ease before then, or if I’ll look at him through my veil and hate him for being willing to throw me back so easily. I wonder how those feelings will change over the coming days and weeks and months, if it will drive a wedge between us that can’t be pulled free.
I wonder if he even cares.
11
CONNOR
“You’re fucking kidding me.”
“Unfortunately not.” Viktor raises one shoulder as he looks at me from across the table at the back of the small café. There’s an untouched coffee in front of me, nothing in front of Viktor. “It seems Liam was a step ahead of us in this. Smart of him.”
“So it was a waste of time.” I run my hand through my hair, frustration, anger, and relief flooding me all at once—and anger over the relief, too.
I’m frustrated at how difficult this is proving, even now that I’m back. I’m angry that Liam has outsmarted me, even though once upon a time I would have been proud of him. And I’m relieved, because this means I won’t lose Saoirse. I’ll marry her after all, in a week’s time, and then I’ll take the pleasure I’ve waited this long to claim.
I’m angry that I’m relieved, because I don’t want her to have that much power over me and my emotions.
I haven’t gotten the memory of our drunken phone sex out of my head. I can’t. I’d come again to the memory of it, just this morning. Her sweet, slurring voice, thick with need, teasing me back to an erection and then begging me to let her come—it’s a sound I could hear over and over. And the bite to her voice later—the Saoirse I know well, still there underneath it.
No matter how much I fight it, she’s a good match for me, in temperament as well as values and pedigree. And our chemistry—
I’m deeply, viscerally glad that I won’t be handing her back to Liam. That I won’t return to London with the bitter knowledge that my brother is taking what should be mine to claim.
But I hate that she makes me feel as if she’s worth giving up my entire life before. A life that wasmine, built with my own two hands.
“So the wedding is still on, then. And our plans.” Viktor frowns. “Luca was disappointed to hear it.”
“Do you think I can trust him?” I take a sip of my coffee. It’s bitter, which is exactly what I want right now. “He’s got quite the conflict of interest going on.”
“I think so,” Viktor says carefully. “Luca is a man very in love with his wife, but he’s also a shrewd mafia don. I wouldn’t make the mistake of underestimating him in that regard. He wouldn’t have done so well in his time under Rossi, if he wasn’t, nor managed to keep Sofia alive at all through all of that. His blind spot is those he loves—we saw that with Franco, and it’s the same with Sofia. But he will make the right decisions for those who depend on him and for the future of the mafia, and that means staying true to the alliance with you.”
“You sound very certain of that.”
“I am.” Viktor’s voice is cool and firm. “You were meant to be the heir in the first place, Connor. Liam took it because we all thought you were dead. But you’re here, alive and able to marry Saoirse and lead as you were meant to. Your brother means well, and he’s done a fair job of things while you were gone, but he’s reckless and passionate. He leads with his heart, always. It’s what led him to Anastasia, and astray from the plan set for him. You lead with your head.”
“I appreciate your faith.” I take another sip of my coffee. “And the business you were in before—I have to ask again. You’re done with it? I won’t have the Kings associated with that under my leadership, Viktor.”
Viktor shakes his head firmly. “I’ve put that behind me,” he assures me. “My contacts with the clients I sold to before are severed. My wife convinced me to look at new avenues of building business. Sex still sells, of course, but there are better ways of taking advantage of that. Escort services, strip clubs, bondage clubs. And of course, there is the matter of the syndicate.”
“Assassins and spies, sent to you, with Levin Volkov at the head of training them.”
Viktor nods. “Levin, and Niko Ellis. Not Russian by birth, but a part of the Bratva now, and a fiercely loyal man.”
“And you believe this will mix well with our businesses?”
“You already have connections in the underground club networks. You trade arms—the syndicate is well-connected in that area as well. We can help each other. Luca’s drugs can be run through our shared clubs.” Viktor leans closer. “Separately, we are all rich and powerful, Connor. As a triad, we will be unstoppable. And if we were ever to bring others into our alliance—”
“Others?” I narrow my eyes. “Other cities?”
“Other mob factions.” Viktor leans back again, shrugging. “There’s the Yakuza, although they notoriously keep to themselves, and have no American presence just now. The cartels—they might be of use, at some point. Levin has had some dealings with them in the past.”
“We’re getting ahead of ourselves.” I tip back the last of my coffee, and set the plain china cup down. “If you’re sure of Luca’s allegiance, then we move forward. I marry Saoirse next week, and that piece is complete. Next, we make moves towards the table.”
“And you make moves towards getting her pregnant with your heir.” Viktor smirks. “The sooner the better, Connor. There’s some hesitance among the table. They were willing to throw Liam out in the first flush of anger, but since emotions have cooled some, there’s a portion of them that question if you’re fit either.”
I grit my teeth. “How so?” I already know the answer, but I want to hear him say it aloud.