I remember how, for a moment, we were brothers again.
“I’m leaving Alessio here in my stead for a few weeks,” Luca says abruptly. “There are problems among the families in Chicago. Infighting, threats of assassination. I need to go and deal with it. Alessio is perfectly capable of handling matters here, but you can always contact me if need be.”
The meeting wraps up shortly after that, but as we all prepare to leave, Jacob stops me. “Can I talk to you?” he asks gruffly, and I nod, looking at him curiously. There’s a strain to his voice that I’m not used to hearing.
“What is it?” We’re the only two in the basement now, the others having filed upstairs. “Is there a problem?”
Jacob shakes his head. “Not a problem per se. You know I don’t like to question you, Connor. At the end of the day, you’re the boss. I work for you. But the men are worried, and you need to know that. There was a lot of talk while you were gone. A lot of aired concerns.”
“Oh?” I raise an eyebrow. “Concerns about what?”
“Too much politics,” Jacob says flatly. “Too much of this posturing, pulling rank, fighting over titles and estates. This isn’t what the gang is about, what we were in London. You know that. I know you do. It’s mostly the other men, but Quint is worried about it too. Worried about what it looks like for us when you take over the Kings and rule a table full of old rich men on death’s doorstep who will be succeeded by their younger, richer sons. Where is there a place for us in all of that? We founded this gang on the idea that it didn’t matter what a man’s name was, who his father was, or how much money he had. Just his loyalty and grit. But this has nothing to do with any of that. The men don’t like it.”
“I understand,” I say quietly. And I do. Jacob’s right that the Kings themselves, the tenets of the organization, everything about it has nothing to do with how I put together our gang in London. “Just—talk to them, Jacob. Get them to be patient. Give me some time. Things will settle down once Liam is removed, and we’ll find where the place is for you and the other men. I brought you here because I need you—all of you. We’ll make a new way. I just need to take back my place first.”
Jacob hesitates. “This idea of peace that the Nakamura family spoke to you about that.” He pauses again, worry on his face as if he’s not sure how I’ll take his words, but he plunges forward anyway. “I’m with the Italian on that. Think of what it might mean if the two of you could make peace. Hell, maybe we could all go back to London, run it from there.” He sees the expression on my face and keeps talking, faster now. “Or even if not—with peace, you’d have another member of your own family who sees things differently. Clearly, Liam has ideas of his own, or he wouldn’t have insisted on marrying that girl. The two of you could break new ground together.”
“I appreciate your thoughts, Jacob, but—”
“Just think on it,” Jacob says hurriedly. “Just—give it a chance. That’s all I’m asking. The warehouse fire won’t be the worst of it, if this gets bloody. Mark my words, boss.”
He doesn’t wait for me to speak. He steps past me, heading up the stairs, leaving me to think about what he’s said alone.
Peace with my brother.Not once since Saoirse and Graham came to find me had I considered that possibility—the possibility of sharing power.
It feels like as much of a pipe dream, a fantasy, as a happy marriage with my wife. Something that I might desire, but that can never happen.
There’s too much water under the bridge. Too much that’s passed. The only way forward is the path I’m already on.
But that doesn’t mean I don’t wish that it could be different.
12
SAOIRSE
I’ve never felt as confused as I do right now, with Niall’s hands on me, his mouth devouring mine, his now-familiar need for me making me feel weak with desire. While Connor and I were in Japan, all I’d been able to think about was being with Connor, but his deception and abrupt shift back to cold and uncaring has left me feeling like an idiot for believing it could be different. But with Niall—
I know Niall means everything he’s saying to me. There’s no deception, no games, no manipulation. There’s nothing but his unleashed longing for me, the hunger in his every touch and kiss, and it’s enough to make my head spin and my heart race. It’s enough to make me feel as if I should throw myself headlong into his arms and forget ever having wished for more with Connor or having been foolish enough to think I could have it.
I’d been too preoccupied with the way he’d had me pinned up against the door to notice what room we were in, but as he breaks the kiss, his forehead against mine as we both gasp for breath, I realize it’s a guest bedroom. My heart skips a beat in my chest, a warning feeling of panic flashing through me at the same moment that I feel my body heat, my desire for him, and my awareness of how dangerous this is warring with each other.
It’s not just that I’m afraid of us losing control, either, that my unstable emotional state and what Niall gives me will result in me letting this go past the point that’s “safe.” Liam and Ana are in the house, and either of them—bothof them—could walk in on us. We could be caught, and while I don’t believe that Niall is using me as Connor fears, I absolutely believe that Liam would use catching me with Niall against Connor and me.
Niall doesn’t seem to be thinking any of that, though. With his hands on my waist, he picks me up and turns me, backing me towards the bed as he kisses me again, his hands sliding down to my hips and back up again. I try to gasp his name, to tell him this is a bad idea. Still, his kisses are insistent, swallowing every word I might say. The feeling of being desired, of not having to wonderwhyor what he wants from me besidesme, is so intoxicating that I can’t pull away.
I know this isn’t safe, that it’s not fair to him when just a few days ago I wasn’t thinking about him at all, and I know that we need to talk much, much more about what this is and what he wants before it goes further. I know that itcan’tgo as far as he wants, not today, not for a long time.
But it feels good. It feels thrilling, heady, his hands on my skin sending electricity through me, turning me on until I’m aching not just for physical pleasure but for more of this feeling of being wanted unashamedly, truthfully.
“Saoirse—” he groans my name against my lips, backing me up to the bed, lifting me onto it as he follows me, pressing me back into the mattress. My skirt rides up my thighs, and his hand slips under it, seeking out the smooth lace of my panties.
“Niall, we—”
“I’m not going to go too far, lass,” he murmurs. “I just want to touch you. I can control myself. Even if you beg—” There’s a wicked gleam in his eye, and from the way I feel him throb against my leg, I can tell that the idea of it turns him on. “I know what you’ve told me. I just—” His hips rock forward, his fingers skimming over the damp gusset of my panties, his groan vibrating against my lips. “I need to touch you.God, I need—” He bites my lip, not hard, but enough to make me arch upwards into his hand, moaning softly.
“I need you,” he finishes, and then his mouth is on mine again.
He kisses me hard, eagerly, as if he knows we don’t have much time. He rubs me over my panties until I’m grinding into his hand, making small, helpless noises that are swallowed up by the kisses, and then his fingers slip under the edge of the lace.