She looks up. Meets my gaze. The strange connection between us feels tangible at the moment. “That’s what some would say about you,” she snarls.
“I’m sure that’s true,” I say. “And if they have the balls to make an attempt on my life, they’re welcome to try. If they succeed in killing me, then I deserve to die.”
She frowns. “That logic makes zero fucking sense.”
“So be it.”
I lapse into silence. But I can feel her eyes on me, searching my face as though she’s trying to figure me out. I’m doing the same thing with her.
“What brought you here?” she asks abruptly. “Here to America, I mean. You’re not from here.”
“It’s a long story.”
She narrows her eyes at me. “You’ve abducted me, chained me to this fucking bed, and you’re refusing to let me leave. The least you can do is tell me your story.”
I raise my eyebrows. “I wasn’t aware you were that interested in hearing it.”
She tries to act disinterested. “I’m tired of reading.”
I lean back in my chair, and kick one leg up so that it’s resting on the edge of her bed. I’m mildly flattered that she even cares at this point. But it feeds into my theory that she’s as fascinated with me as I am with her. “I came here twenty years ago…”
“Because of my father?” she interrupts. She sounds curious more than bitter. But I have a feeling that it won’t take much to unearth that particular emotion.
“Mostly,” I reply honestly. “My brother, Cillian, is the don of the O’Sullivan clan. He dispatched me to New York to take care of the Italian threat.”
She frowns as though she doesn’t like how I’ve characterized her family. “Why was my father a threat to you?” she asks. Again, she sounds more curious than angry. But that could also be a result of her weakened state. The lack of food is making her look pale, ashen-faced. Her collarbones have become more prominent in just twenty-four hours.
“He wasn’t just encroaching on Clan territory. He was also undermining our allies, cutting in on deals that he had no part in. Attacking Clan warehouses and framing innocent parties.”
“Why would he do that?”
“Why else?” I ask rhetorically. “To gain power. To sow distrust and misinformation among our ranks so that he could break us up from the inside.”
Her frown deepens. She’s so gaunt and trembling with weakness.
“The Clan was establishing a stronghold in New York at the time,” I continue. “We were competing with him for dominance. He wanted to exterminate us so that he could do it all his way.”
“And there can only be one top dog?” Renata guesses bitterly.
“It’s a big world, Renata. Too big for any single family to control. We don’t mind sharing—with the right allies. For instance, the O’Sullivan Clan and the Kovalyov Bratva are completely separate entities. Some would even say we ought to be enemies. But that’s not the case.”
“Why?” she asks suspiciously.
“Because Don Kovalyov and Don O’Sullivan are as good as brothers,” I explain, amazed at how easy it is to share all this with her.
“Don O’Sullivan?”
“My brother,” I say. “Cillian.”
“The one that sent you to New York twenty years ago?”
“That’s the one.”
“So you came here, killed my father, destroyed his power base, and then what? You just decided to stay here forever?”
My muscles tense instinctively. I haven’t spent a lot of time lately thinking back on the circumstances that led me to stay in New York. As it turns out, it’s not very complicated. Doesn’t make it any easier for me to talk about.
“I didn’t decide anything,” I reply. “My brother decided.”