“We’re not going to Boston yet,” I say calmly, and suddenly I have the attention of everyone in the room, just based off of that oneyet. “I haven’t decided what I’m going to do,” I add calmly. “But I’m considering my options. And while I do that, we’re going to fly to Dublin—allfourof us, since Niall has decided to insert himself into this—and meet with the primary chapter of the Kings there. We’re going to find out if there’s some other arrangement that can satisfy all parties—possibly both without my having to go back to Boston and without my brother’s death.”
“That’s not acceptable—” Graham starts to say, and I narrow my eyes at him, tossing back the last of my second scotch.
“It’s my terms,” I say with a shrug. “Take it or leave it. As for Saoirse—”
“You’ll finalize the betrothal here, in London, before we go.” Graham faces off with me, his arms crossed.
“No.” I match his gaze. “I haven’t agreed to take over yet. Engaging myself to Saoirse would mean agreeing. Or would you rather have me sign the betrothal papers and then break it later, like my brother did, if I decide going back isn’t to my liking?” I glare at him. “I assure you, no one will be searing my fingertips or lashing me with a belt like my brother if I did, but I’m not sure Saoirse’s reputation can enduretwobroken engagements.”
Graham is seething, and it pleases me to no end to see it. “You’re a thorn in my side, lad,” he growls, and I smile broadly at him.
“I’m sure you’re eager to have me as a son-in-law then, should I decide to accept your offer of the Kings and your daughter.” I look at Saoirse. “Speaking of which, I don’t think our conversation is finished. Shall I escort you back to your room while these two finish talking? I can make the arrangements for flights tonight,” I add, looking over at Graham. “I don’t trust you not to bait and switch it and put us on a one-way to Boston.”
“Saoirse—” Graham says warningly, but she lets out a breath, striding to the door and opening it.
“He’s agreed to go to Dublin,” she says flatly. “It’s more than we had this morning. Let’s mollify him for now. Don’t worry, he won’t get any milk for free,” she adds sarcastically, stepping out into the hall as I follow.
“Your father’s worried about your virtue, hm?” I chuckle as I stride down the hall with her. “I think he can rest easy on that account.”
“Is that so?” Saoirse opens her door, walking in first as I follow behind her. “What was all that about bending me over a table earlier, then?”
“A test.” I open the door to her minibar, only to see her in the reflection behind me, with her hands on her hips. “What?”
“Don’t you do anything other than run up bar tabs on other people’s dime?” she demands.
“Sure.” I pick out a shot of gin this time, thinking regretfully of Amy as I pour it. “Sometimes, I run up myownbar tabs.” I turn towards her, swirling the clear liquid. “I also run a successful criminal enterprise, if you haven’t noticed. And I fuck women.” I take another step towards her, enjoying the sight of her throat convulsing as she swallows hard, the way her breath catches there as she takes a step back. “Well, and often.” I hold out the glass. “Want a sip?”
Saoirse shakes her head, crossing her arms. The loose oatmeal-colored top she’s wearing doesn’t have the same effect as last night, more’s the pity. “What are you doing, Connor?” she demands, looking directly at me, “What game are you playing at?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say innocently, taking a sip of the gin. “I’m doing what you and your father want, aren’t I? Agreeing to consider your little plan to bring the prodigal son back home?”
“What’s this about Dublin?” She isn’t giving an inch, glaring at me. “And finding ‘another solution.’ What solution do you think the Dublin Kings will have that we haven’t thought of? That the table will accept?”
“Well, I find Niall’s mention of simply disinheriting Liam’s heirs an interesting one.”
“It won’t fly.” Saoirse shakes her head. “Liam can say he’s disinheriting all he wants, but what happens when his son grows up and resents having his birthright taken away? No, if you don’t come back, they’ll want to salt the earth where any McGregor ever grew.”
I shrug, taking another sip of the gin. “Be that as it may, I’d like the counsel of the original chapter. I’m curious what they’d have to say about the situation, as well as the application of some of their more—brutal and archaic traditions. Ones that perhaps don’t translate well to the twenty-first century.”
Saoirse doesn’t take the bait. “And what if there’s no other solution?” she challenges. “What if the choice is you go back, or Liam dies? What then?”
I pause, looking at her. She’s even more beautiful when she’s angry, flushed, and fiery, her hair loose around her face and her arms crossed obstinately beneath her lovely breasts. I feel a throb of desire just looking at her, and I don’t forget for a moment that she could be mine, every inch of her, if I just agree to her father’s demands.
But I intend to play every card I have before I show my hand.
“Then I suppose I’ll have to consider that the only choice is to go back and marry you.”
“What a horrible outcome.” Saoirse snorts. “I’m so sorry.”
I consider her over the rim of my glass as I take another sip. “Seriously, Saoirse. Drop the princess act, the dutiful daughter act, for just a moment and be honest. Do you really want to be married to me? Is that really your idea of happiness? A beautiful woman like you, educated, with every possibility in the world open to her if she just broke free of her family—and yet you choose to stay, serving family and the Kings, selling yourself to a man you don’t even know to further your father’s ends. I don’t understand it.”
Saoirse purses her lips, and I see a flash of anger in her eyes. “Not everyone finds a life cut adrift from everyone they love as appealing as you do, Connor,” she snaps. “Some of us arecapableof love. Some of us do what we have to in order to keep our families close.”
“To keep your security blanket close, you mean. So that’s why you want to marry me? Just for your family? Or so your father doesn’t lose his power, and all that money and that nice house and your wardrobe of designer dresses and red-bottomed shoes along with it?” I narrow my eyes at her. “Is that it, Saoirse? You want money and influence, and you can get that by being the wife of the Boston King?”
“You have no idea what I would do with that money and influence,” Saoirse spits. “You’ve already made your conditions clear, Connor. I’d hoped for a faithful husband, if not a loving one, but it’s obvious I won’t get either in you. Pardon me if I hope for some benefit from spreading my legs for you.”
“Oh, I could list the benefits for you, and it would go on as long as the first night I fuck you.” I stalk towards her, draining the last of the gin and setting it aside as I close in on her. There’s not far for her to go in here—the bed, the wall, the huge window with its wide sill—all places for me to box her in and let her feel what she knows I can do to her with the barest touch, a kiss, without even going further than that. “I see you understood our earlier conversation very well, Saoirse, but that’s not all you need to understand.”