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Chapter 21

Liam

Damn it. I’d meant to finish putting this thing together before Brioni got home.

Then work got in the way. Work always gets in the way.

Seven wants our pact officialized through paperwork and lawyers. Under the guise of a legitimate property merger, of course. A token gesture involving two vacant lots on our shared border.

As of the night of our engagement party, the heads of the Russian and Italian outfits have also agreed to this ceasefire. But everyone knows the main treaty is between us and Seven. By nature, none of the wording is more specific than “acts of bad faith.” So it’s not an incriminating paper trail, but it is on fucking paper.

Back in Da’s day, all you needed was two bosses and a handshake. Our world used to be simple. Not easy, especially not for the boss himself. But simple.

This new school of ours has a way of complicating things. Now there’s back rooms and board rooms, swanky parties and dry meetings. So I spent my day in a glass cage with Da and our team of legal dark suits.

I prefer being on fucking patrol to being in that board room. At least on patrol I’m keeping an eye on our territory firsthand, being seen by the people we protect. Reminding them that under the O’Sullivans, they’re safe.

Normally, the board room is Brady’s territory. My brother thrives in that glass cage, which is all the better for me. But we needed top-level signatures on this treaty. Da’s name on the dotted line, and mine beside his.

After we’d finally signed, Da made a comment about his signature not being needed on the next one. It was in that offhand way of his, but it still carried weight. A heaviness like a yoke on my shoulders. Next time, I’ll bear the responsibility alone.

In less than two months, my life will be even more duties, more consequential choices, more dangerous predicaments I’ll have to navigate us all safely through. More blood on my hands.

Even less time for assembling tables. Less time for Brioni.

I wish my entire world could be just her. Now, two months from now, the rest of my life. If I had a choice, I would gladly devote all of my time to dumb little gestures like this. Anything to see those liquid brown eyes of hers light up. The way they’re doing now.

Her doe eyes are even wider than usual as they shine at me. She’s got her hair down today, and she’s wearing a light blue dress that I want to tear off with my teeth. It swishes around her long legs as she approaches the upside-down table.

With her slim fingers, she caresses a silky curve of dark wood. She slides her touch along the table leg in a way that makes my cock twitch. The night of our engagement party, it was like she couldn’t wait to touch me. The way she slipped her hand into my fly. The way she wrapped her fingers around me before my pants were even unbuttoned. She wanted my cock so badly. And I was more than happy to give it to her.

Now, though. As much as I want to shove my cock into her tight pussy again, I won’t. The memory of her dashing into the bathroom yesterday morning, almost like she was fleeing from the sight of my hard cock, anxious at the thought of having sex, fills me with regret.

And rage. I boil at the thought of what Harrison must’ve done to her. He caused a lasting fear in my precious Brioni, and for that I will make him pay. I’ll cause a lasting fear in him. A lasting pain. I’ll peel off every inch of his skin with a rusty flensing knife. Then I’ll fill a sandblaster with metal shavings and let loose on his raw flesh. Because of me, he’ll know what it feels like to be defenseless, with someone more powerful taking advantage of your weakness.

As Brioni’s fingers reach the spiral of the ornately carved foot, she pauses. But she’s not studying the wood, I realize. She’s tilting her left hand back and forth so her emerald catches the light. I feel my breath hitch in my throat. The way she marvels at the simple gem is so wholesome. And here I am, fantasizing about the worst kinds of torture. She’s too good to be my fiancée. The best I could do for her was give her the engagement ring she deserves.

The ring itself means a lot to her, she told me as much. But as for what it represents… She doesn’t get it yet.

That ring tells the world she’s mine to keep. And I don’t plan on letting go.

I join Brioni beside the table. Crouching, I wrench the final bolt tight. From down here, I have the perfect view of her legs, slim columns that I want to reach out and touch. I’ve spent so many years not touching her. Not giving in to temptation, not corrupting her innocent skin beneath the grip of a mafia man.

But now, she’s mine. And I’ve restrained myself for far too long.

I reach out. I touch.

I wrap my hand around Brioni’s ankle, just above her bright white sock. She gives a small gasp, so close to the noise she made when I first pushed my cock inside her. God, I want to hear her make that noise again. I want to make her make that noise again.

Loosening my grip, I stand up slowly, dragging my hand up the inside of her smooth calf. By the time I reach her inner knee, she’s quivering. The fact that I can elicit this reaction with such a simple touch, on her calf no less, fills me with a heady power.

The things I could do to this woman.

There are things I won’t do to this woman, thanks to that motherfucker Harrison. But there’s still so much that I can. And will.

When my wrist brushes the hem of her dress, I drop my hand from her leg. I stand up and move away without a word, leaving her to yearn for my touch again. As I put away my tools, I feel her eyes on me. It’s the perfect opportunity for me to give her a show. To make her really quiver.

I approach the middle of the table and crouch down to flip it over.