Page 10 of Mercy in Betrayal

“Any progress on your other plans?” Ivan asks after I’ve taken a sip of the brandy. I swirl it around my mouth to savor the burn before I swallow.

I know what he is referring to. Rowan. She has been on my mind. Ever since I saw the image of her, and again two weeks ago when I saw her in person, I haven’t stopped thinking about the pretty redhead.

“Not yet,” I reply. “That little bird is still in her cage,” I mumble. Cassidy and Evie are keeping her very close, making it nearly impossible to get close to her. I have men following her every movement; most of which are shadowed by her brother Cassidy.

Ivan raises his glass and clicks it against mine; his dark eyes lighter than usual, like he’s happy.

I finish my drink and place the glass on the bar counter. “She is not the only little bird in this city. I've been told another will be leaving her cage very soon.”

I speak of Vivi Valachi, of course. She was promised to Ivan Romanov when they were children. So much has taken place with the deaths of Don Valachi and Damon and Lulu Papparado there's no telling what the status of that arrangement is, anymore, but I know Ivan retains an interest in everything that goes on behind Valachi doors. I get the sense that Angel has his finger in a dozen different pies at the moment, scrambling to try to repair a very shaky position within the Five—whether it's through marriage or some other means.

Ivan's gaze sharpens, as I expected. “How do you know this?”

I grin. I know something he doesn’t know, and I want to savor this moment. “Angel isn't as clever as he thinks he is."

Chapter 4

Rowan

Cell Phone… check.

Notebook…check.

Laptop…check.

Pilot precise extra fine tip ink pen…check. Although, maybe an extra wouldn’t go amiss. I toss a second pen beside the first.

Water bottle…check.

I lay each item out carefully beside the vintage leather messenger bag on my bed before I’m satisfied I haven’t forgotten anything and then begin placing each inside the bag, saving the water bottle for last.

That’s it. I’m ready. Or as ready as I’ll ever be, anyway. Nerves vie with excitement for a position in my stomach, and I smooth my hands over my middle, calming myself. Picking up the bag, I sling it across my body and give myself a critical look in the mirror.

The blouse and high-waisted trousers I’m wearing aren’t precisely fashionable, but they’re me in every sense of the word—classic and feminine and reminiscent of old Hollywood. I like the soft doe-brown of the pants and the way the drape of the creamy blouse accentuates my curves.

I give a small nod. I may not look like every other girl on campus, but I’ll do.

Clem pushes his head into my hand, claiming my attention.

“I’m sorry, bubba. The disability office hasn’t gotten back to me with your permit to be on campus.”

Hopefully, it will be coming soon. I can’t imagine spending my days without Clem.

Leaving my room, I sniff as the scent of something tantalizing weaves down the hallway. It leads me to the kitchen, where I find Meredith on the other side of the wide, marble-topped kitchen island, laying several plump, juicy sausages on a serving plate. She glances up with a smile as I set my messenger bag down on the table.

“Good morning, Row. How’d you sleep, dear?”

Meredith was the O’Hanlon’s elderly caretaker in Ireland—or rather, wife to the caretaker, John. She was the sole survivor of an attack that left every loyal O’Hanlon dead and would have killed Evie if John hadn’t saved her life.

She came over to the States with Evie and Cassidy, happy to live out her remaining years with them here instead of dwelling with memories in Ireland.

“Good—”

Before I can finish replying, Evie sweeps in and pulls me into an impromptu waltz, spinning me around and then releasing me as she half-dances around the counter to fill a mug with coffee.

“Morning, lil’ sis.”

“Morning. Someone’s in a good mood.”

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