He looks up. “Do you trust me?”
“Yes.” The answer comes instantly. It’s not even a hard question. “Absolutely.”
He nods to himself and lets out a breath. His shoulders round and he takes a long drink. “That’s good.”
“That’s what you were worried about? You’re afraid I don’t trust you?”
“You know I’m up to something. You know it has to do with Santoro. I might act strangely and I might make weird requests, but I need you to trust me.”
I chew on my lip and put my glass down. “You’re talking about the other day at the barbecue. When you wouldn’t go on that hit with my brothers.”
“Among other things, yes.”
I get up and go to him. I sit in his lap and kiss him, and I let that kiss linger for a long time. His hands grip my hips and hold me there, and I break away slowly, staring into his eyes.
“I trust you. I hope you’re being safe, and I don’t want you to do something reckless, but I trust you.”
“Good.” He seems genuinely relieved. “My plan’s coming together. I need to keep you and your family in the dark for a little bit longer, just to be safe, but I’m going to need you to convince your father to help out in the coming days. Do you think that’s possible?”
“I don’t know,” I admit. “My father has been tough lately. I mean, he knows Santoro needs to be taken down, but I’m not sure he wants to be a part of it.”
“I need him, baby. Otherwise, I don’t know if—” He stops himself like he was just about to say too much. “Just trust me.”
“I’ll talk to him. When the time comes, I’ll do my best to convince him, I promise.”
“Thank you.” He leans forward and kisses me. “Now, about that bedroom?—”
Chapter 39
Brody
The law office is quiet. We haven’t been taking on much work lately because of things with the organization, and most of my employees are either working from home or doing half days. Which is fine with me, since I know they’ll all step up and work hard when the time comes, but right now billed hours are down, and the place is sleepy.
Which is why I can hear Seamus stomping over a solid thirty seconds before he shows up at my door. My secretary went home already so there’s nobody to stop him from barging inside, looking like he wants to wrap piano wire around my neck and squeeze until my eyes bulge.
“We need to talk.” He walks over to my desk and slaps a folder down. “Explain this.”
I stare at him. “What the fuck are you doing?”
He steps back, crosses his arms, and gives me an expectant stare. I rub my face, sick of the theatrics, but I flip open the folder anyway.
It’s a bank statement. “Numbers aren’t my strong suit,” I mumble as I flip through the pages.
“Don’t be a fucking prick, you’re a tax lawyer. Third page, halfway down. There’s a very big transaction.”
I don’t need to turn to the third page to know exactly what he’s talking about. I knew this moment would come the second I moved money around. “It’s a legitimate expense.”
He throws up his hands. “Two million fucking dollars from the organization’s accounts is legitimate? For fucking what? We don’t move that much cash unless it’s absolutely important, and we definitely don’t do it without discussing things first.”
I lean back in my chair and rub my face. Dad never would’ve fucking consulted us when making decisions—this committee of equals thing only started when I took over. Seamus and the others still haven’t completely accepted that I’m the boss and I have the power to make unilateral decisions, even ones involving enormous sums of money.
“You’re going to have to trust me on this one.”
“Where did it go, Brody? Who did you pay?”
“Don’t press.”
He laughs and starts pacing. “The fuck is going on? Even Declan and Nolan are starting to notice. Molly said something to me this morning about how you’ve been distant lately. Is it the fucking wife? Did you take money because she’s running up credit card bills or something?”