Page 81 of Mob Bride

“Maybe. But I should still be entitled to private conversations without worrying you’re eavesdropping or believing you deserve to know every nook and cranny of the truth. You should trust me better, Carrie.”

“We’re not there yet.”

“And it’s obvious we won’t get there.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you have a very large resort, and you’re the only guest. Make yourself at home,Carrie. Since you don’t have your purse or any of your belongings, I don’t have to worry about you using a lock picking set to get into my office. Otherwise, you have the run of the house. I’ll make sure there’s plenty of food delivered to you. Whatever you want.”

“Wait, what? You make it sound as though you won’t be here.”

“I won’t. Obviously, you know what I’m up to. As you know, I have other plans. I might be away for a while. I’ll see you when I see you.”

“What the hell does that mean, Shane? You’re just leaving me here alone in this house?”

“Why not? I’m usually here alone. It’s peaceful with nobody else here.”

That stings, and he knows it. He said it to hurt me, and I deserve it.

“Are you leaving right this minute?”

“No, I don’t need to. But like I said, you have the run of the house. You can do as you please. There’s a pool in the backyard. I won’t disturb you.”

“Shane, this conversation isn’t over.”

“Oh, yes, it is because there’s not a single thing more I can say to you that won’t be hurtful in some way or another. And that’s not my goal.”

His words say nothing more, but his expression makes up for it. He clearly believes what I did was intentionally hurtful. It wasn’t, but it’s certainly the fallout. He turns around and goes back into his office.

It would be easier if he slammed the door in my face. But it closes with barely a sound until I hear him turn the lock. I’m left standing in the hallway with no one to blame but myself.

Chapter Eighteen

Shane

I need the time alone in my office to calm down. I’m so frustrated, disappointed, angry… A whole hodgepodge of feelings right now. I wanted to believe Carrie would remain in the living room where I asked her—or I guess I told her—to stay. I didn’t want to think she’d spy on me, so I trusted her. I now feel like an idiot for doing it. Not so much that I believe she’s going to run and tell her supervisors what she heard.

Just the opposite. I’m more worried about what they’ll try to get out of her. Not like I expect them to stick bamboo shoots under her fingernails or put the screws to her. However, they could compel her to testify. Then she’d have no choice but to get on the stand and share everything she just heard, which includes the commissioning of murder that could put me and my entire family behind bars. We have enough shite we’re guilty of on our own without my girlfriend being the reason we wind up on death row. Well, maybe not death row because the State of New York doesn’t have that, but life in prison.

I feel betrayed even though I think I understand her motives. She’s used to a great deal of control just like I am because her lifedepends on it just like mine does. However, her need for control right now just created a massive weakness for all of us, and I’m trying to cut her some slack because this is all new to her.

She’s really only existed on the periphery of the syndicate world. Yeah, she might have been with Bartlomiej for several months and been privy to things going on with the Poles, but that’s not the same as living it day to day. Now she’s staying in my house with me and is potentially—I guess—my girlfriend. I don’t even know now.

It’s way different being with an Irish mobster. The Poles are certainly not a syndicate to underestimate, but they don’t have even a microscopic amount of the pull my family and I do. She’s with one of the senior-most members of the Irish mob. Not for nothing, but I’m kinda a big deal, and that’s what scares me for her.

I don’t think she understands the true ramifications of all of this, and I’m angry at myself because her not understanding falls on my shoulders. I could have—should have—explained all of this better. I made an unfair—even if I think completely understandable—assumption. Instead of wondering about what she’s going to tell her bosses about Bartlomiej, I should have thought more about what to tell her to clue her in beyond what she thinks she knows.

There’s just so fucking much more than what she thinks she knows. I need to consider my next steps, so I walk to my desk and sit. It’s one of the comfiest chairs in my house. It’s an ergonomic, everything cushiony everywhere, top-of-the-line desk chair because I spend too many hours here. Not only do I head up most of our construction projects, but I’m also in charge of our PR. Between the two, it means I make the ugly go away.

I spin the tales in the news that make us the victim when I need us to be and the heroes even when we’re not. It also means I decide what other syndicates hear about us, what falseinformation or what truth we feed to them. While I can’t deal with what Carrie just did now because I’m too upset, I can think about the messaging we’re going to put out about her being with me.

I have to consider this on several layers because I don’t know where we stand. Maybe she’s just a houseguest or maybe she’s the future I hoped she’d be. Either way, she’s now linked to me. I wake my computer and check my email and the ones belonging to various other syndicate members.

We all have multiple accounts for the ones we don’t mind people hacking. Those are often my primary source of miscommunication. Then there’re the extra secure ones for deals we want to do with nobody knowing, but it wouldn’t be the end of the world if they leaked. Then there’s the highest level of security my twin set up to make sure nobody under the sun can crack it. The perks of having a brother with a graduate degree in national security. We always say if he can find a country’s nuclear secrets and keep them to himself, then he can keep our family secrets intact.

I don’t notice the time go by until it’s been nearly two hours since I locked myself in here. I really need to check on Carrie. That’s assuming she didn’t just walk out. I know my men would’ve told me if she tried, but I wouldn’t fault her since I abandoned her. Even though I’m still unsure how I feel, it wasn’t right for me to walk away from her in a strange house when she’s here basically under duress. I close up shop in my office and put my laptop back in the safe where I keep it.

I head out to the living room and find Carrie asleep on the sofa. I glance at my watch again. It’s too early to call it a night, but it doesn’t surprise me she’s taking a nap. Maybe she’ll sleep through the night. I scoop her into my arms and wish everything was so simple as this. I make my way up to the guest bedroomand carefully pull down the covers as best I can while juggling holding her.

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