Page 52 of Yours

I stepped to the head of the table, ignoring the chair waiting for me. My father had always insisted that power meant being above eye level, that sitting conveyed submission.

Old habits die hard, even if my old man was six feet under.

“I want to talk about Marco Benedetti,” I began, locking eyes with each one of my men. “He hasn’t crossed the line yet, buthe’s danced on the edge of it more than once and we need to handle it.”

Seamus leaned forward. “We’ve heard whispers. He’s been putting feelers out to some of the smaller families in Brooklyn. Trying to poach allies.”

Declan’s fingers paused over his tablet. “I’ve been tracking his movements. He’s been frequenting Velvet a lot—enough to make me wonder if he’s scoping out the place for something else.”

Velvet. The same club where Kiera had stirred up trouble with Marco. My jaw tightened.

“And his father?” I asked, leaning on the table.

“Lorenzo Benedetti,” Seamus said, his voice grim. “The Italian kingpin of Manhattan’s underworld. Ruthless, cutting, and always three steps ahead. He’s letting Marco off the leash to see what he can do, but Lorenzo doesn’t tolerate failure. If Marco screws up, it’ll be his head.”

“Or ours,” Finn muttered.

“Not ours,” I replied. “Not if we stay ahead of this.”

Bradan spoke for the first time, his voice low and deliberate. “What’s the play? We can’t touch Marco without setting off Lorenzo. And Lorenzo won’t stop until he buries us if we start something.”

“Exactly,” I said, pacing the length of the room. “This isn’t about force. Not yet. Marco’s arrogant, but he’s also ambitious. We let him feel comfortable, and he’ll keep pushing until he makes a mistake. That’s when we act.”

Seamus nodded. “So, we keep him on a tight leash without him knowing it.”

I gestured to Declan. “I want everything on him. His movements, his contacts, his habits. If he so much as sneezes in a direction we don’t like, I want to know about it.”

Declan nodded, already typing furiously.

“And the clubs?” Finn asked.

“Beef up security at Velvet and the others in Manhattan. Discreetly,” I said. “If Marco’s stepping into our territory, he’s doing it to test us. I want him to know we’re watching without giving him a reason to complain to his father.”

“And if he crosses the line?” Bradan asked, his tone hard.

My gaze turned cold. “If he crosses the line, we remind him why the O’Malleys have ruled this city for generations. But we won’t do it until we have something to show Lorenzo.”

Seamus smiled. “You want Marco to hang himself with his own rope.”

“Exactly,” I said, my voice steel. “Marco’s not the problem. Lorenzo is. And if we make a move too soon, we’ll be playing into his hands. This has to be surgical.”

The room fell silent.

Seamus stood, his chair scraping against the floor. “What about you, boss? Where do you want to be in all this?”

I glanced at him, my decision already made. “I’ll be the one to handle Marco personally.”

I’d enjoy it too.

The room was quiet again, the tension thick as molasses.

“Dismissed,” I said, and one by one, my men filed out, their expressions grim, but focused. Seamus lingered, his broad frame blocking the doorway as Finn paused just behind him, his usual smirk half-hidden beneath a flicker of curiosity.

“Something on your mind, Seamus?” I asked evenly.

He glanced back at Finn, then stepped further into the room, pulling the door shut behind him. “Aye, boss, there is.”

Finn leaned against the wall, arms crossed, the flicker of a grin threatening to break free. “Heard something interesting last night,” he said, drawing out the words like he was savoring them.

---