Page 72 of No Promises, No Lies

One of my favorite things about my brother and me is we always seem to be on the same page. The two of us have always been able to know what each other is thinking without words. And right now, we’re both thinking Adrik Kostalov is a snake.

The paperwork the Russian Pakhan had drawn up today... The cut was generous—too generous. That was only the first red flag. Adrik is getting sloppy in his old age.

His proposal: the Irish will supply muscle and ammunition to support the Cartel’s cargo drop and subsequent transport. For our efforts, we’ll receive a thirty percent cut.

A substantial amount of cash.

It reeks of a trap. Should’ve left the Russian piece of shit to die the other night.

Adrik’s reaction to Koen wanting to think it over before signing… even more so. No wonder the Russian bastard didn’t want me in the room. I would’ve told him where he could file that contract.

“This thing between you and the girl…”

“Rory.”

He pauses for a long while, the silence heavy. “Rory,” he corrects. “Caring for her complicates things.”

“I don’t care about her.” Another heavy silence... followed by a sigh. I’m grateful when he lets it go. “Let’s get through this fucking party, take stock of who shows and regroup.”

I nod, agreeing. Leaning forward in my seat. Eager to get this done.

“How long do you think they’ve been together?”

Koen doesn’t need to ask to know who I’m talking about. He looks up and studies the “happy” couple for a moment. “Probably not long… You know how these things go.”

I wonder if she had a choice. The fiery little lion doesn’t strike me as an ideal match for a traditionalist such as Matteo Carroza. Another lie of omission? Rory never mentioned him when she was with us, but we’re not exactly besties. But I know I would have noticed if that trash had been hanging around the rink.

I keep my eyes locked on the Bratva princess. No longer a secret, claimed publicly by the Pakhan just in time for a speedyengagement.Convenient. Especially seeing as how Adrik must owe a ton of money to Ronan Volkov for him to send his men in after him the other night.

The man of the hour beams under all the attention. Always showing off. Image is everything to a man like Adrik Kostalov. I spy him shaking hands with a few men I recognize as city officials while puffing on a large cigar, fully in his glory.

I turn my attention back to Rory.I saw her see me.As soon as she walked in, as if she knew exactly where to look. She hasn’t looked this way since… And I haven’t been able to look anywhere else.

A radiant smile graces her face, but it’s not fooling me. The smile doesn’t reach her eyes. Eyes that are disturbingly vacant, devoid of the emotions she’s playing on her face. Her body is stiff in her fiancé’s arms, stealing every opportunity she can to put space between them.

Matteo’s irritation is clear in the way he keeps pulling her back to him. He’s all over her, almost as if he knows that if she were to get free of him, she just might bolt.

Rory remains stuck to her fiancé’s side for most of the night. All the way through dinner. That is, until after dessert, when Matteo leans in, speaking low into Rory’s ear. She nods, and he turns on his heel and leaves her standing there.

Alone.

Her shoulders fall forward, exhaustion clear on her face, finally out of the spotlight for a brief reprieve.

“I’ll be right back,” I say to Koen as I rise from my seat.

My brother just shakes his head, leaning back to fold his arms across his chest, the ghost of an expression on his face.

I follow Rory at a distance to the far corner of the room, where she picks around a dessert table.

I sidle up beside her. She’s unaware of my presence until I take her left hand in mine, lightly caressing the bare finger, theone second to the right. “What, he’s too cheap to spring for a ring?”

Rory freezes, her eyes on our interconnected hands before peeking up through her lashes to find my face. She rips her hand out of mine like I’d burned her with it. Her eyes scan the nearby area, nervous and frantic. Whatever she’s looking for, she doesn’t find it because she visibly deflates with relief. “Don’t touch me,” she hisses, eyes still scanning the room.

“You failed to mention your betrothed during our little adventure a few weeks back.”I move closer and she visibly stiffens.

“Adventure…” she scoffs. “Is that what you call it? Cause I can think of a few other words.” Her eyes finally slide back to mine and she lifts her perfect little nose in the air. “You never asked.” She goes back to searching the party until her eyes find her fiancé.

I follow her gaze to Matteo across the ballroom from us, engaged in deep conversation with Boston’s police commissioner.

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