Page 104 of Arranged Obsession
“Drink?” Seamus gives me a little wink and pours some whiskey from the bottle. “On the house.”
“Appreciate it.” I take a sip and watch my father. He frowns back at me, not speaking. Our relationship’s been strained ever since I took over for Finn while my little brother gets away with everything, mostly because he’s such a charming bastard.
“Good of you to show,” Dad says after the silence gets a little too oppressive.
“I know how to follow orders.”
Dad’s eyebrows raise. “Do you now? Wouldn’t have guessed it.”
I bristle but say nothing.
Finn looks around. “Should we arm wrestle or something? Maybe strip off our shirts and street fight until we stamp out this—” He gestures vaguely in the air. “You know, this tension shit?”
“You’d just get your ass kicked,” Seamus says with a smirk. “You know damn well you don’t have a good right hook.”
“Don’t need one when I’m breaking your nose with my jab.”
“Can’t break my nose if you can’t touch it.”
“Boys,” Declan says, sounding tired, like this is the thousandth little argument he’s broken up today. “Enough dick-measuring.”
“Why, don’t like how you’re stacking up?” Seamus asks brightly.
I watch my brothers banter for a little while. Dad’s leaned back, letting them get it out of their system, idly sipping his whiskey and studying me. I try my best to ignore him. I know I’ve never been on the inside of our family, but now it feels like I’m a total stranger.
All because I needed to marry Bianca.
I’d do it again, if given the choice. I’d do it a thousand times over. Taking Finn’s place was the best thing I’ve ever done in my miserable life.
“Let’s get to business,” Dad says, leaning forward over the table. “Declan, you start it.”
Declan clears his throat, glaring at Seamus. “There has been street chatter lately. The Morozov Bratva is gearing up for something. We have a feeling they’re arming for a direct confrontation.”
“War’s in the air,” Seamus agrees.
“There hasn’t been an outright street fight between crime families in New York in a long time.” Declan’s usually dour face somehow gets even more annoyed. “We’ve learned from bitter experience that slaughtering each other isn’t good for anyone’s bottom line. Too much police involvement and media attention. And if the politicians get involved? Life couldn’t get worse. Better to have small, targeted attacks, killings that don’t float above minor local interest.”
“But that’s not what’s happening with the Morozovs,” Seamus says, rapping a knuckle on the table. “Fuckers gotguns. I’m talking serious firepower.”
“And we all know why. They’re terrified.” Dad leans forward, staring at me. “For good reason too.”
I feel their attention. I cross my arms, unwilling to wilt beneath it. “They shouldn’t have tried to kill my wife. They brought this on themselves.”
Dad’s voice is soft and dangerous. “You brought it on by fucking up the very first kill. That wasn’t like you, Cormac.”
I meet his gaze. My jaw works, but I have nothing to say in my defense. Because he’s right. I was distracted by Bianca and trying to rush what should’ve been a much more careful, meticulously planned strike. I was sloppy and stupid.
“Our Ghostman here has been perfect for a long time,” Seamus says suddenly, banging a glass down to get everyone’s attention. “Are we really going to hang him foronemistake? After thousands of successful missions?”
I blink in surprise. I didn’t expect anyone to take my side in this, much less Seamus. But it almost makes sense. Of everyone here, he spends the most time on the ground. He knows how difficult my job can be.
But still, Seamus has a lot to lose. He can’t outright cross my father. If he does, he could lose his position, and that would be very bad for him personally.
“He’s exceptionally skilled, nobody’s questioning that,” Declan says, almost grudgingly, but still. Was that a compliment from my stodgy older brother? It’s hard to believe what I’m hearing.“We’ve benefited greatly from his good work for a very long time.”
“Totally agree with you both,” Finn adds with a shrug. “For what that’s worth.”
Dad grunts and we lock eyes. I want to be angry that I’m being singled out like this, but it’s strangely touching the way my brothers came to my defense. While they’re not outright saying Dad’s wrong to blame me, they’re getting just about close enough. And it’s more than I ever expected.
