Page 15 of Morally Black Betrothal
I shot Ronan a glare that would have cut any man down a foot, but he just kicked one sneakered foot over the other and grinned. He wasn’t even a little fazed. If anything, all my siblings looked ready for a challenge.
For a second, it was like we were all back in South Boston, brothers constantly pitted against each other in the backyard. The three of us were boxing as soon as we could walk, and Dad used to make us spar behind the house before we left the old neighborhood. He’d even call over his friends to watch. Strongarm the neighbors into placing bets like he was still a two-bit bookie and not one of the wealthiest men in the neighborhood.
The money was never the point. The point was dominance. Learning to fight. Learning to win.
I decided to change the subject. “Should we be preparing for nurses at his house for when he comes home?”
“Let’s just wait and see right now,” said the doctor. “We’ll know more in a few hours.”
“He should wake up soon, then?” Violeta asked. She checked the gold watch hanging from her wrist, and I would bet my stock portfolio she was wondering if she could take the helicopter back to New York for another show before he woke up.
“That’s correct,” Dr. Jenkins replied.
Violeta just barely managed to hide her disappointment. “I’ll wait, then. I want to be here when he wakes up.” She nodded firmly, like she was convincing herself, then spoke to Shea in Spanish—something sheknewdrove the rest of us crazy.
Shea glanced at each of us, her cheeks red. “Sure, Mom. I can do that.”
“Lemme guess, Mommy needs her ‘special medicines’ to get through her day?” Ronan snickered. “Is it benzos or barbs? You know you shouldn’t mix meds, Vi. Dad won’t want to wake up to a zombie bride?—”
“Qué te den,” Violeta snapped.
I didn’t need Spanish to recognize the insult.
“I just need a change of clothes,” she went on in English. “Forty thousand ostrich feathers on this dress. I can’t sit for more than thirty minutes without crushing them.”
“Huh. I would have guessed flamingo,” Ronan remarked.
Even I had a hard time not chuckling at that one. Liam just slapped his forehead while Owen stared out the window, his mouth twitching too. Shea looked like she was torn between agreeing with Ronan and wanting to beat him up.
“It’scouture,” Violeta told him. “All of you look like bankers. It’s like you don’t even care about the family business.”
Every single sibling in the room—even Shea—rolled their eyes. Yes, Blackguard had recently bought a large share of the Savage Fashion conglomerate in New York on top of plenty of other luxury industries we were heavily invested in. But thatdidn’t mean we cared about any of it. And if you didn’t know that Violeta hadn’t been born into the world of extreme wealth, her adoration of stupid shit like labels, flashy handbags, and pink fucking feathers gave it away. The woman owned more Birkins than a Saudi Arabian shah’s wife (despite the fact that Hermes was owned by our competitor).
What the fuck was she carrying in them, a bowling ball? That’s what assistants were for.
The loudest secret in the world of real money: don’t stand out. You can make a fuck lot more cash if no one notices you doing it.
The doctor cleared his throat. “I’ll be back as soon as he wakes. If you have any other questions, ask the nurse on duty, and they’ll let me know.” He left the room looking relieved to be done with us.
Exhaustion washed over me. It had been a long day. Meeting after meeting, a failed negotiation for a company I knew Dad wanted to acquire, and now this.
But when I saw Mac wave Liza Kelly through the door, I knew my day had just gotten a lot longer.
Liza, our CFO and Liam’s mother, was one of the few people in my life who justwas. With her knife-sharp intellect and no-nonsense demeanor, she’d been my father’s right-hand since before I was born. Honestly, she was probably the only woman he’d ever been able to tolerate for more than sex and compliments, and she was more of a mother to my brothers and me than our own mothers ever were.
Liza was also a shark, and she made zero apologies for it.
“Is he going to be okay?” she asked after I returned her perfunctory air kiss.
Her low voice made me realize that none of us had been whispering until now. Instead, we’d been talking like we alwaysdid—at the top of our voices, like we were in a boardroom. In the middle of the goddamn ICU.
It was the Black family way: boom until everyone else breaks.
“Not if Brendan has anything to do with it,” Owen answered. His eyes met mine—murder for murder.
It had to be a sin to hate your own blood this much, but sometimes I really did.
“He should be all right,” I told her.
