Page 60 of Watch Me, Daddy

“A fight? Why shouldn’t I just kill you right here, right now?” he rumbled.

“That’s too easy for you. No one would get to see your glory,” I replied.

For a long moment, I saw him contemplate my offer, likely imagining what it would feel like to sink his knife into my throat in front of all his soldiers, how much respect and fame it would garner him to kill a member of the infamous Murphy family here in Boston. I could see him teetering, and I went ahead and pushed him full tilt.

I knew it would be a temptation he couldn’t refuse.

“And if you don’t, I won’t stop until I tear down everything you’ve built. Your empire will crumble, and you’ll be left with nothing,” I replied, my voice dropping to a dangerous level.

“And if I win?” Anton replied, his smile widening, his gaze unyielding. His cockiness was written all over his face. He was already counting his winnings before the fight even began.

“Then you can have all the power you want. But you’ll leave Irina out of it. She’s off-limits.” I demanded, the challenge burning brightly between us. He studied me for a moment, the tension thick in the air.

“Very well, Kozlov. A fight it is. Winner takes all.”

Raw adrenaline coursed through my veins as I stood up. I offered my hand, and he took it, shaking it with strength, power, and sheer, utter arrogance.

“Agreed,” he rasped, the sound of his voice sending a shiver of disgust down my spine.

“Want to take this into the other room?”

“Definitely,” he snarled. He grinned, his eyes already glimmering with his victory before he’d even had a chance to earn it.

Fucking asshole. He was going to die today.

He left the office first and I followed.

The atmosphere in the bar shifted as Anton and I entered the main hall, the low hum of conversation fading into an anticipatory hush. His soldiers, a mix of burly men with hardened expressions, all watched with keen interest. I could feel their eyes on us, their presence an added weight to the tension building between us.

Anton and I stood a few paces apart, facing each other in the center of the room. The flickering light of dim bulbs cast elongated shadows on the walls, lending an eerie glow to the scene. The scent of old wood, smoke, and alcohol was suffocating.

“There’s a special show tonight, boys,” Anton snarled. “Meet Aidan Murphy. He’s here to fight for Irina’s honor.”

His men chuckled, the sound low and enraging. I gritted my teeth and fisted my hands at my side, barely restraining myself from slugging him across the face.

“That bitch was a whore,” someone called out, and I couldn’t help but growl with fury.

“Don’t speak about her that way,” I warned.

“Aidan here has challenged me to a fight, one on one.”

The soldiers laughed more openly now. I could see the looks on their faces. They knew of Anton’s reputation.

But they didn’t know about mine.

In the intricate dance of power within my family, I had carved out a role that was unmistakably mine: the muscle. It was a role I embraced, a way to contribute to the legacy of the Murphy name. One instance vividly stood out in my mind, one that showcased how my strength and determination had secured a lucrative acquisition for the family, a gentleman’s club that doubled as a gambling den for the rich and famous of Boston.

The club had been a coveted prize, a prime piece of real estate that promised not only substantial income but also a strategic advantage in our intricate dealings. My brother, Kieran, had tasked me with ensuring its acquisition—a task that required not just my physical prowess, but also a shrewd understanding of the game.

He’d chosen the right person for the job.

When I had stood outside the dimly lit establishment, the sounds of laughter and clinking glasses had spilled into the street. I had known that behind those doors lay power and opportunity, and I was determined to make it ours. With a sense of purpose, I had walked in the front door, my presence immediately commanding the attention of everyone inside.

The air had been thick with the scent of smoke and the undercurrent of risk. I had done my research, and I had known the owner was a formidable figure who wouldn’t part with his establishment easily. We exchanged words, each sentence a calculated move in a high-stakes game, but it soon became clear that I had the upper hand.

It wasn’t long before words gave way to action. A tense confrontation escalated, and before I knew it, the room erupted into chaos. Fists flew, furniture toppled, and the very foundations of the establishment seemed to shake. In the heart of the mayhem, I faced off against the owner himself.

In the end, it was my unyielding determination and strength that tipped the scales in our favor. With one final, decisive blow, I left the owner reeling and the gambling house effectively under our control. It was a defining moment that solidified my position as the family’s muscle, a role I embraced with a mixture of pride and a sense of duty.

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