Chapter 7
The alert flashes across my phone, and I quickly lift it from the island. After swiping it open, I read the headline again and skim through the article before saying anything.
It’s out. It barely took two days for the world to learn our fathers and that bastard Armenian are dead.
My heart thumps, a deep thud behind my ribs.
Not from fear—that weak shit left me a long time ago—but from the finality of this part of our plan.
We did it. We actually fucking did it. Our new empire starts now.
“It’s out,” I announce, lifting my phone to alert the others.
Cillian and Nikolai stop whatever ridiculous argument they’re having about the Knicks, and Eavan glances up from the couch, where she’s been doing her best to keep her face buried in a book, pretending to ignore me since her Peeping Tom moment earlier.
All of them are talking as they walk into the kitchen, so much chatter that I can’t make out what any of them are saying. “Everyone shut up,” I bark, laying my phone on the island. My thumb hovers over the play button as I wait for them to gather around it. “We all need to see this.”
The newscaster’s voice spills from the speaker and fills the kitchen the moment I press play.
“In what authorities are calling the hit of the century, four high-profile organized crime figureheads were found dead last night in an abandoned warehouse in Chelsea.” Images flash across the screen—out-of-focus shots of the crime scene from outside the police caution tape, the red and blue flashing lights of police cars, and then photos of the dead.
Tazio Roseti. Rurik Romanov. Rian O’Brien.
Andranik Sargsyan. Our fathers and the abhorrent excuse of a man who would’ve ruined Cian’s sister.
“Police are asking anyone with information regarding this crime to contact the NYPD Organized Crime Division. ”
I glance at the others. Nik is virtually unmoved, his face its usual unreadable mask.
Cillian’s jaw is tight, and the muscle in his cheek ticks as he continues to watch the broadcast on my phone.
But it’s Eavan’s gaze that has my attention.
Her wide green eyes—laced with panic—are flicking from the screen to each of us.
She’s gripping Cillian’s arm as though it’s a life preserver keeping her afloat.
Her hold on him tightens, and she stares up at him.
“Cian… Does this mean you’re all in danger now? Am I in danger?”
“You’re safe in here,” he promises. “Nothing will happen to you inside these walls.” She knew this moment was coming—we all told her. For a moment, even I want to comfort her. But right now, we have to stick to the plan.
“Call him.” I lift my phone from the granite countertop and shove it into Cillian’s hand. “Call him before he sees the news or hears it from anyone else.”
His fingers move quickly, dialing the number from memory.
He paces at the other end of the kitchen, waiting for the call to be answered.
“Davit Sargsyan? It’s Cillian O’Brien. Rian’s son.
” There’s a pause—all of us listening in silence—and Cillian’s voice softens.
“I’m sorry for the late call… And to be the one to tell you…
I just saw the news. My father had mentioned him a few times, and I wanted to offer my condolences for Andranik. ”
Lying through his teeth like a pro, he walks to the far window of the living room and stands with his back to us. All we can hear are his clipped responses to the new head of the Armenian mob on the other end .
“Yes, sir.”
“Eavan… My sister…”
“…Of course.”
“…Understood.”
“Tomorrow.”
He ends the call and holds the phone at his side as he stares at the city beyond the terrace. “Well?” I ask, too impatient to wait for him to divulge the details of his call.
Cillian turns slowly, running his fingers through his hair to smooth it back as he faces us. His eyes light up just a glimmer, and he smiles. “According to plan… Everything is going according to plan.”
“I’ll book our jet.” Nikolai gives a short nod.
“Maybe not entirely according to plan,” Cillian murmurs, his eyes falling on Eavan. “We can’t all go like we originally intended. Someone has to stay here with Eavan.”
“Yeah. You ,” she chimes quickly, overtly eyeing her brother.
Cillian tenses—knowing he has to deny her—but stands his ground. “It was our father’s deal. He was marrying you off. Out of the three of us, I have to go. I’m the only one Sargsyan will be expecting. And Nik… He’s the closest thing I have to a translator. So he has to go.”
That leaves… Cillian’s apologetic eyes meet mine, and I already know what he’s going to say before the words leave his mouth. “Enz, you have to stay behind. To keep an eye on Eavan. Just an eye.”
My jaw tightens as I look between them. Of course it would be me . I nod slowly and swallow hard, forcing down the hell no bobbing in my throat and struggling to come out.
Me. Alone. Stuck in this penthouse with the bratty, redheaded princess I can’t stop thinking about—who’d probably stab me in my sleep if she thought she could get away with it. Perfect.
I don’t even bother hiding the sigh that escapes my lungs. “Babysitting isn’t exactly what I signed up for, Cian.”
Across the room, Eavan makes a disgusted noise in her throat. “ Him ?” she hisses, gesturing at me like I’m some bum off the street. “You can’t be serious.”
“Oh, relax, princess,” I shoot back, unable to hide my smile. “I’m not thrilled about it either. But at least now we can finally get some quality alone time.”
Her eyes narrow, and she purses her lips, looking like she would throw something at me if there were anything within arm’s reach. “You mean the kind of alone time where you ogle my ass and make more comments about biting me?”
Yes…
“I only bite when asked nicely.”
“Ugh, gross.” She rolls her eyes, and I swear it’s because she knows the reaction it causes in me.
The bratty princess enjoys watching me rub my hand over the beard of my clenched jaw, fighting the urge to use it to correct that little attitude problem of hers.
A few handprints on that perfect ass… And she’ll learn to behave for me.
Cillian runs both hands over his face. “For fuck’s sake, can you two… just… not ?”
“I’m not the one ogling her when she gets out of the shower,” I mutter, just loud enough to be heard. Her face flushes immediately, and I swear her nostrils flare.
“I didn’t… That was… an accident !” she stammers. “You left the door wide open.”
“And yet, you stood there in the hallway and watched. You can admit you liked it,” I taunt her. “I won’t tell.” My grin spreads into a full smile as I wink at her.
“Cillian,” she growls, turning on her brother. “I swear to God, if you leave me with him?—”
“I’m sorry, but it’s the only way,” he apologizes, and I can tell he means it. And from the disapproving glare I’m currently on the receiving end of, I can almost hear the lecture I’m going to get about leaving his sister alone before he leaves.
Eavan doesn’t argue again. At least, not in front of the rest of us. But the look she throws at me as Nik and Cian leave the room, to make their travel plans, could set ice on fire.
I grab a bottle of water from the fridge and sprawl across the couch.
As I settle into the throw pillow behind my head, Eavan paces between the kitchen and the living room.
She chews on her thumbnail with every step, her whole body radiating annoyance.
She doesn’t say anything, and she tries to be discreet, but I can feel her eyes on me.
Glancing. Watching. Assessing. Probably wondering if she could sneak up on me to slit my throat before I caught her.
I take a sip of my water and place the bottle on the coffee table. Sitting up, I rest my forearms across my thighs and tilt my head toward her. “Are you going to be this much fun the whole time they’re gone?”
She stops stomping and glares at me with angered, emerald eyes and pouty pursed lips. “You know what?”
“No, princess. What?”
“You are not nearly as charming as you think you are.”
Yes. I am.
“Are you sure?” I tease. “Because you sure fucking blush when I talk to you. And you definitely keep staring at me.”
“It was an accident .”
Yeah… an accident. Just like I accidentally thought of her when I had my hand wrapped around my cock in the shower this morning. That was also totally an accident.
She crosses her arms and huffs, “I don’t trust you.”
“Good,” I exhale. My comment throws her for a second, and she blinks in confusion.
Watching her carefully, I lean back onto the couch.
“Because you shouldn’t, even if your brother does.
” Even if he shouldn’t. Because, fuck, right now even I don’t trust myself.
And her brother is only a few rooms away.
Following his one rule is going to be a grave undertaking when he’s halfway around the world.
And I’ve always been shit at following rules. “Good,” I exhale.
“And I don’t like you,” she snarks, ever so slightly biting her lower lip. She’s cute when she lies.
“Funny thing about that…” I rise from the couch and quickly cross the room to where she’s standing. Her eyes roam up my chest and to my face as I tower over her. “ I never said you liked me, princess.”