Chapter 5 – Liam
Ablack kernel of wrath vibrated in the middle of my chest. Too much had happened, and we hadn’t been here more than forty minutes.
Normally, my head was crystal, and I could dissect the intricacies of the situation with quick, efficient movements.
I knew we were walking into a hornet’s nest tonight.
If our men were pissed that we were joining forces with the Italians, those hot-blooded Morelli sonsofbitches were worse. We no sooner piled out of the car than the unguarded looks were tossed our way. I had the urge to draw my weapon. Give myself that extra second before the blood spilt.
We walked into the backyard, so pretty, like a postcard from Tuscany, and wholly out of place for a Northern climate like New England. And what waited for me in the bed of bleeding roses? Venus herself, come down to toy with the broken shell of a man that I was.
I hated Deluca’s daughter on sight. Unlike when I caught a glimpse in the restaurant a few nights ago, she stood next to the flowers in all her glory.
Nut-brown hair, smooth and shiny. Honey eyes the color of an aged whiskey.
And that body. It was the thing of fantasy.
Curves in the right places, toned, long legs in dainty little heels that made me mad with want.
She wasn’t dressed provocatively to cause such an burst of fire through me.
She didn’t have to. I was burnt just from that first look.
The second? Recognition slapped me in the face.
It was the eyes. The way they steeled against me, flashing determination and defiance.
Gabriella Deluca was the mystery girl from the streets.
What the fuck a capo’s daughter was doing wandering alone after dark, let alone working that late at night, was beyond me. I was under the impression that Made Men treated their women like royalty. And yet this little princess pretended to be as down to earth as I was.
Our first exchange wasn’t good. Instead of giving her my full attention, I was keenly aware of what a violent brute I must seem. So I didn’t face her—much. And then there were the rumbles of dissent from the men.
I was going to kick the living shite out of them for daring to behave like savages.
If Connor had been here, he would have wrangled them into better behavior while Da and I were forced to endure small talk with our hosts.
But he was off, sulking near the capo’s house, trying to set up a surveillance system since Deluca and his wife weren’t home.
He’d texted that there were too many kids for him to break inside, but he’d manage.
No, with Connor gone, there were few lads to choose from. We’d handpicked our entourage so we didn’t seem like pagan barbarians in front of the cultured don and his wife.
Fat lot of good that did.
And then…I caught James and Johny-boy skulking in the bleein’ hall. If they thought that they could trap my girl…..
My hands tightened into fists. I stepped into the dining room, with a table set for sixteen, and swept a look around. It didn’t matter that they were my second cousins once removed on my mother’s side. Those boys were dead.
“Liam, a word,” Da said quietly, stepping in front of me.
I met his smile with my scowl. “Sir?”
“I’ve spoken with the lads about their behavior outside.
If they step a toe out of line, you have my blessin’ to haul them out of dinner and toss them on the lawn to deal with later.
” He smoothed a freckled hand down his tie.
“After tonight, you’ll have to work hard to smooth things over with them.
I don’t want them fucking up this alliance. ”
My shoulders relaxed a fraction. “Consider it done.”
“Fecking eejits,” he grumbled. “I’m just glad your ma isn’t here to see it.”
Da led the way to the table, sitting to the don’s right.
The underboss, Salvatore Deluca sat directly across from him, which put me across from the capo, Carlo Messina.
Matteo Deluca and the soldiers were placed in the following seats.
Which left the women at the foot of the table.
At least Gabriella was safely wedged between her mother and sister.
Good.
No man would sit beside her.
I was surprised with the surge of possessiveness. She was barely betrothed to me, and yet I wanted to pluck her from the table and carry her out of here. Away from the looks the men—both Italian and Irish—sent her way.
The tension at the table only increased as the dinner was served.
Don Morelli, his underboss, and my father carried on the bulk of the conversation. Threads of light, feminine conversation floated from the other end of the table.
I stabbed a leaf of salad. Oil dripped as I lifted it. The vinegar’s bite didn’t hide the bitterness. It wasn’t my usual fare. No steak, no potatoes. Nothing hardy. But still, I ate. Politeness was a talent I could pretend to have.
As I braced myself for another mouthful of the godless greenery, a light noise shimmered through the room. The laughter was the sound of angel wings. My fork stilled in the air, food poised outside my mouth as my gaze shifted down the table. I knew before I saw that it was her.
Only an immortal being made music like that when she was happy.
And suddenly, I wanted it.
That sound.
I wanted to be the one who provoked it. I wanted it to be mine. The realization that she was destined to walk down the aisle in a few weeks settled in my mind.
Gabriella wasn’t delicate.
She was rare.
And I was the lucky bastard who was going to put my mark on her. Men like me didn’t earn the status of heroes. We took the worst life threw at us, sipped our whiskey, and survived. But this time, life was handing her to me.
She’s mine.
The moment was stained a beat later when I saw that it was the fucker sitting on the other side of her sister that provoked the sweet strain of music.
He leaned closer, gaze fixed on my girl.
He knew her. Of course, he knew her. The air around them reeked of familiarity.
The craic was damn near tangible. The fecker grinned at the girls—at her.
The other women smiled and laughed, and I couldn’t care less that he was amusing them with whatever story he regaled them with. It was that he made her laugh.
The sound settled somewhere deep in my chest.
Possession followed a heartbeat later.
I shook myself and shoved the bite of food into my maw.
I knew what I looked like. I wasn’t a man who deserved beautiful things.
Even if I wasn’t burnt and ruined, my soul was pitch black, my heart a husk, and my desire wicked and violent.
But at least I could hide behind the pretty face I’d been blessed with.
Since that was no longer an option, I wore my sins in public.
I wasn’t a man worthy of a goddess, but that wasn’t going to stop me from taking her.
And living with the consequences.
James muttered something and the men on our side laughed.
The Italians shifted uncomfortably.
I hadn’t been paying attention, too consumed with the idea of a future where I brought the rare beauty into the shadows of my world. The nudge under the table from my father’s knee warned me that I wasn’t doing my job.
Opening my ears, I listened.
“If they start sending their daughters our way, we’ll show ‘em a grand time,” Johnny agreed, pushing his untouched salad away.
A maid scurried forward, plucked it, and darted back before he could strike.
I set my fork down. There were too many utensils at the place setting. It had seemed unnecessary when we first sat down, but now I took my time examining them.
“I volunteer as tribute,” James snorted, tipping his head toward the Deluca sisters.
Across the table, Gabriella laughed again. This time, the strain was laced with defiance.
James kept talking. He had no right to sit in the same room as that sound.
A cord deep in my chest snapped taut. That laughter belonged to me.
Even the mirth tinged with mockery wasn’t something my cousin should have. He’d dared to bully Gabriella in the hall. She wasn’t his. What did it say about me to let him breathe the same air as her? My fingers curled around one of the pieces of silver. It was time to remedy that mistake.
“Don, if you’ll excuse me, I have a matter that needs attention,” I said quietly. My words cut through their conversation like the crack of a whip.
Morelli swiveled his gaze toward me, barely nodding and mumbling assent before I slid my seat back. Slowly. The chair legs scraped against the wood.
The conversations wavered.
The pause pulsed through the grand space.
Wary glances shot in my direction as I moved. I paid them no heed. My feet carried me in the direction of the door before I turned suddenly.
Three steps.
Then my fingers curled in the long, ashen locks of my kinsman. “Apologies for the mess, Missus Morelli,” I murmured to the hostess.
James’s eyes went wide.
A hand shot up to stop me.
Too late.
I slid the steak knife across James’s thick throat.
His flesh split like butter. Blood spewed across the tablecloth from the severed vein, while more of it poured down his front.
As a chorus of shouts rang out, I shoved his head forward, slamming it into the table.
It hid the smaller motion of plucking the slip of gold chain from the fleshy mess.
The chain popped easily, and my fingers curled around it.
“Liam,” Da groaned.
“There will be no more disrespecting our new allies,” I warned, words low and cold. I switched to Gaeilge to add, “And if I hear your names near hers, I’ll erase them. She’s not for you. She’s mine.”
All mine.
I’d known it the moment she laughed.
Silence echoed through the dining room.
In its wake, I risked a look. I had no idea why my chest tightened at the idea of meeting her gaze. But I couldn’t fucking breathe as I did.
Those honey brown eyes were blown wide. The black of her pupils swallowed nearly all the warmth.
Gabriella didn’t shake. She didn’t tremble.
Shite. She was watching me. And suddenly, the room felt smaller.
Intimacy shivered between us. Like we were the only two souls.
Most people would have looked away. Gabriella didn’t.
But she didn’t smile.
That bothered me more than the blood. I killed a man for stealing her laughter like he tried to take the chain around her throat. Now she knew what I was capable of.
If she was smart, she would flee.
It was a good thing I wasn’t going to give her the chance.
“Well, I suppose dinner will have to wait.” Mrs. Morelli set her napkin on the table. “If you want to join me in the front parlor, I’ll see if we can have dessert while the men clean this up.”
The don’s wife was a true underworld queen. Unphased by the violence and bloodshed that plagued our lives. I wondered if my bride was made of the same stern stuff.
My question was answered a moment later when Gabriella rose to join her, followed meekly by her mother and sister, both looking green. The same affliction didn’t affect my Roman goddess. Her color was as beautiful as ever.
Those warm, whiskey eyes flicked in my direction.
Slowly, they shifted. She scanned the scene. I swore I saw her pulse hammering in her throat. But then…those amber-flecked irises slid back to mine.
She didn’t look away.
Saints above.
There was a cruelty in wanting something so pure when my hands were dirty. I didn’t care. I would wash them before I touched her.