Chapter 42 – Liam
“Boss isn’t looking to have his funds tied up for eighteen months while you play with your tools and trucks,” Igor stated, spinning his glass of vodka around.
If your boss bothered to attend the meeting in the first place— I bit my tongue to keep from lashing out at the fool.
“These numbers are astonishing,” Pierre murmured and shifted the papers in front of him. “You have quite the business here, Mr. McDonagh.”
Every time one of these eejits opened their mouth, a veiled insult came at me. I’d never heard them be this disrespectful with my father. But I knew tonight’s meeting would be a test. They wanted to know if our organization was strong enough to continue the interests of the underworld.
We were.
“That piece of paper is just an empty promise.” Igor threw back his drink. “Boss is going to need something more tangible.”
I flexed my gloved fingers over my knee. “Meaning?”
The glint in Igor’s eye was a trap. “We didn’t know you were so eager to get married. There were much better offers out there.”
“Yes, and who are the Morellis?” Pierre chimed in.
One of the lackeys chuckled.
Connor and Seamus should have been here. But the latter was running the third shift at the construction site, and the former had been on his way when his course was rerouted to tail my wife.
Just the thought of Gabriella leaving the house made my skin crawl. I resisted the urge to check my phone. The bleeding device was a stone, weighing down the inner pocket of my suite jacket.
“The Morellis are none of your concern,” I informed the arms dealer.
Pierre lifted his hands in submission. It was only for show. He knew damn well who and what that organization was: another joke to laugh at me over when he returned to his chateau for a glass of stuffy, sour, fermented grape juice.
Igor drummed his fingers on the table. “Boss has a niece. Pretty little thing. Sings and dances. If you were interested in a change of alliances—”
“I’m not.”
The twitchy fucker glared at me. “It doesn’t have to be a divorce. We could make it look like an accident.”
I leaned forward, rising slightly out of my seat. “My personal relationships are not up for discussion.”
And the representative of the bratva was perilously close to having his forehead decorated with a teeny, tiny hole for breathing threats about my wife.
“What my savage friend is so indelicately suggesting is that there are always opportunities if you choose to consider them.” Pierre swept a hand through the air. “But let’s return to more friendly topics. Is there any chance we can invest in the current build?”
“No,” I growled. “You had that chance last year.”
Pierre sighed dramatically. “Yes, and we were foolish not to take your father up on it. But, is there a possibility you can start this—” he tapped a slim finger on the papers “—project immediately?”
Did the eejit think I was magic? I took my mother’s advice and breathed deeply before answering. Think twice, speak once, and all that.
The door to the conference room burst open.
The lackeys shot from their chairs, ready to defend their superiors. I was about to yell at the pieces of meat and forbid the muscle from acting stupidly in my place of work because there was no way in hell there was a threat here, when I caught the scent of strawberries.
It happened quickly.
I shifted my gaze. My heart stopped beating.
It was her.
She was here.
And the look on her face made the devil inside burn with a killing rage.
Igor said something that made her wince. I didn’t catch it over the roaring of my pulse in my ear. The feeble organ in my chest had come back to life with vengeance.
“Gabriella.” I wanted to reach for her. Wrap her in my arms. Shield her from whatever terror drove her to my doorstep.
You’re safe, little bird.
I prayed to any saint listening she saw the promise in my eyes.
But no, hers were wild. Unfocused. Gabriella glanced at me, then shrank against the thick glass door as if it would shield her.
Her voice fucking trembled. “I need to talk to you.”
“I’m listening,” I whispered under my breath.
The billion-dollar deal became inconsequential in an instant. The chess game of moving illegal capital, of washing dirty money, didn’t matter. There was only her.
“Little girl,” Pierre said in that nasally voice, “we’re in a meeting.”
Yes, a meeting that fucking ended the moment she came. My wife needed me. Business would wait. That was how things worked.
I stopped myself from rising, realizing that I needed to command the situation from a place of authority. My arms ached to hold her, but these eejits would see any public display of affection as a weakness.
My molars ground together with enough force to crack.
“Either come and suck my dick,” Igor laughed, “or get the fuck out.”
And the bratva captain just signed his death warrant.
“Get out,” I barked.
My words had the opposite effect.
Gabriella shrank into the door. She took a tentative step back, but her wild gaze landed on me. She was so fucking strong. The fight kept her there, kept her from darting away. There was a plea swirling in those whiskey depths.
The black, thundering organ in my chest answered it.
Whatever she needed, I was here. I would destroy any threat, drain my accounts to pay the price, or just…hold her.
The men at the table didn’t move fast enough.
I realized too late the confusion. Words tangled in my throat as the explanation that I meant her to stay and the underworld players to go couldn’t come out fast enough.
“Now,” I snarled. “I said, this meeting’s done.”
Gabriella stopped. Her chest rose as she inhaled sharply.
There was no force strong enough to take my eyes off her. “My wife needs me.”
The men finally took the hint. They rose, shuffling their papers, and made an unhurried retreat out the other door.
“Igor?” I snapped.
The fucker looked back over his shoulder.
“If you ever speak that way to her again, it will be the last thing you do,” I promised. He would pay for his words. But that could wait. Everything would wait until Gabriella felt safe and I managed to calm her down.
The bratva captain’s eyes narrowed to slits. “I’d like to see you try, little boy.”
My molars clashed, and I forced my mouth to stay closed until they were all gone. The less said, the better. Igor was a problem for another day.
A ragged breath left my lips. “Come in.”
The look on my wife’s face was full of caution. Jaysus, would she quick fucking trembling? Didn’t she know I wasn’t going to hurt her? I shot from my seat, forcing myself to move away. Gabriella needed space.
I gave her a few bleeding yards, going to the bar cart to pour us both a drink.
Mine slid down my gullet like water. I didn’t taste the smokey tones or enjoy the fiery burn. The city beyond the window continued to blink at me, taunting me with the knowledge that it knew what happened while I’d been shut in this room instead of with her.
I forced myself to be quiet. Not to demand the story from her until she was ready. Only when I had a feeble control over myself did I turn and move into her space.
“Here.” I plopped the tumbler in her hand.
It was so small.
So easily crushed.
I stopped myself from touching it.
With jerky, halting movements, Gabriella lifted the beverage to her lips. She mechanically sipped the double pour.
“You don’t have to look so frightened,” I whispered before I could stop myself.
She choked.
Cursing myself, I took a long step back. And then another. Until my back hit the table, and I sank onto it, anchoring myself to the furniture to keep from invading her space.
Gabriella shuddered and wiped her lips with the back of that tender, soft paw.
The pain of waiting finally found relief.
My beautiful wife squared her shoulders and faced me. “My father beat and raped my mother tonight.”
It was a good thing I was sitting, or I would have stumbled.
My mind scrambled to process that data. It wasn’t unheard of for brutal fucks to do horrendous things.
Under the guise of marriage, it was a cheater’s way to justify the vile acts.
Mobsters were no different than citizens when it came to evil.
“You were there? At their house?” I clarified.
Jaysus, Mary, and Joseph, what if he’d done it in front of her?
I had another mini heart attack, but Gabriella shook her head.
“My sister called.” She coughed and reached for the door, looking absently at the empty tumbler of whiskey as if wishing for more. “Ella didn’t know until recently what our father was capable of. She was going to stop him, so I had to go. He can’t start hitting her too.”
The next words out of my mouth were calm. Icy. Deadly. “Has he ever hit you?”
Gabriella let out a rough laugh. “Not since I’ve been married, no.”
The space between us crackled with a surge of black energy.
There was no power on earth that would save Matteo Deluca.
“And you’re just telling me now?” I didn’t mean to hiss.
Gabriella winced, leaning toward the metal U door handle. “It didn’t matter, and—”
“It mattered.” I sucked in a breath that did nothing to calm the killing rage. “It matters, Gabriella.”
Pursing her lips, she pulled away from the door. Three quick steps, and she dropped the tumbler on the table beside me.
“No, the past is done. Out of our control. What matters is right now.” She leaned forward, determination etched in every inch of that gorgeous face. “You have to stop him. You have to help them!”
My brows pulled together. “Help them? Who?”
“My sisters!” Gabriella lifted her hands. “My mother.”
I saw it then. This goddess, full of an unearthly fire, was ready for war.
Which was exactly what she was asking me to consider.
Can I?
Who was I to refuse her? While my mind raced for a solution, my heart was already made up. It had been, all along. Whatever she asked, it was hers.
I would kill her father.