Chapter 20 Octavian
OCTAVIAN
Igrip the steering wheel hard as I drive in silence through Boston.
The rearview mirror gives me another perfect view of her. She's completely unaware that I've glanced at her more times than I care to admit.
It's been eleven times, I think. Of course I know.
I watch how the light hits her red hair, how it slips across her cheek when she tilts her head. She's scrolling, maybe texting, I don't know, but I'm watching her.
I adjust in my seat and force my eyes back to the road.
This is getting worse.
I stared too long at the café. The woman she met with definitely clocked it. I felt her watching me watch Keira.
I rub my forehead.
Gone are the days when I treated jobs like this as routine. Babysitting is what I used to call it. Easy money. Guard the rich girl, keep her from doing anything stupid, pocket the paycheck, and move on. Easy money and no complications.
But now, with this woman in my backseat, I'm noticing more than I should.
Like how she moves. How she talks with her hands when she's passionate. The way she bites her lip when she's unsure. How her voice drops when she's lying, not lying to others, but to herself. How her hands shake when she's scared but won't admit it.
And her damn scent, too.
I swear I've started to smell her even when she's not in the room. It's something soft, expensive, and completely fucking intoxicating. I've been ruined by it. I walked out of the gym the other day when she was there with a hard cock and nowhere to put it.
I'm losing myself in her, and I don't know how to stop.
The lines are blurring. I can't tell anymore if I'm protecting her because I'm paid to or because she's mine and I'd rather die than let someone else touch her.
I turn left onto her street and steal one more look in the mirror. Her legs are crossed, foot bouncing gently as she types something on her screen.
How the fuck can some woman in Boston manage to be so beautiful it makes a man reckless, while wielding a fire that would burn you alive, and you'd still want to be consumed by her?
I shake my head as I pull into the driveway and turn off the car.
She doesn't move right away. Just finishes whatever she's typing, then glances up and catches my eyes in the mirror.
For a second, neither of us looks away.
"Sorry," she says, clearing her throat and putting her phone away.
She opens the door herself before I can get around to help her, and I follow her inside, my gaze dropping too low.
"I'm going to be in my office for a bit. Do some work," she says, pulling out her phone again.
"Okay," I say. "I'll be around."
She turns and smiles at me, then heads straight for her office, and I catch myself watching the curve of her ass as she walks.
Fuck.
I need a cold shower. Or maybe a fight. Something physical to sweat this obsession out of me.
I walk into the kitchen, grab a water bottle, and down it, wishing it was homemade ?uica, because that would give me the burn and ammo needed to forget things.
I walk outside and check the perimeter. I don't need to, but I do.
In reality, I'm trying to keep down that part of me that wants to go into her office, find an excuse to talk to her, but she'd see through that in a second. Keira's too sharp. Too perceptive. She'd probably call me on it, and I don't know what the hell I'd say.
So I walk back inside and stand in the kitchen again, hands in my pockets, jaw tight, and remind myself that I'm here to keep her alive.
Not to—
Before I can spiral any further, my phone buzzes in my jacket pocket.
I pull it out and glance at the screen.
Nicolae Ionescu.
My uncle and Don of the most powerful mafia family in Romania.
I step into the empty guest room down the hall, closing the door behind me before answering.
"Da?"
"How's it going in America?" he asks in English, his voice deep and gravelly with age and arrogance.
"Good," I say.
"What have you learned?"
I lower my voice and move farther into the room. "You mean about the Morrígan?"
"That's what the ten million was for," he snaps.
"Nothing," I say flatly. "They set a bomb off. Almost killed her, and me."
There's a pause.
"So the threat's real, huh?"
"Yeah."
Nicolae exhales slowly.
"Well, we need something, Octavian. Like I told you before you left Romania, these Morrígans are after this Killaney family. They've been hitting them hard, leaving black feathers around. They want something. Probably power. Maybe vengeance. Doesn't matter. What matters is leverage."
"I know," I say. "Haven't seen any feathers."
"Well, find something," Nicolae snaps. "We uncover this, take care of it, and the Killaneys owe us. Enzo Bonventi signs off and brings us in. Expansion, Octavian. You know what that would mean for not just us, but you too. You're family."
I lean against the wall, staring at nothing. "I do."
"Think of all that we've done for you. For your mother and keeping her safe. What we did to those people who killed your brother."
"I haven't forgotten," I say through a clenched jaw.
There's a pause on his end.
"Now listen, we've got word that they may try and take her."
I straighten up, pushing off the wall. "What?"
"If they do," he pauses again, "let it happen."
The air leaves my lungs.
"What?"
"Let it happen," Nicolae repeats, slower this time.
"I've never lost a client," I say, my tone firm.
"Who cares about your reputation?" His tone sharpens. "This is bigger. Let her be taken. Find out who does it. That'll be the leader. You call me, I broker the takedown, you get them, and clean house. We win."
My hand tightens around the phone. "And Keira?"
"The girl? Your package?" He laughs, short and cold. "Who cares. This is our way into the U.S. She's not your problem unless you make her one. Just get it done. Do the job."
He wants me to sit back and watch. To let her scream while I wait for leverage. My jaw locks and I don't answer.
"Don't disappoint me," he continues. "We'll send you more intel as we get it.
Remember who's really paying you here, Octavian.
You do this, I'll give you more money than you could ever imagine.
You'll never need to do anything again. Find a nice girl, buy a yacht, fuck on the deck all day.
I'll make that happen for you. Just do what you need to do. "
Then he hangs up, and I stand in silence, staring at the phone in my hand.
I love my uncle. As much as you can, given our history and his ruthlessness in the mafia world. I've never wanted to harm him.
But when he disregarded Keira, reduced her to a "package," a thing, I wanted to fly back to Romania just to break his fucking neck.
I pocket the phone and lean back against the wall, my breath coming harder than it should.
Let her be taken.
The words repeat in my head like a taunt.
I've spent weeks keeping her alive. Watching her. Knowing her better than she knows herself. I've killed for her, and Nicolae wants me to just let it happen.
I start pacing the length of the room, my hands curling into fists.
This was supposed to be simple. Protect her, get paid, and go home. But nothing about Keira is simple.
She's burrowed under my skin like a splinter I can't pull out.
What the fuck am I going to do?
If I do what Nicolae asks, Keira gets hurt. If I don't, I betray my family.
But I don't know if I can do it, and I don't know if I can betray Nicolae.
Shit, I don't even know if I can keep my hands off her much longer.
AllI know that what I promised to do before I came here, the man I was before boarding the plane, is not the same man. If anything happens to Keira I don't know if I can forgive myself.
I feel like I'm standing at the edge of something I can't come back from.
And when I fall, it's going to destroy me.