Chapter Twenty-Seven
BOSTON, MASSACHUSETTS
E katerina had promised she could explain, but the ride home had been spent with her alternating between fake, alligator tears and more lies.
Here I was forcing myself to... My thoughts ceased to exist in that moment as fucking the deceitful little bitch was nothing I had to force myself to do, as much as I oftentimes wished that it was.
Still, I had been fucking her night and day, only for her to have been takng birth control all along.
The fury inside of me would not subside.
It had taken every ounce of restraint that I’d had not to toss her onto the street from the fifth floor of that parking garage.
Seeing her guts splattered all over East Fifty-Third Street might’ve made me feel better in the immediacy, but it would’ve only complicated things further for me afterward.
And another truth was that I hadn’t wanted to end her life.
I had ended the lives of dozens of those who threatened my family in one way or another.
If I had been smart, I would’ve done so at the time of Princeton’s death.
Something had stopped me then, but it wasn’t the same thing stopping me now.
After Ekaterina had gotten away with murder, she’d been dragged back to Russia, where she was under constant security.
Yesterday, I could’ve so easily just gotten rid of my problem and fulfilled a sacred vow in the process, but I froze.
While she was the one my grandfather would least want me to ever marry, and whose children he would hate most for me to bring into this world, another truth altogether struck me on the flight to Boston.
Even now, when at the Brannington estate in the heart of Beacon Hill, I knew that sometime over the months we had been together that I had grown to actually like her.
“You look like hell, King,” I heard, and when I looked over my shoulder, my cousin was leaning against the door.
“I’m getting tired of these fucking summons,” I muttered, and he stepped into the room.
“You know what it’s about, right?” Cillian asked.
“I’m assuming it’s to let us know what colossal failures we are, and?—”
“And you would be correct, Garmhac. Only, there is also business to discuss that isn’t of a personal nature. Shall we sit and discuss that first?”
We both threw our hands up at our grandfather’s question, then took our seats.
Once my grandfather did the same, he let out a long, drawn sigh.
It was in that moment that I realized the dark circles under his eyes and the wear on his face.
Age had crept up on him, and while his ultimatum made sense, seeing he was facing his own mortality, that should’ve been my cousin and my problem to worry about instead of his. “It’s Leon Barganella.”
“From Palermo?” Cillian asked.
“Yes, he’s hijacked a shipment of ours out in the Mediterranean.”
“And you know it was him for a fact?” I asked, even though I knew my grandfather would’ve done his due diligence first. Our family wasn’t the largest amongst the Irish Mafia, so we often had to pick our battles more wisely than others.
“I do, and we cannot let him get away with this,” he responded.
“What do you need me to do, Daideó?” I asked.
“Do you need one of us to head to Sicily?” Cillian asked him.
I looked over at my cousin. He appeared to be sober today, and very much wanting to be involved in the business when, in recent years, the only thing that had interested him was the whiskey found inside a bottle.
He had never confided about what drove him to it, and I’d never pushed as he was fragile enough mentally.
Today, he was alert and ready to be called to action.
I was proud of him, and I could see by the smile on our grandfather’s face that he was also pleased.
“Not yet, although it wouldn’t hurt to send some additional men there. I already have a crew, and with any luck, they’ll find the bastard and I can get our comeuppance.”
“And you couldn’t have just called and told us as much on the phone?” I asked, as irritation now set in. I’d dropped everything to come rushing to Boston for something he could’ve sent in a text message.
“I also wanted to let you know that I intend to stay here in Boston for the foreseeable future. When our strike takes place, Dublin is the first place they’ll go. I have a little something waiting for them when they do get there. After, they’ll hit New York City.”
“Which is where we come in,” I replied.
“Yes, I want Cillian to return to Ireland by nightfall, and you to return to New York City.”
“I can’t wait to get out of this fucking country. It’s a fucking cesspool,” Cillian muttered under his breath.
“You’re to oversee the crews in Dublin, Cork, and Limerick. Kingston will oversee the Brooklyn and Manhattan ones. We’ve lost over a million dollars in drugs and weapons. I expect there to be no casualties to anyone in our empire. Is that understood?”
“Yes, Daideó,” both Cillian and I responded.
“And there’s one last thing,” my grandfather said.
“And that is?” I asked.
“The more hits the empire takes, the more I’m reminded that I have no one to even pass this all down to.”
“You have us,” I said to him.
He shrugged. “We’ll see, Garmhac. I expect both of you to marry respectable partners and produce heirs. I’m getting no younger, nor are either of you.”
“I was working on that before you?—”
“That whore will never inherit the Brannington Empire. I want you to get rid of her, then find someone worthy enough of our name.”
Months ago, I would’ve agreed wholeheartedly with him, but she had gotten under my skin. It angered me to no end but made it no less true. “You wanted me to wed and produce an heir. I’m doing what was stipulated.”
“And you’re doing her a lot, too,” Cillian chimed in, and I shot him a glare. “I think my cousin might actually be in love.”
“That’s preposterous, Garmhac.” My grandfather looked to me, then back at Cillian. “What is this bullshit you speak of?”
“At my birthday party, Kingston got jealous and lost his fucking mind.”
I remembered the elevator, especially because the moment of no return had taken place the second I had thrust into her. It’d been the moment where I’d lost all control, and I had yet to regain any of it back.
“You’re both going to make me lose what’s left of mine. Get to your posts, and follow my wishes, or this battle might be your very last one fought in the Brannington name.”
With those words, he got up and stormed out of the room.
I turned to my cousin, who was smirking at me.
I walked over to the bar and made myself a drink before whirling on Cillian.
“I’m only with her to fuck with Daideó. We both know I’d never submit wholeheartedly to his wishes and demands, especially when it involves a wife and kid. ”
“I’d once dreamed of having both, but they are weaknesses we can least afford, especially right now.”
“What happened to you?” I asked Cillian.
He smirked then shook his head wryly. “I grew the fuck up and realized that love was the biggest illusion of all. It makes men weak.”
“You speak as if it’s from experience. When have you ever been in love with something other than the fucking bottle?”
“Wisdom doesn’t always come from experience. Watch what you’re doing with the Kotov girl is all that I’m saying. Daideó is busy with other things right now, but the more you taunt him with her, the sooner you will realize that he won’t ever accept her into this family.”
“He can call her whatever he wants to, and refer to her as?—”
“He’ll kill her,” Cillian said, and the way his voice changed sent a shiver racing down my spine.
“If anyone is going to take my deceitful wife out, it is going to be me .” I turned and walked to the door, then stopped at my cousin’s next words.
“What would Princeton think?” Cillian asked.
I turned around and smirked. “He’d know that this is all going according to plan.”
“Plans change,” Cillian replied.
“Vendettas don’t. See you in the Big Apple.” I left the room, grabbed my things, then decided to head back to New York City tonight. There was nothing here for me. Being there was another story altogether. After all, I had yet another punishment to dole out.