Lorenzo #2
She looks at me for a long moment before she answers. "No," she says. "I didn’t. I was told rather than asked about marrying you. But it’s what’s needed for the Syndicate. I always knew I’d marry for alliances, Lorenzo, and that’s what we’re doing."
The honesty of it stops me very briefly. I like that she isn’t afraid to be honest with me, it’s quite refreshing if I’m being truthful.
"You'll have access to the household accounts within reason," I say, giving her the last of the details she’ll need.
"This marriage will be what it needs to be in public, I want that to be clear from the beginning so there's no confusion later. I don’t want you to get any idea that we’ll end up in love"
She holds my gaze and I can see the determination in her big green eyes. "It's crystal clear."
"Good. I’m glad we’re on the same page. Now, do you have any questions," I ask.
She's been sitting here for twenty minutes processing information and she hasn't said much. She's listening more than she's talking, watching more than she's reacting, she's intelligent, I've known that since she walked into the room.
"One," she says sheepishly.
"Go ahead."
"What do you need from me?"
My brows furrow at her words. Hadn’t we already established this?
"Not the Syndicate or the alliance, but you specifically. What does this arrangement require of me in order to actually work?"
I study her. It’s a more intelligent question than most people would think to ask. Most people in her position ask about what they're getting, what they'll have access to, what freedoms they'll retain, whether they'll be treated decently. But not Quinn. No, she wants to know what I need from her.
"Public solidarity," I tell her honestly. "You stand beside me without any fractures showing. At every event, every function, every occasion the Syndicate puts us together. Whatever you think of this arrangement, it doesn't show publicly."
She nods, taking everything I tell her in without question.
"No alliances formed without my knowledge. If anyone approaches you about the family's business, directly or indirectly, I hear about it."
"I can do that."
"And loyalty." I hold her gaze. " To the family, to the Syndicate. If that conflicts with anything else you value, the family takes precedence."
Quinn is quiet for a moment. "I know what loyalty means in this world," she says finally. "I was raised by Ronan Delaney.”
I rise from my seat and move toward her, stopping just in front of her. I lean down until only inches separate us. "One more thing."
Her chin lifts.
"Don't mistake me being polite for me being nice." I hold her gaze. "My family has rules. This house has rules. Learn them." I straighten. "Because nobody's going to hold your hand."
She looks up at me, those big green eyes so bright and wide. "I don't need you to slow it down," she replies softly. “What about you, Lorenzo?” The way that she says my name has my stomach coiling. “You want me to be loyal to the family, to the Syndicate, but what about you?”
The smile I have on my face is anything but nice. “I accept your loyalty too, Quinn.”
“Above all else?” she asks with a raised brow.
I take a step back, needing to put some distance between us.
The door opens and Ciro appears. I glance at him. He knows better than to interrupt my meeting. I know from his face that something in the schedule has moved. He glances at Quinn, taking her in quickly before moving his gaze back to me.
"We need you," he says. "Father's call moved up."
I look at Quinn, but she’s already standing. She didn't wait for me to dismiss her. She’s read the room and is instantly on the move, smoothing her coat and preparing to leave without me saying a word.
This is a woman who knows when she's being dismissed, and doesn't wait for me to be the one to do it. She’s right, she was raised for this.
"We'll speak again before the arrangements are finalized," I say.
"Okay, Lorenzo. I’ll see you soon," she says with a small nod as she takes a step toward the door, toward Ciro.
The moment she’s at the door, I speak. “The answer to your question is, yes.”
She turns to me and smiles brightly, shaking her head and turning away. I watch her leave, knowing that my brother is doing the exact same.
“How did it go?” Ciro asks once Quinn has left.
“Fine. She knows what her duties will be and it seems as though Ronan and Bridget raised one daughter to follow the rules.”
But even as I say the words, I know there’s so much more to Quinn than she lets show.
She holds a lot of things back, close to her chest. I bet she rarely lets people in.
I should be grateful that she’s someone who knows how to hold things back, that understands how this world works.
That's exactly what I said I needed, someone who can stand beside me without letting the fractures show.
Someone with enough control to manage what this life asks of her publicly.
The fact that she has that control should make this easier, but the fact that she has that control is the problem.
I don't know yet what she's holding back. I can’t read her. Quinn is extremely closed off. And I am very rarely in rooms with people I cannot fully read. I find that I don't like the feeling of not knowing how to read her.
Then it hits me. Quinn didn't ask for anything. For this alliance, for this union to me. She didn’t ask for anything.
That should make this easier, but I don't know why it doesn't. Why does it bother me that she didn’t think to ask for anything? She could have made demands, asked for anything, but she didn’t.
She only asked what would make things easier for me.
I hate that I can’t read her and I’ve only a little time before our wedding to try and figure her out. I will not let my enemies have the upper hand, and anyone with the surname Delaney is an enemy of mine.
Ciro leaves a few minutes later, pulled away by whatever crisis has decided it can't wait until tomorrow.
The office falls quiet, and I sit back down behind my desk and stare at the report I'd been reading before Quinn arrived.
It contains shipments, accounts, and timelines.
Things that make sense, things that can be solved.
I read the same paragraph twice before I realized I haven't absorbed a single word of it.
Annoyed, I set the report down and reach for my coffee. It's gone cold. Of course it has.
I lean back in my chair and drag a hand across my jaw, then I pick the report up again.
Work, that's what matters. Not Quinn Delaney, not the fact that she asked me questions nobody else would have bothered asking, not the fact that I still don't know what she's thinking.
I force my attention back to the page. Eventually, the numbers start making sense again.
The familiar settles back into place, and I let it. The report concerns a warehouse near the waterfront. We're purchasing it through one of our construction holdings. On paper, it'll be a storage facility, in reality, its location makes it useful.
I review the figures to see the acquisition price is higher than expected. I find Marco's note attached to the file, another party is circling the property. The same thing happened with the restaurant near the pier, and I make a note for him to look into it.
Then I check the ownership structure. The warehouse sits under a construction company, which sits under a holding company, which sits under a parent company. Exactly where it's supposed to be. It’s clean.
I sign off on the purchase and move on to the next report. One more property, one more piece added to the operation.
I'm halfway through the next report when there's a knock on the door. Marco steps inside. "There’s a call for you."
I glance up. "Who?"
"Luca."
That gets my attention. Luca runs the Dorchester handoff point. If he's calling me directly, something has gone wrong.
I hold out my hand and Marco passes me the phone. "Luca."
"Boss." He sounds irritated. "We've got a problem."
Of course we do. "What happened?"
"One of the dealers under our protection has been selling outside his territory."
I lean back in my chair. "Where?"
"Allston."
Fuck, Allston belongs to the Morozovs. "How long?"
"Six weeks."
My jaw tightens. Six weeks means he knew exactly what he was doing. Nobody accidentally sells into Morozov territory for six weeks, not without being corrected and not without being warned. Which means he ignored the warnings and kept doing it.
"Who is it?" He tells me the name and I write it down. "Here's what's going to happen," I say.
Luca goes quiet.
"He has seventy-two hours to get back into his own territory and stay there."
"Understood."
"He's also going to repay every cent the Morozovs lost because of this."
There's a pause. "And if he refuses?" he asks, and I can hear the resolve in his voice.
I lean back in my chair. "Then I'll send someone to explain it to him."
Luca understands exactly what I mean. "Understood, boss."
"Good." I end the call and hand Marco back his cell, he doesn’t hang around and leaves my office quietly.
I make a note in the margin of the acquisition report. Watch Luca.
The dealer isn't the only problem here. This ran for six weeks before it reached my desk.
A man who lets something like that sit for six weeks is either slow or too comfortable. Neither is acceptable.
I set the pen down and glance at the chair Quinn occupied earlier when she asked me what I needed.
The question doesn't sit right with me. Nobody asks that. Not in my world they don’t. People ask what they're getting, whereas Quinn asked what would make things easier for me.
I have no fucking idea what to do with that.
I drag the next report toward me. I need to focus on work, because this marriage is happening regardless.