Connor
I find Finn in his father’s office at the Gallagher estate. I guess the space belongs to Finn now, given Shane’s death a few months ago, but the place still exudes that old-world aesthetic that reminds me of an older generation. I might as well be in Declan’s office. They’re practically identical.
Masculine and mature, and outfitted in rich, dark wood and brown leather, this room seems built for comfort. Though you’d never want to lower your guard in either office.
Rivals or not, Shane and Declan clearly used the same interior designer. Eerie. I almost feel at home.
The power of genetics, I guess.
Finn scowls when I remind him that an official alliance remains up in the air, though I get the sense that’s just his standard expression. A smile just wouldn’t look right with that scar across his cheek.
If he doesn’t like my methods, maybe he should’ve gone himself. “Like I told you earlier, Eduardo seemed pleased when I offered Sal Padovesi, and you never shared who the Gallaghers wanted in exchange. That’s your business.”
Finn paces to a window to watch the snowfall. “I’ll pick someone. Though I wish you’d secured a deal. I respect Eduardo, but I’m worried that Nino will mess this up. With the Ricci boss weak, I imagine Nino’s got more sway.”
I hum, resting against the arm of a chair, and think back on Cat’s quiet, watchful gaze. “Not if Caterina has her way.”
He glances back at me, the scar pulling with his raised brows. “The daughter?”
“She sat in on the meeting. She was all but mute, but her father respects her. That was clear.” I recall how Cat kept tabs on the three of us, as well as the subtle glimpses she kept shooting her brother.
“And Nino Ricci’s like a toddler without his Tonka truck.
While he’s running some things, he’s not the one in charge. ”
Finn sits back down behind his desk and steeples his fingers under his chin, his brown eyes pensive. “Is he a problem?”
“Potentially.” I shrug. “But I’ve got this. Don’t worry.” I never lose.
At Finn’s grimace, I shove down the annoyance tickling the back of my throat.
Finn doesn’t know me or what I’m capable of.
People don’t expect me to be a threat because I’m not built like Brody, who has some nice bulk.
I’m lean, toned, and tall. I’m the guy that helps sell the suit, not the guy you cross the street to avoid.
When I can, I go for the negotiation before the gun.
Finn’s a scarier version of my little brother. A big, strong, shoot first, ask questions later type. I’ve never seen him in anything but head-to-toe black tactical gear, like he’s preparing for war.
Sometimes that strategy works. However, I’ve often found that a little finesse—when used correctly—goes a long way.
“I paid off one of the housekeepers to plant cameras all around the mansion. We have eyes and ears inside. I’ll find their weakness and have an alliance by the end of next week.
” I stuff my hands in my pockets. As irritating as I find his lack of faith, I know I’ve got this in the bag.
Finn just needs to let me handle this. “Or we the Roguilins can just continue stealing your shipments. That’s option number two. ”
Finn narrows his eyes, stilling as he contemplates his only choice.
The family resemblance between Declan and me is obvious, so I shut up and wait for Finn to consider my words. We both know I’m right.
I can practically hear his wheels grinding as my patience thins.
Finally, he nods. “The surveillance was spot-on. Keep me posted.”
“Will do.”
It’s stifling, taking someone’s orders.
As Declan Gallagher’s eldest son, I did my father’s bidding in LA, though he gave me some leeway regarding how to implement orders.
For our alliance with the Riccis, as well as the one between Finn and Declan, to work, following Finn’s commands is important.
Doesn’t make me hate this any less.
I escape Finn’s suffocating control and return to my temporary home, a one-bed, two-bath Tribeca apartment that’s nice but nothing special.
I just need a spot to crash that’s not under Finn’s thumb, and he was generous enough to lend me the place while I’m in the city.
Point for him over my own father, I’ll say that much.
Though being closer to Brody might be nice, he’s too lovey with his girl, and most of the lower-ranked Irish Kings don’t really trust me. Better to avoid their nasty glares when I’m trying to relax.
Unfortunately, no relaxation will come until after the real conversation.
As soon as I sit down on the couch, my phone buzzes. I accept the call after the first ring. “Dad.”
“Do you have the diamond?”
I barely smother a snort. If my father ever started a conversation with “hello,” I think I’d faint. “Yeah, I took out the whole clan. Made a run for it with the safe tucked under an arm.”
“Don’t get smart with me, Connor. I’m working.” A hiss travels through the speaker as he takes a drag of his cigar.
“So am I.” I kick my feet up on the coffee table and stare up at the ceiling. “Surveillance is set up. I did some recon inside the estate. I’ll know where the diamond is in a few days.”
“Grab it fast and get home, Connor. The Bratva’s moving faster. They’re pissed about Kruschev.”
If you ask anyone in the mafia world, Brody or I fired the gun that ended Andrei Kruschev in New Orleans. In reality, he got hit with a freaky, defunct Mardi Gras float—does anyone really like clowns?—and Trinity Gallagher had more to do with his demise than either of us Gallagher brothers.
Regardless, the Russians still hate us for his death.
My father reluctantly agreed to a temporary truce with the Irish Kings so we could join forces with the Riccis to take down the Roguilins. Every agreement Declan’s ever penned his name to has come at a price.
This is just his latest.
He wants me to steal the Riccis’ most priceless family heirloom—without telling Finn, of course—to frame the Bratva and pit the Italians and Russians against each other. We’ll have the money, the alliance, and the other families will hate each other. Win-win-win.
I’m not some phantom jewel thief. My father’s insistence that I snag the diamond to ensure our survival always infuses me with red-hot rage.
He’s the head of the Port Kings in Los Angeles, though, just like Finn leads the Irish Kings here. While I’m in no position to argue with either of them, they’d better watch themselves.
I could go rogue, taking all my influence and abilities with me. Within a couple years, I might even top them both. I hear Chicago’s lacking in influential Irishmen these days.
My mind flashes to the meeting with Eduardo. What different energy. That man was everything Declan’s not. And Finn, if I’m being honest.
Focused, calm, and cool as a cucumber. Even at death’s door, he carries himself like a man who’s word is gold.
What would growing up with a dad like that have been like? No wonder Cat’s such a catch.
Declan ends the call with an “I’ll be in touch.”
God forbid he wish me luck, but I’d be a liar if I claimed I wasn’t a teensy bit excited.
The diamond angle isn’t necessary, and I hate that he won’t let me do my thing. Still, I can’t resist Declan’s challenges.
As I grew, so did his demands. So far, I’ve met every single one like a perfect machine.
Bring it on, Dad. I’ll tackle anything you throw at me.
Connor
Fresh out of the shower and with a brandy in hand, I watch snow falling over the city from my fifth-floor view.
All right, I guess I can acknowledge the appeal of this place.
Unlike Finn’s office, this has Manhattan bachelor pad written all over it.
Exposed brick walls mingled with white paint, black concrete countertops in the kitchen and bathrooms, hardwood floors with plush rugs sprawled over them, and an electric fireplace that I’ve kept lit since I arrived.
Thick windows keep out the January chill and noise from the street below.
I’ve spent all afternoon monitoring the cameras that maid—Perla, I think she said—hid in the Ricci estate. I’ve memorized every inch of the mansion and the faces of the people coming and going.
But the city’s gone to sleep, and I’m done working.
So I let my mind wander to last night and my fan-fucking-tastic roll in the sack with Caterina Ricci.
Throwing on a pair of boxers, I climb into the king-sized bed, drink in hand. Downing both shots, I pull up the feed from the camera I planted in Cat’s bedroom moments before she caught me in front of that glass mermaid.
Midnight’s nearing, and Cat’s lying in her four-poster with a book.
Her room resembles the one at the Desmond, with artwork all over the walls and dark red sheets. Three closed doors likely lead to the hall, a bathroom, and a closet. My focus, though, fixates on the beautiful woman.
Her hair hangs loose, those dark waves tumbling over her pillow. A damn shame that the oversize t-shirt hides those perfect breasts. At least I can see a little skin from the collar hanging off her shoulder.
What a tease.
I smile when she dozes off for a minute while reading. I kept her out late last night, coaxing her into almost three martinis before the real fun even began. She must be exhausted.
Fuck, she’s cute when she sleeps.
She rouses, places a bookmark between the pages, and slides out of bed with those gorgeous legs.
My dick twitches. I had no idea such basic white underwear would rev my engine like this, but Cat’s managed to surprise me more than once already.
I think I might enjoy seeing her in a bulky potato sack. She’s just that sexy.
Cat disappears through a door, and I tap my fingers against the edge of my laptop, impatient.
She returns and sits, exhaling as she reclines against the tufted headboard.
Then she slips a hand down the front of her underwear.
Now, normally, I’d never spy on a woman like this, but I need all the information on Caterina I can get if I’m going to secure this alliance and obtain the diamond.
Besides, she gave me permission to watch earlier today. It’s not my fault she wasn’t sly enough to check the space for bugs.
Mafia Life 101. Never trust that anywhere is safe.
I settle back against my own pillows, setting the computer aside.
Cat’s fingers rub her clit, her chest heaving as she sinks into whatever fantasy’s playing behind her eyes. Pretending Cat’s touching me, I take my cock out and stroke with my nondominant hand. I can’t wait to get her soft, delicate fingers on me again…
When she withdraws from her basic cotton panties, I pray to every god I can think of that the show’s not over.
She digs inside her drawer and fishes out a big purple vibrator.
I groan, warmth pooling in my gut. “Shit, Cat, you gorgeous creature. Fuck yourself for me.”
I squeeze my shaft in anticipation.
She pulls her panties to the side, baring her pussy just for me. With little effort—I can see she’s wet from here—she inches the vibrator in.
Though the toy’s sizable, it’s smaller than me, and the silicone slides in and out with ease, giving me the best show on earth.
Her eyes roll into the back of her head, her mouth open as she pants. I can only imagine she’s thinking about me and last night as she picks up the pace.
I match her rhythm, stroking myself faster. She’s so beautiful. Her cheeks flush, red inching down her neck to hide beneath her shirt. Her thighs tremble, her fingers clutching the end of the toy as she fucks herself.
I want so badly to be there between her legs, giving her exactly what she craves.
I’ve never been jealous of a toy before, but I guess there’s a first time for everything.
If I were with her, she’d be calling my name instead of Dane fucking Ryder.
I need that. Need to hear her moaning for me and only me.
I don’t stop to consider why that desire burns so badly in my chest. I just let the flame of lust blaze through me as I pump my cock in time with her hand and that damn toy.
Her spine arches as she comes, her nipples hardening through that flimsy t-shirt. Her body shakes, and her free hand clenches in the dark sheets.
I follow her with a groan, spilling over my boxers and stroking myself through the aftershocks, which seem to last forever.
She’s perfect. No other word does her justice.
She’s gorgeous, sure. Brilliant, clever, and beautiful when she’s angry. That red face was super sexy earlier.
After I clean up and recline in the bed, I’m not thinking of Cat’s body or even the show she put on.
I’m thinking about her sharp eyes and quiet intensity. The way she never once looked away while I spoke with Eduardo. How she tracked me down after the meeting.
Despite the best efforts of Daddy and her little brother to keep her on the sidelines, Caterina Ricci is a force.
Her father’s on his last leg, and Nino sure as hell isn’t going to give me the challenge I crave. He’s got the disposition of an angry bear and the IQ of a goldfish.
No point in fighting if you’re the only one in the ring. I did the right thing by focusing on her versus either of them. I just need to find my way back into her good graces, her family home, and her boring little panties to gain access to the Bonasera diamond.
A gem like that—and a gem like Cat—deserves a fight.
Let the games begin.