Chapter Thirteen #2
The line that separated the good guys from the bad.
* * *
Dmitri hung up the phone and considered the new information at his disposal.
Of all the scenarios he’d played out upon forcing Aiden O’Malley’s hand, Seamus O’Malley coming back to Boston and reaching out personally to assure him that his intention to marry Keira O’Malley would be honored…
it had ranked toward the bottom. It hadn’t even taken the man a full day to make his play—he’d arrived earlier this morning and it was barely eight p.m.
The move reeked of weakness and desperation, which irked him.
The O’Malleys had proven to be worthy enemies over the last three years, and he had a certain respect for them as a result.
Aiden hadn’t agreed to a single thing until Dmitri had given as good as he got in their deal, and now his father was practically pissing himself as he offered Dmitri his throat.
Something broke in the old man, something he can’t get back.
It was useful information, but he wasn’t prepared to do anything about it currently.
Whatever Seamus O’Malley thought, Dmitri and Aiden had a temporary alliance.
The O’Malleys would help him with his Eldridge problem, but the true reasoning behind his request for assistance had nothing to do with an enemy.
He wanted Keira.
More, he’d already decided that he’d have her. There was no other option, no other acceptable outcome. He’d put his ring on her finger, and she would be exchanging vows with him at the earliest manageable date.
There wasn’t a damn thing Seamus or Aiden or the rest of the O’Malleys could do to stop it.
He took out a second phone, one he’d secured for a single purpose, and dialed.
It rang several times, before a breathless Keira answered.
“You know, it’s funny, but I distinctly remember only owning one phone.
And yet I hear a ringing and there’s this little sucker in my underwear drawer. Creepy, Dmitri. Really creepy.”
Underwear drawer? He drummed his fingers on the desk. He was going to have to have a…talk…with Vance about the appropriate places for him to go digging through—namely, not Dmitri’s intended’s panty drawer. “Apologies on the placement.”
“But not on the fact that you had one of your goons sneak into my room.” She tsked. “Typical.”
It struck him that he’d never heard Keira quite so lively. Every time they’d encountered each other, she’d been under heavy doses of drugs or alcohol. She sounded downright sober. “How did you like Krav Maga?”
“Stalker much?” Keira sighed, but the sound was almost happy. “I’m only telling you this so you know I can beat your ass if you think about trying some messed-up shit with me, but it was amazing. Hitting made me feel…”
“Powerful. In control.” He understood, even if he didn’t have a love affair with violence the way some men did. Violence, in its many forms, was a tool. A weapon was a weapon, no matter the flavor, and all weapons were to be utilized.
“Yes.”
And if there was one thing his Keira craved, it was power and control. He’d gotten that right, even if she didn’t want to admit it before now. “I suppose now I know where to take you for special occasions.”
“Careful there, Dmitri. You’re starting to sound more man than monster. I might get the wrong idea.”
“Make no mistake. I’m the monster. Forgetting that would be detrimental.”
“Because you’ll beat me?”
He went still, icy rage freezing out the amusement their conversation had spawned. “Does your father beat you?” Aiden didn’t. He would have known if her brother—any of her brothers—hurt her.
But Seamus O’Malley had disappeared into the country before Dmitri set his sights on Keira. If he had mistreated her, it wouldn’t necessarily have come to light. There’d been no hospital records, but that didn’t mean a damn thing when someone was wealthy enough to have a personal doctor on call.
“And if he did?” The happiness was gone from her voice, too, leaving the apathy he recognized.
“What would you do? Would you ride in on a white stallion and cut him down?” She laughed.
“Please. You’re all monsters. Hell, I’m a monster, too.
You don’t get to play the savior when you’re no better than he is. ”
She hadn’t admitted one way or another, but Dmitri sure as fuck was going to find out if Seamus O’Malley had hurt his youngest daughter.
For now, he focused on the woman on the other end of the line. “You don’t need a savior, Keira. You’re more than capable of saving yourself.”
Again, that broken laugh. “And you’re just telling me what you think I want to hear.
Admirable effort, though you missed it by a mile.
You’re supposed to say that of course you’ll save me from my wretched life, and that you definitely aren’t the man my family makes you out to be, and naturally I’ll be the coddled and protected wife who you’ll fall madly in love with. ”
He stared at the painting on the wall across from his desk. It was a winter landscape, calm even as it was brutal. In that world, like in his, only the strong survived.
Only the monsters.
The picture she painted was even further from reality than the one on his wall. There were no white knights or saviors in their world, and he was just as bad as the members of her family. Worse, in many ways.
Love? There was no room in his life for love. Love was for the weak, the idealists, the people who became casualties because they opened themselves up for a shot to the heart.
Keira sighed. “That’s what I thought. We both know what this is—and what it isn’t. So do me a favor and don’t talk to me like I’m a fool.”
Somewhere along the way, he’d lost control of this conversation, and he hadn’t even been aware of it until now. Dmitri resumed drumming his fingers on the desk. “Do you like your ring, Keira?”
A hesitation. “You know that I do.”
“I can shower you in gifts that make that look like an embarrassing trinket. You might not have your freedom, but you’ll want for nothing as my wife.
” He should just leave it there. If she had foolish romantic notions, that wasn’t his burden to bear.
He’d never offered her love, never offered her anything but exactly what he intended.
But it felt too much like a lie to let things stand. “I can offer you anything money can buy. I can’t—won’t—offer you love. Sex, yes, as much as you can handle and more, but this isn’t a love match, Keira. It never will be.”
Her exhale, so world-weary and exhausted, made him shift, driven by an urge to do…
something. He didn’t know. He still hadn’t figured it out when she said, “I know, Dmitri. It’s cute that you feel the need to point that out, but I’m not a teenager with stars in my eyes.
I know what you are—and what this is. And, trust me, I’ll never expect love from you.
Now, if you’re done with this entertaining little whatever-the-fuck-it-is, I’m tired and I’m going to bed. ”
“Good night, Keira.” He hung up, still feeling off-kilter and not sure why.
He hadn’t lied to her. Dishonesty was one line he didn’t cross unless he absolutely had to, and he would never do it with her.
If he lied to her and tried to force her to his will, she would be more his enemy than wife. And that was unacceptable.
That’s it. That’s why it bothers me. I hurt her, even if it was the truth, and now she’s going to lash out and there will be consequences.
He put the phone in the top drawer of his desk and shut it, willing himself to focus on the next step. Tensions remained high with Alethea Eldridge, and he had to soothe her pride to ensure that she didn’t suspect anything. Irksome, but easy enough to do.
First, though…
He picked up the desk phone and pressed 1. Mikhail answered on the first ring. “Da?”
“Send Vance to my office. I have something I need to discuss with him.” Namely that his pawing through Keira’s unmentionables was a punishable offense.
And he had every intention of collecting.