Chapter 2
LOCHLAN
The second my father says the word “contract,” I know I’m fucked.
I’ve seen that look on his face before, too many times to count. The satisfaction of a man who’s already won the game that nobody knew they were playing. But it was the last time I saw that look that flares bright in my memory, when I told him I was leaving the family business. For good.
The old bastard just smiled and said, “We’ll see.”
He’s wearing the same look right now, standing in a hospital waiting room at four in the morning. A chill slithers down my spine because whatever comes next, I’m not going to like it.
“This is a conversation best had in private,” my father says in a smooth, calming voice. As if he gives a shit about how the DiMicheli women are feeling right now. “Maria, perhaps there’s somewhere we can speak?”
Maria DiMicheli’s face is tight, her eyes red-rimmed but sharp.
She doesn’t trust him. Smart woman. She nods toward a hallway, and we all walk down the quiet corridor toward the cafeteria.
It’s quiet and relatively empty, so my father can drop whatever bomb without too many prying eyes — and ears — witnessing the aftermath.
My father leads the group. Ronan is on his heels.
Maria follows, her arm linked with Luna’s.
Vincenzo, Francesco’s consigliere, the guy who showed up covered in his boss’s blood, walks with them.
His hand is on Maria’s shoulder, steadying her.
Tension is heavy in the air as they wait to hear what words my father might say to shatter them even more than they already have been.
Then there’s Adriana.
She walks like she’s heading into a boardroom negotiation, not a conversation that could destroy her entire life. And knowing my father, it will most likely come damn close to that. Her spine is straight, shoulders are back, and her chin is lifted like she’s daring the world to challenge her.
I watched her hold her family together for hours tonight. She refused to break even when breaking would have been easier. Adriana stood strong in the uncertainty and kept breathing. Like a warrior. A boardroom barracuda.
I’d read about her, heard about her cutthroat reputation as one of the most powerful women in the technology industry, and how she singlehandedly built one of the most prestigious strategy consulting firms on the East Coast.
She’s damn impressive. And it takes a lot to impress me.
My eyes refuse to wander away from her. I shouldn’t be noticing the slope of her neck. The way her dark hair falls over her shoulders. The way her gown clings to the curves of her body.
But I notice. God help me, I notice.
I’m last to walk into the cafeteria, and the dread in my gut gets heavier with each step toward the table they’re gathered around.
Maria and her daughters sit on one side of the table.
Vincenzo stands next to Maria, giving off protector vibes.
Not that he’s any match for Eamon Molloy.
My father and Ronan sit, but I stand instead.
I don’t want to be anywhere near my family for this conversation, and I’m sure as hell not on their side.
“Tell us about the contract, Eamon.” Maria’s voice is steady, but I can hear the strain beneath it. “Francesco never mentioned anything about it.”
“I’m sure he was waiting for the right moment.” My father spreads his hands out on the table. I lift an eyebrow. Jesus. Is anyone really fooled by his bullshit attempt to soothe and sympathize? “Unfortunately, circumstances have forced our hand.”
“Don’t patronize me.” Maria’s chin lifts. Yep. I thought she was a smart one. “I’ve been married to that man for forty-three years. If there was a contract—”
“There is. We both signed a year ago. It was witnessed and notarized.”
Vincenzo’s eyes fly open wide. “Francesco never said anything to me, either. And as his second in command, in this type of a traumatic situation, I can’t see how a contract can possibly be binding.”
“I understand your concern.” My father nods.
“But the very fact that Francesco is unable to speak to it makes it an even more urgent discussion. When Francesco and I formalized our alliance in the face of a new Russian threat, we agreed that in the event of incapacitation or death of either head of family, our houses would be united permanently.”
“United how?” Luna demands. Her voice echoes, sharp with disbelief.
My father smiles, and my stomach drops.
Oh, shit. Here it comes.
“Through marriage. Francesco’s eldest daughter to my son.”
Luna slaps her hands against the tabletop. “You’re joking.”
She looks around the room, waiting for someone to tell her she’s right.
“You can’t be serious,” she presses. “This isn’t the Middle Ages. You can’t just… just arrange a marriage like we’re property to be traded.”
All the color has dripped from Maria’s face. “Why wasn’t I told about any of this?” she rasps.
“I’m sure Francesco thought he was protecting you,” my father says.
“Protecting all of you. The threats have been escalating over the past year. This alliance was meant to ensure everyone’s safety.
It gives us each access to the others’ resources and territories so that we can protect what we’ve both built. ”
I watch Adriana through all of this. She hasn’t said a word since we walked in here. She just sits there, arms crossed, watching my father like she’s plotting his murder.
There’s something magnetic about her. The stillness. The control. The way she refuses to give my father the reaction he’s looking for. Most people crumble under Eamon Molloy’s icy stare. She doesn’t. She’s calm and calculating. Emotionless in the face of adversity.
It’s fucking hot as hell.
When she finally speaks, her voice is flat.
“Which son?”
My father’s eyes slide to me, and I feel the trap snap shut.
Fuck me. My gut clenches. That son of a bitch. Is he seriously going to—?
“The contract specifies my second eldest son.”
Every head in the room turns toward me. I take it all in while my brain processes the words I just heard.
My father nods at me, satisfaction etched into his expression.
Ronan’s eyes fire off bitter hatred. Maria presses her fingers to her temples.
Luna’s jaw drops. Vincenzo shakes his head and lets out a defeated sigh.
And Adriana.
Her eyes narrow at me, lips pulled into a tight line.
“You,” she says. Not a question.
“Me.”
She holds my gaze, anger and betrayal blazing bright in her dark eyes.
Luna lets out a humorless laugh. “This is insane. Adriana, tell them this is insane.”
“Luna.” Adriana’s voice is quiet, but it cuts through the room. “Let him finish.”
“Let him finish?” Luna gestures at me wildly. “He just said you have to marry one of his sons… and you don’t even know him!”
“I’m aware.”
Even now, she doesn’t crack. Doesn’t raise her voice. Doesn’t give anyone an inch.
I’ve spent my whole life around people who wield power like a weapon. But Adriana DiMicheli wields control like armor, and I can’t stop watching her wear it.
Vincenzo shifts his weight, his eyes flickering back to Maria and Luna. “Eamon, is this really necessary? Tonight of all nights? Perhaps we could wait until Francesco wakes up. Then he can explain the terms himself. I think that would make everyone feel more comfortable.”
There it is. The voice of reason. The concerned advisor. But I know my father too well to know he doesn’t wait on a claim to power. He wants whatever was agreed upon in that contract, and Eamon Molloy always gets what he wants.
My father shakes his head. “Your point is valid, Vincenzo. But we don’t have the luxury of time. The people who did this aren’t going to wait while Francesco recovers. They will smell blood in the water and attack. Again.” He pauses. “And maybe this time they won’t miss.”
“Even so—”
“The contract was designed for exactly this situation.” My father’s voice hardens the slightest bit. “Francesco knew the risks. He prepared for them. Honoring that preparation is the best way to protect his family now.”
Vincenzo hesitates, then nods slowly. “I guess… if this is what Francesco wanted… we have to at least consider it.”
Eamon’s performance is fucking Oscar-worthy. He plays the reluctant ally perfectly, concerned enough to seem trustworthy, compliant enough to smooth any protests.
Maria presses her hands together, trying to stop them from shaking. “Why now? Francesco isn’t dead. He’s going to recover.”
“Is he?” My father tilts his head, all false sympathy.
“He took three bullets to the chest. One is still lodged near his spine. The doctor said, ‘if he recovers,’ not ‘when.’ And even if he does, how long until he’s able to lead?
Months? A year?” He pauses, letting the cryptic words sink in.
“Your family has a lot of enemies, Maria. Without this alliance in place, how long before they swoop in and take everything from you. Before they take both of your daughters, and not just one?”
I turn to my father. “This is bullshit. You can’t just—”
“Lochlan.” His voice is even, but the warning underneath is clear. “I’d like a word. Outside.”
“No. Whatever you have to say, you can say to me right here.”
His jaw tenses. “Outside. Now.”
He gets up and stalks out of the cafeteria. He doesn’t look back to make sure I’m there. He just expects that I am.
My eyes drift back to Adriana. Her expression is unreadable.
Still.
Damn, I need a poker face like that.
I don’t want to leave her alone with my father’s words hanging in the air. But I also don’t want whatever’s coming next to happen in front of her.
So I grit my teeth and follow him out the door.
The hospital corridor is empty and too bright for this hour. Fluorescent lights buzz overhead, the smell of antiseptic cleaner burning the insides of my nose.
My father stops halfway down the hall and turns to face me. The mask of the concerned family friend-slash-ally is gone. What’s left is the man I grew up with, a prick who is cold, calculating, and heartless.