Chapter 18 #3
"It's how debt works in De Luca's world,” Padraigh snaps.
“It has nothing to do with our business or how we handle things.
And now, instead of a simple business transaction—hand over the girl, make temporary peace with the Italians—you've created an even bigger incident.
" He shakes his head, his expression still thunderous. “You could have given yourself time to choose how to address De Luca’s insults to you by murdering Siobhan. You could have taken control over the situation and focused on how best to avenge your first wife, not become so obsessed with this girl that you made things worse!”
"I've married her," I correct. "Which puts her under my protection, under family protection. That supersedes any claims De Luca thinks he has. You know that—"
Padraigh stares at me for a long moment. "You think this is about protection? You think I don't see what's really happening here?"
My jaw tightens. "Enlighten me."
He snorts derisively, giving me the kind of look I’ve only ever seen him direct at Tristan before.
“You’re thinking with your dick. If I didn’t know better, I’d think I was talking to your fucking brother.
You wanted this girl, and instead of managing your desires and sending her back to Rocco a virgin, focusing on the bigger problems, you found a way to get her into your bed.
” He shakes his head. “I know you didn’t want to marry Siobhan, but at least Siobhan had the decency to come from a connected family. This girl is nobody."
"Watch it," I warn, my voice dropping into a register that makes most men think twice. But my father isn’t most men, and he’s never been afraid of me. There’s nothing I can say to make him back down, and I know it.
"Or what? You'll defend her honor?" Padraigh laughs again.
"Son, let me tell you exactly what's going to happen.
De Luca is still going to demand we hand her over.
The Russians are going to pressure us to comply to maintain the peace.
And you're going to have to choose between this girl and everything we've built. "
"There's no choice to make," I say evenly. "She's my wife now. That means something.”
“He’ll find someone who will buy her. All you’ve done is ensure she’ll go to someone with exotic tastes that they’ll pay top dollar for, someone who buys women they can destroy. You’ve made things worse for her, and you’ll get her killed, just like you did Siobhan.”
My vision goes white at the edges, fury searing through my veins as I struggle not to react. "Siobhan got herself killed," I snap, then immediately regret the words. But they're out now, and my father's expression shifts.
“She was a lying whore,” he admits, his mouth set in a thin line.
“And she would have been punished for making her husband a cuckold. But you neglected her, Ronan. You are the leader here, the man of this household. The blame falls ultimately at your door. And when your wife goes back to Rocco De Luca, the blame will be there, once again.”
“She is not going back.” I meet his eyes. "I won't make that mistake again. I will protect her. Ilya Sokolov is bound to back me up on this, now that Leila is my wife—"
"No? Then what do you call yesterday? What do you call having your wedding shot up because you insisted on making a public spectacle instead of handling this quietly?" Padraigh shakes his head. “You thought a big wedding would make them accept her, but De Luca will never accept this.”
"The marriage is done," I growl, my patience thinning. "It's legal, it's binding, and it sends the message we need to send. Deal with it."
"Is it consummated?"
The blunt question catches me off guard. "What?"
"You heard me. Is the marriage consummated? Because if it's not, we can still get it annulled, still fix this mess before it gets any worse."
Images from the wedding night flash through my mind, my body reacting despite the tension thickening the air in the room, the deadly conversation I’m having—Leila underneath me, the sounds she made, the way she felt around me.
The way she responded to my touch like she was made for it, the way I desperately want her again, even though I know that’s not what this marriage is about.
"Yes," I say quietly. "It's consummated."
Padraigh’s jaw tightened. “Christ. You’ve committed to this, and you’re going to bring this whole goddamn family down with you, son.
You think you can protect her, think you can keep her safe through sheer force of will.
But all you're doing is painting a target on her back that gets bigger every day she stays close to you. "
“And you would have me hand her over to De Luca and let him do whatever he wants with her because it's easier than fighting!" My hands clench at my sides. “At least I’m not a goddamn coward.”
My father’s expression darkens until I think he might hit me. I stiffen as he jolts out of his seat, anticipating a blow. He rarely loses his composure, but I can feel the air crackling with violence.
"Yes!" The word explodes out of him. "That's exactly what I'd have you do! She's not family, Ronan. She's not our responsibility. She's a complication that's going to get people killed."
I feel my teeth grind together as I repeat the words that I’ve said ad nauseam since I walked into this room. "She's my wife."
My father’s eyes flash angrily. "A wife you've known for two weeks! A wife you married for your own selfish reasons! Don't pretend this is some great love story."
"I'm not pretending anything," I say evenly. "But she's under my protection now, and that means something. It means I don't hand her over to men who want to hurt her, no matter how politically convenient it might be."
We stare at each other from across the space between us, and I can see the exact moment he realizes I'm not going to back down.
"You're going to get her killed," he says quietly, his jaw tight. "Just like you got Siobhan killed."
"Maybe," I admit, the word burning my tongue. "But at least I'll know I tried to save her instead of throwing her to the wolves."
Padraigh's expression shifts, becomes calculating. "Fine. If you won't see reason, if you insist on keeping her, then at least get her out of Boston. Take her somewhere De Luca can't reach her while we clean up this mess."
That, I’ve already thought of. I just haven’t told Leila yet. "I'm taking her to Ireland," I say. "To Aulinnross.”
"The estate?" His eyebrows shoot up. "You're taking her to the family estate?"
I shrug, shoving my hands into my pockets as I look back at him unflinchingly.
I don’t entirely trust that he’s dropped the topic of giving her back, but this feels like progress.
"It's the safest place I can think of. Isolated, defensible, far enough from Boston that De Luca's reach won't extend there. "
Padraigh shakes his head. "You're making a mistake, son. A big one. But I can see you're not going to listen to reason."
I let out a breath. "No, I'm not."
He drops back into the chair, suddenly looking older than his sixty-two years. "Then God help us all."
A half-hour later, to my great relief, he’s gone. I find Leila in the kitchen alone, looking for tea supplies. She looks up when I enter, and I can see the questions in her eyes.
“Ida could do that for you,” I say automatically, gesturing to the kettle. I know what she’s going to say before the words even come out of her mouth, which is a strange, uncomfortably intimate feeling.
“I want to make tea for my mom and myself,” she says shortly. “What happened with your dad?”
"We're leaving Boston," I tell her without preamble. "Tonight."
Her hand stills on the tin of tea leaves. "Leaving? For where?" Her brows draw together. “Are we going back to the safe house?”
I shake my head. "Ireland. I have an estate there, completely secure. You'll be safe while we deal with the De Luca situation."
Leila’s face pales. “What? For how long?"
"As long as it takes." I lean against the doorway, studying her face. I don’t need to guess to see that she’s frightened. "Weeks, maybe months. However long it takes to put an end to Rocco De Luca and let things smooth out afterward. When the danger is past, I’ll bring you home."
She's quiet for a moment, processing. I’m surprised she doesn’t try to argue, but it impresses me. She’s smarter than that. And by now, she’s seen what De Luca is capable of. "What about my mother? She's in the middle of treatment, she can't just—I can’t just leave her and go that far away—"
"She comes with us," I interrupt. "Dublin has excellent medical care. I’ll fly in doctors from elsewhere, if need be. All of her treatment plans and medications will be transferred, and the money I’ll throw at the hospitals will ensure that nothing changes. She’ll be with you, as well, in a peaceful and luxurious environment.
I can’t think of a better situation for her recovery, honestly. "
Leila’s mouth drops open, and I see her struggling to absorb what I’ve just said. "Really? You'd do that?"
"She's family now," I say, the words slipping out before I can stop them. "Technically."
“Technically,” Leila echoes, her expression unreadable. A moment goes by before she speaks again.
"Thank you," she says softly. "I know this complicates things for you, having us both there."
I shrug. “Ensuring both of your safety can be complicated, but in some ways, things are easier if you and your mother are together. I can focus my security on two places instead of three. I’ll know where you both are, and I’ll be aware of the comings and goings in the house where you’re both staying. It’s better for everyone, I think.”
Leila takes a slow breath. “Okay,” she says softly. “When do we leave?”