The Devil and Her Details (Devils and Dreamers #1)

Chapter 1

DECLAN

If my uncle opens his mouth again, I’m going to put a bullet through it.

I would never understand why my father demanded on his deathbed that his idiot brother serve as my second in command.

I was convinced he’d only given Lorkan so much power, even temporarily, to test my patience.

That and to push me to find a bride sooner rather than later.

Because, naturally, the main thing on my father’s mind was chastising me for not finding love yet.

My father, the former fucking mafia boss, cared more about whose bed I would share for the next few decades than how I would take over the family legacy.

I suppose I had spent my entire life working toward the latter, whereas the former had never felt like a priority.

The list of women who wanted to be married to a Don was never-ending, so I never considered it a pressing issue.

When the time came, I would find someone kind and loyal enough to have an heir with.

Until then, my priority would be maintaining the Irish Mob’s control over Boston.

My father’s rule was responsible for overthrowing the Italians.

Though I wasn’t around to see it, from the stories I’ve heard, the war was an absolute blood bath, one that left the city in such disarray that no one dared fuck with us after that.

Especially after we rebuilt from the damage and made sure to help support political campaigns that would ensure our control over the city would go unthreatened.

It wasn’t too hard to get most of the city officials on our side, either, given that the Italian’s drug trafficking had started to take its toll on the community.

“God, it’s so sterile and dark here. What happened to all the artwork that used to hang on the walls?” my uncle complains.

“They probably took them down given the circumstances.”

“Well, it makes this place feel like a hospital basement. Or like someone died,” my uncle mutters under his breath in Irish.

My hand twitched, desperate to reach for the Glock tucked in my coat jacket. “Someone did die, Uncle,” I spit out, “that’s the whole reason why we’re here.”

Loyalty was never something my father would compromise on.

The Persians weren’t on anyone’s radar forty years ago.

Still, somehow my father caught wind of the spyware they had been developing and selling to anyone willing to buy it, including your neighborhood housewife who had an inkling that her husband had been cheating on her.

My father knew nearly nothing about technology, but he did know that he hated rats.

So when Naser Ahzimi approached my father with evidence that his head of security, and second cousin, had been feeding information to the Greeks for months, he felt forever indebted.

In that moment, Naser not only gained my father's trust but also a lifelong friendship. With my father’s support, Naser built his own empire in Boston’s Little Tehran, and the newly minted Persian Mafia became our strongest ally, which remains to this day.

Their friendship also lasted the length of both of their lives.

In their final moments, Naser used his own chest to block the bullet that was meant for my dad.

My father made sure I knew it. Made sure his best friend’s loyalty would never come into question, as he bled out from a stray bullet that had ricocheted off the banister and into his gut—a message from the Italians for messing with their business.

“Well, it wouldn’t have killed them to at least spruce up the place, a bit.

Make it feel like a place where we would want to have dinner instead of feeling like we’re headed to watch an autopsy,” my uncle scoffs, looking at the bodyguards blocking the massive wood-paneled door in front of us with disdain.

While it doesn’t surprise me to hear such vile language coming from my uncle, he is a Made Man after all, I can’t stop the rage that fills me at how cavalier he is.

The last time I stepped foot in the massive mansion that sits alongside the south shore of Massachusetts, it was covered head to toe in traditional Persian adornments and the most elegant paintings and sculptures I’d ever seen.

Now the walls and rooms are barren sans for the furniture, as if even the home itself is mourning the death of its owner.

I know their mourning all too well, know they are grieving not only the loss of their boss’s death, but also the death of my father.

Which is why I refuse to tolerate any disrespect.

I turn my head to my uncle so that he can see the rage in my eyes.

The jokes he made earlier would be the first and last pass I give him today.

He keeps his back straight, attempting to appear unfazed, but I know better.

I watch as a bead of sweat trickles down his neck, and I can practically smell the fear coming from him.

“Declan, it’s good to see you.” Arman, Naser’s head of security, is the first to speak. The man next to him is familiar to me as well.

“You too. Though I wish it could be in better circumstances.”

I get a nod in response.

“I guess I finally get to meet your new boss. Never understood why Naser was so hellbent on keeping us apart.” As close as our fathers were, and the sheer amount Naser used to boast about how incredible his only child was, it always surprised me how he had never introduced us.

It was a puzzle that had always bothered me.

Our dads were best friends, and Naser viewed me as his own child, yet I never met his son.

Arman gives me a smirk in response. “Probably because he knew the two of you together would unleash hell on earth.”

“Incredibly likely. You would think that’s what he would want though, no?”

“It can be hard to let go of what you know. And who you love.”

The truth behind Arman’s words rocks me to my core, freezing me in place. For a second, I see a look of mutual pain flash over his eyes. He breaks the moment by speaking again, “You can bring in one gun. Anything else has to stay behind.”

The house rules are second nature to me now. I hand over the gun that was tucked into my sock and the knives that lined my coat jacket. My uncle scoffs at the request but follows through anyway. Arman and his henchmen pat us down before opening the door behind them and standing aside.

My throat goes dry as I take in the familiar dining room table that stretches the length of the room.

Any important meeting, and even the non-important dinners, between my father and Naser happened in this room.

All of Naser’s old commanders have taken their seats, and everything feels so normal that I almost expect my father and Naser to stroll in five minutes late, laughing up a storm about whatever stupid prank they decided to pull.

For a moment, the tightness in my chest releases, until my uncle sits in the chair I would normally select, abruptly bringing me back to reality.

As I take my father’s seat, my seat, everyone’s eyes are on me.

Well, everyone except for the person to my left, who is feverishly typing endless lines of code on their computer screen.

It’s all gibberish to me, always has been, yet I can’t stop myself from staring at the string of numbers and letters.

The rhythmic typing of the keys gives me something to latch onto as my eyes move from the screen to the keyboard, and the delicate manicure is responsible for me practically falling into a trance.

Cyrus, Naser’s second in command, is the first to break the silence.

“We appreciate you joining us today, Declan. Now more than ever, it’s crucial we discuss the terms of our alliance and ensure justice is served to those who dared to threaten our control over the city and stole our family from us.

” He gestures for the staff to pour our drinks, officially opening our meeting.

Naser always insisted that negotiations needed to happen with a clear head while drinking hot tea from Iran, his home country.

While my father was always charmed by his musings, my uncle is not.

“You’ve wasted enough of our time, Cyrus, and I won’t have you waste any more. We came here to speak to the new boss. Naser’s heir. Not his friend who always rode his coattails,” my uncle spits, and I do my best not to strangle him then and there. His mouth is about to get him in trouble.

“His heir is present, Lorkan. I would have never started this meeting otherwise. To do so would be an insult to everyone in this room.” Cyrus’ tone carries a level of lethality that causes several men at the table to grip their weapons—ready to follow through on any command he gives against my uncle. Cyrus waves them down.

As if he didn’t have half a dozen men ready to murder him, my uncle continues his disrespectful tirade, “Well, I recognize every man in this room. So, unless you’re telling me one of you staged a coup and killed your own boss and my brother so one of you imbeciles could take over—”

Cyrus seethes. “How dare you. I will have you ki—”

“Or perhaps you’ve been lying to us this entire time. Keeping Naser’s heir disguised as a Commander—

“You will not question the loyalty or character of our former boss!” Cyrus stands up from his chair and charges at my uncle, who meets him right in the middle.

“I’ll do whatever the fuck I want until one of you decides to stop wasting my time and telling me and my nephew the truth.”

Everyone stays silent. Unsurprising, given my uncle doesn’t have the authority or frankly the respect to be throwing out demands.

He huffs at me as if that will bring me to his side.

As if he hadn’t spent the entire morning testing my limits, pushing me closer and closer to turning him into a target for my shooting practice.

I ignore him, no doubt furthering his irritation, and take the time to look at everyone sitting at the table one by one.

Every face is known to me. Every face but the woman sat next to me.

Except the more I look at her, the more familiar she becomes.

Her eyes are a deep shade of brown I’ve seen before…

The curve of her nose and her high cheekbones…

I can’t shake the feeling in my gut that I know her somehow.

She catches me looking, narrows her eyes, and flares her nostrils.

Holy shit.

I’ve seen that exact expression a dozen times before. It can’t be, can it? It has to be. Why else would she be in his seat? My heart starts racing in realization. No wonder Naser wanted to keep his heir’s identity hidden.

“Naser’s heir is present in the room with us, Uncle. No need to throw a fit.” I pick a piece of lint off my suit and flick it off, hoping everyone believes my facade of calm and composed.

“Oh, so this is all one big joke to you all? Trying to push me until I snap. I will not be treated like this!” My uncle slams a fist on the table to assert his dominance. No one is moved.

“There’s no need to throw a tantrum, Uncle. If you took a moment to think instead of letting your rage take over, you would come to realize what I have.” I give him a pointed look that forces him to sit back in his seat.

“And what, darling nephew, would that be?” he seethes.

“Naser’s heir. The new boss of the Persian Empire. His daughter has been sitting next to me this whole time.” My words fall over the room as I turn my gaze to the stunning woman sitting next to me. She gives me a small nod followed by a smirk that screams ‘Took you long enough to figure out.’

“A woman? You think Naser would let a woman take over his legacy?” my uncle spits vehemently, shaking his head.

“Allow me to make a few things clear, Lorkan. The first is that my father didn’t let me do anything.

I earned my keep. I always do,” Naser’s daughter finally speaks, her voice so melodic it sends a jolt through my body.

“Second, my father never cared about where you come from or who you are. He cared about loyalty, intelligence, and work ethic. All three things I possess in spades. All three things make me an excellent boss.”

Well said.

My uncle is less convinced. “You can’t be serious? Sweetheart, I appreciate you wanting to step up and take over for your father, but this job is not for the frail or faint of heart.”

Her eyes narrow to slits. “I’m aware. I’m neither of those things.”

I look at every member of Naser’s former cavalry.

Every man looked at Naser’s daughter with nothing but respect and care. It was clear she had their unconditional support. And if Naser wanted her at the helm, then so did I. It was that simple.

“Declan, are you going to say something?” My uncle looks to me as if I’m the one who’s making a fool of himself.

“Naser has made his choice. And I respect that fully.”

An unsettling silence comes over the room, the only noise coming from the grandfather clock sitting at the other side of the room.

The hands tick as I wait for whatever pending explosion is bound to come.

If my uncle were smart, he would know better than to push the Persians.

Know better than to push me. But intelligence and self-restraint were never my uncle’s forte, which is why I have no doubts my father put me in charge of babysitting his petulant younger brother.

If my uncle had seemed pissed before, he’s now reaching a level of outrage and distress that matches that of a hungry, screaming toddler.

“You. Cannot. Be. Serious,” he snaps. “If you want to ruin your reputation, go ahead, but you are our strongest allies. Your decisions impact us as well. And I won’t be made a laughing stock because you want to impose your feminist values on us. ”

The entire room shakes as every man at the table stands up in rage and moves to draw their weapons. On my left, I see Naser’s daughter, still seated, raise a hand to stop her soldiers. She turns to me, cocking an eyebrow, her expression screaming, ‘Fix this before I have to do it myself.’

“Uncle, the only one embarrassing us is you. Now sit down before I get an—”

“You can fuck right off, Declan. I was your father’s second hand when you were in diapers. I won’t be pushed around by you, and I sure as shit won’t work with some bitch who doesn’t know what she’s doing.” He leans over me to yell right in her face. I will have none of that.

A second goes by before I pull out my Glock, aim it at my uncle’s knee, and pull the trigger.