Chapter 3
COLLINS
Roman Bruno the Second is the only mobster who fills my chest with a gust of fear.
Alessio De Luca, the Capo to the De Luca family in the south of Boston, is terrifying in that he’s tall, imposing, and possessive.
His family runs drugs, and now, arms dealing, by way of agreement with Maeve months ago. Sloane was forced to marry him for an alliance, and although they had a rocky start, that man is devoted to her, and she to him. As it is, Sloane is expecting twins, due by the end of the year.
He has a code that will not endanger his family.
Roman has no such reservations. He’s a thin man with ropey muscles, dark hair, pale brown skin and eyes that make me think of a cold, listless reptile. He scans me from head to toe, ignoring my shudder, tongue flicking out to taste his lips of something unholy.
He’s worse than my sister and brother-in-law, because he runs girls.
I’ve seen the looks in their eyes, the bruises on their bodies.
A few of them from the club, I was able to convince them to go to the ER.
I thought I could talk them into running, or turn Roman in, but whatever he does is too much. They never break their silence.
“Collins O’Brien,” he purrs, leaning back in his leather chair. The office is dark, walls painted black with thick pink neon signs of idiotic ‘bar’ or ‘open’ in some terrible script. It’s scummy just like its owner.
“Roman,” I greet, keeping my hand on my bag. It’s heavy; I can use it as a weapon if I need it.
“How long have you been working here, exactly? One year, two?”
Shifting my weight, I keep my eyes on the two guards by the exit, and the one behind him. I could outrun them. “Three, next month.”
“Three years,” he whistles slowly. His eyes look to a guard and I hold my ground. “And in all that time, Ace just lets you come in here, right into the lion’s den, shaking those tits into anyone’s face for, what? Money?”
Glaring, I keep control of my temper. Unfortunately, stubbornness and a short fuse run in the O’Brien line, but I will not lose it now in the face of danger. I have to be smart, and clever.
Watching his smile grow and the way his fingers move, I know he’s playing with me. He wants to catch me unaware, but I won’t make it easy for him.
“Sure, money. Why? Need to check my deductions?”
He smiles and it’s not nice. “Smart mouth. Just like your little sister. Or maybe she got it from you?” He sits forward, knuckles tapping into the dark desk.
Black, just like his clothing, and just like his heart.
“You can play coy all you want, little mouse. But we both know you’re the smart one in the family.
Ferguson loved to brag about it whenever he came here. ”
The strip club was holy ground—they could talk and brag here. Act as friends and then the next day, go back to slaughtering each other.
It doesn’t surprise me to hear that Pops talked about me to all his enemies. If he could brag about how obedient I was, it was a mark of honor to the rest of this horrible community.
I didn’t want to be demure, or obedient, but if I wanted one moment of peace, I had to play my role perfectly.
God forbid if I didn’t.
“What do you want?” I narrow my eyes, pushing my glasses up my nose. “If this is about my set, I think my tips speak for themselves.”
“They do,” he agrees, nodding. “But seeing as how I lost quite a bit of money because of your brother-in-law and how your sister is cutting into my territory, I’m inclined to look for new revenue streams.”
My body goes cold. Maeve is cutting into his profits? I knew about his attempted bullshit deal with Lex by way of Sloane, but if Maeve is screwing with his stock, that doesn’t bode well for me.
“Such as?” I cross my arms, doing my best to summon Sloane’s attitude. I could really use her confidence right now. “I don’t do tricks on my back. I have standards.”
His eyes scan me again and he laughs. “I can see why. Who would want such a boney thing?”
I don’t let him see how deeply his words cut me. I refuse to show weakness here, in front of a hungry panther when he’s ready to rip my head off.
“No, I’m thinking, maybe a ransom?”
“Ransom?” I glare at the smug asshat. “You want to ransom me to Ace?” He’s a stupid man if so.
Not only will Maeve not pay it, but she’s already been acting strangely since she took over for Pops. Not eating, and rarely sleeping. This might be the thing that pushes her to kill him.
“More like my business.” He opens his hands, and I’m having a hard time following.
Is he having a stroke? That’d make things easier for me.
“I’m going to put a contract together and give it to Ace.
An alliance. Your sister likes alliances, right?
Whereas she’ll get a truce with me, access to my business and I’ll get that dowry I know Ferguson had set up for you whenever he allowed you to marry. ”
Dowry, marriage. My brows furrow, mouth pouting as the words sink in, various explanations flying through my brain.
Pops always said he had money set aside for us but a dowry? Roman wants my dowry?
What is this? The medieval ages?
My mouth works faster than I can keep up. “You’re going to offer marriage to Ace in exchange for money?” He smiles, enjoying the way I’m putting the information together.
Then a ball of dread drops into my gut. “You’re going to ask for my hand in marriage. You want to buy me.”
Roman’s smile grows as the smugness rolls off of him in thick waves. I barely swallow down the bile. “Just think of the alliance, Collins. A smart woman like you? The children we’d make.” He bites his bottom lip, lustful eyes staring to the apex of my thighs.
He certainly doesn’t think I’m disgusting now. If anything, I’m a pretty vagina with legs and he’s a big, bad wolf ready to devour it. I shudder. No, thank you.
“Of course, no more dancing for you. You’ll learn to love the Bruno compound.”
My fingers tremble. I’ve heard horror stories of that house on the edge of town, opposite of the O’Brien mansion. Women go in there and never return.
“Ace will never allow it,” I argue, standing still. Only my bottom lip quivering gives away the fear currently sloshing in my stomach. “She’ll never agree.”
Winking, he gestures to a guard behind me. “What do you think your sister will care more about? You or the clan?”
I hate how my chest seizes with fright. Maeve cares about the clan. She married Sloane off for the betterment of it. She’ll do the same to me, even to a monster like Roman Bruno.
Glancing over my shoulder, he flicks his fingers, as if he’s done with his plate at dinner. “Take my fiancée home. Can’t have her getting lost before the big day.”
When the guard’s hand closes around my arm, I jerk away, temper flaring. “Don’t,” I threaten, glaring at the Capo. “You’re not going to be my husband. I won’t fucking allow it.”
Those dark eyes brighten and a dimple pulls at the corner of his mouth.
“Oh, I can’t wait to break you, wife. Preferably on your knees, my cock down your throat.
” He chuckles and bile coats my tongue, ready to spew it onto his shoes.
“I’ll bet you’re a virgin. Won’t that be nice? I’ll be the first to ruin you.”
“Fuck you,” I curse, surging forward, temper snapping. I tried to hold out, prove I could be good. Even now, Pops’ lessons are engrained into my brain—like I have to be good to survive.
But I won’t be with Roman.
A guard catches me, strong arm cradling my stomach before I can reach the Capo. My body bows, fighting off his hold. “If you touch me, I’ll carve out your eyeballs and stick them into a jar on my desk.”
“Ah, that infamous O’Brien fire. I wondered if you inherited it or if you were always a good daughter.” That dimple pulls tighter. “Sleep well, wife. Expect my proposal first thing in the morning.”