23. Kristoff
TWENTY-THREE
KRISTOFF
Two Irish mobsters sat opposite me in my downtown office, and even though all I wanted to do was lunge across the desk and strangle them both, I forced myself to remain calm.
Thank fuck they hadn’t come to the house.
I wasn’t afraid of them, but everything about the way they carried themselves screamed criminals. My wife would have been deeply concerned to see two men like these sitting across from her.
She was worried enough about her firstborn marrying a man we’d never met.
“It took two of you to deliver the message, huh?” I asked, leaning back in my chair while we watched each other warily.
If I judged it right, the older brother—Aiden Callahan—wasn’t too thrilled about this wedding either. Maybe I could use that to my advantage.
“Well, Tyran wanted to make sure to offer his private jet to bring you and your family to the wedding,” Kyran, the twin, drawled. “He’s very excited.”
“And he wanted you to meet some of the family,” Aiden said. “Of course, he planned to come himself, but something came up.”
“Well, you can tell him I have my own jet, and I don’t see why we’re rushing this wedding. It’s very… unexpected.”
“You’d think a man your age would have learned to expect the unexpected by now,” Aiden retorted wryly.
“And I think we both know that this is a mistake,” I answered coldly. “I know who you are, and Sienna doesn’t belong in your world.”
“I agree.”
“I don’t,” Kyran spat back, glaring at his brother. “Is this why you insisted on coming? To fucking spoil it for our brother?”
Aiden didn’t look at his brother, instead keeping his gaze locked on me. “I think we both know there is nothing deterring Tyran from marrying this girl.”
“This girl is my daughter.”
“Then maybe you can get your daughter to stop this nonsense,” Aiden suggested.
“Don’t you fucking dare,” Kyran hissed. “Tyran will stop at nothing for her, and you know that.”
“And I will stop at nothing to make sure my daughter is safe and happy.”
“Tyran will make her happy,” Kyran assured. “He’s a good man.”
I recalled the day I rescued my daughter from that blasted auction. I saw that asshole—Tyran Callahan—there, which told me there was nothing good about that man.
Standing in the square in Porto Alegre, Brazil, I watched women being auctioned off, one by one, and kept a gaze on the only one who mattered to me.
Sienna hadn’t noticed me yet, a woman next to her comforting her and holding her up.
My stomach churned watching the terrorized women, all dressed in white nightgowns, being sold in this creepy-as-fuck portside town.
Sienna stood on that stage among a dozen other frightened girls and women, her wide and haunted eyes dominating her pale, dirt-smeared face, stamped with terror.
Every so often, she blinked, her gaze dazed and unfocused, as though she were barely seeing around her.
Fuck. What had they done to her?
Bile burned up my throat. My ears rang with rage and my fists clenched so tightly my nails cut into my palms. I wanted to tear through every person in that room with my bare hands.
I wanted to drag Sienna off that stage, shield her from every filthy stare, and make anyone who had touched her beg for mercy.
Then the bidding began.
I raised my hand.
Another bid came.
I raised it again.
And another bid came in against mine.
I sought out the fucker who dared to bid for my daughter and my eyes locked on a tall, dark figure. He was watching me with a clenched jaw and blue flames.
There was no fucking way I would let him near Sienna.
I stopped caring how high the amount climbed. I would drain every account, sell every asset, and walk away with nothing but the clothes on my back if that was what it took. Let them have my money. Let them have everything but her.
Because there was no fucking chance in hell I was going home to my wife without Sienna.
“Sold.”
I let out a relieved breath. I won the bid.
Sienna kept her expression blank. She walked off the stage on quivering legs, blood staining her skin as she was led like an animal toward me.
The armed guard gripped her forearm so hard I could see it turning an ugly red from here.
I took a threatening step forward when a hand landed on me and warned, “Don’t.”
It was a single word by the only man who I trusted here—Alexei Nikolaev who was here with Kingston Ashford—but fuck it was hard to do nothing and watch someone manhandle my daughter who looked scared out of her mind.
My hand rested on my weapon, ready to fight if need be, as she was shuffled to me. She shuddered, and as she neared, I surveyed the state of her.
Her chest rose and fell, her breathing erratic. There was a cut on her lip, bruises in the shape of fingers on her neck.
Those motherfuckers.
“Here’s your bitch,” the armed guard spat.
I caught my daughter as she stumbled forward, her eyes locked on me.
Her bottom lip quivered. She licked her lip, then winced, probably from the pain that cut caused.
“It’s okay. We’ll talk about it on the plane,” I reassured her, whispering, and watching above her for any possible threat.
Then we disappeared from that fucked-up place.
I hadn’t cried in my adult life, but after the state I’d found Sienna in, my eyes had burned with tears.
Sienna had pulled herself together by the time we made it home. She looked composed, but I knew better.
She had begged me not to tell her mother. After everything she’d been through, I couldn’t bring myself to betray her trust. So, after much pleading, I gave her my word.
But Sienna was never the same after that day.
I sent her to therapists. More than one. She dismissed every one of them, refusing to open up. She built a wall around herself and hid behind it, insisting she was fine.
But every time I looked at her, I could see the damage she was trying so desperately to bury.
So, I made it my mission to keep her away from violent men like the Callahans. From mobsters and that world that might drag her back into the darkness she was fighting so hard to escape.
Then she came to me with an admission: she set up Tyran Callahan and handed him to the FBI on a silver platter.
That day, I saw it.
She was in love with the criminal, but she knew he was all kinds of bad for her and that’s why I hid her.
“Your brother is a convicted criminal and a mobster.” I smiled coldly. “Kind of a stretch to call him a good man, don’t you think?”
“Then stop her from marrying my brother,” Aiden deadpanned. A subtle threat flickered in his eyes.
Except, it would seem he didn’t know Sienna at all, because if he knew her, he’d know she was stubborn as fuck.
“Listen, we’re going to be a family soon.” Kyran attempted his diplomacy while Aiden and I glared at each other. “We can’t get in the middle of them. We can only support them. That’s what family does.”
“With all due respect, you and your family can go fuck yourselves,” I growled.
“I will tell you this and you can relay this message to your brother. If I see a single tear or bruise on my daughter, I will come for all of you.” I leaned my elbows on the desk, glowering at them.
“I don’t give a fuck who your alliance is with or how dangerous you are.
I’ll turn your world to ashes, even if it means destroying everything I’ve built. Am I clear?”
My words hung in the air and the tense atmosphere practically swallowed all the oxygen in the room.
“Crystal clear,” Aiden retorted wryly.
“We’ll see you at the wedding,” Kyran said. Then the Callahan brothers stood up, straightened their jackets and fixed their cufflinks with a sardonic curve to their mouths, and disappeared through the door.