The Devil I Don't Know

by LK Shaw

  It seems my wife has a tender heart. Considering her hope for the future of our marriage, it shouldn’t surprise me. I need to explain in a way that won’t hurt her, because that isn’t my intent.

  “You are my wife,” I begin. “With that role comes a certain level of distance. Becoming too comfortable with people can lead to an imbalance within the syndicate. I—and by extension, you—rule over these people in a fair manner. We don’t befriend them.”

  Brenna’s expression falls. “I see.” Her words say one thing, but her tone says otherwise.

  “That doesn’t mean you can’t be friendly,” I try to reassure her.

  She lets out a small, disappointed sigh and turns away from me to stare out her window. “It just means don’t expect to find any real friends.”

  My fingers itch to reach out and comfort her, but I resist the temptation. It’s best if I keep my distance as well.

  Chapter 14

  Brenna

  * * *

  Throughout my whole life it’s been a challenge making friends. Other young women my age, who are part of the Irish families within our organization, tend to give me a wide berth. Whether it’s because of who Grand-da is or my reserved nature, I’m not sure. I expect it’s a combination of both. Apparently that isn’t going to change, even with a new family. The knowledge only makes me more determined to build a friendship with Francesca. It seems like she’s the only person Jacob is encouraging me to have a relationship with.

  I need to stop sulking. My husband probably thinks I’m a silly child. Shaking off this sullen mood that doesn’t do me any good, I straighten my shoulders. Caitlín would be appalled if she saw me. I could learn a little something from my fearless sister.

  “Am I going to be the one who does all the talking whenever the four of us are in the car together? If so, any trip we take is going to be dreadfully boring.” I’m making a big assumption that after today, Jacob will ever let me come with him anywhere again. He’d probably prefer I stay home.

  “My apologies,” he says, but he does nothing to continue any further conversation, which is beginning to annoy me. Time for another tactic.

  “Giovanni, I understand you’ve been assigned to be my bodyguard?”

  The man in question shifts almost uncomfortably at being addressed directly. “Yes, Mrs. Ricci.”

  I huff out a small growl. I’m breaking Jacob’s distance rule on this one. I don’t care. “If you and I are going to be spending any amount of time together, then you better start calling me Brenna. Even if my husband is the one paying you, that still makes me your boss, so don’t even think about arguing.”

  Beside me, Jacob chuckles softly. Only his profile is visible, but I swear Pierce smothers a smile. I’m going to win that man over, even if it kills me.

  “Yes, ma’am,” he says.

  I bite back my retort. No need to push too hard quite yet. I’m sure it’s going to take some getting used to. For both of us.

  We finally pull to a stop in front of a large, three-story home. It’s less ostentatious than the brownstone where my family lives. I’ve always thought my grandfather flaunts how wealthy and powerful he is. If Jacob’s father chose this almost understated home, then it speaks to his lack of need to be flashy to impress anyone.

  A lovely, silver-haired woman greets us. “Good afternoon, Emilio.” She turns to me, and her smile is welcoming. “You must be Emilio’s wife. I’m Marta, Mr. Ricci’s assistant. Please, come in.”

  “Thank you,” I say.

  “Your father is in his office. Feel free to go up.” She gestures to the stairs.

  Jacob heads that way, and unsure if I’m supposed to or not, I choose to follow. Pierce remains behind. We reach the second floor and stop before a door. My husband doesn’t knock right away. I study him. Everything about this man oozes self-assurance and power. I have yet to see him ill at ease. Except I sense he is.

  I don’t know why I do it, but I find myself sliding my hand inside his. He jerks, like he forgot I was beside him, and swivels his head to stare down at me. I give him what I hope is a reassuring smile. To my surprise, he gives my fingers a gentle squeeze and finally knocks.

  A muffled voice from within calls out. “Enter.”

  Jacob opens the door and we both step inside. My eyes are drawn to the man sitting behind the desk, and I get my first full look at my new father-in-law. He’s a complete contrast to my grandfather. Grand-da exudes power. This man seems almost withered and tired. He rises slowly, but with confidence. He takes the both of us in, pausing on our still entwined hands, before meeting our eyes.

  “Emilio, I’m glad you could join me. Brenna, is it?” he asks.

  Should I be insulted that he’s not even sure of my name? Instead, I paste on my most pleasant smile and release Jacob’s hand to reach out and shake my father-in-law’s. “Yes, sir. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you. I’m sorry we didn’t get to speak at the wedding.”

  My mother would be proud. She knows how much of an introvert I am and how hard it is for me to meet new people. He waves me off as though it’s no concern. Or perhaps I’m of no concern.

  “You shouldn’t have held a private wedding. It was disrespectful to the syndicate,” he grumbles. “Don’t forget why we formed this alliance, Emilio.”

  Next to me, Jacob stiffens. “I haven’t forgotten. You know as well as I that no disrespect was intended. I’ve already begun introducing my wife to the families. Brenna and I visited Umberto Benetti’s widow today. We will also be holding a reception in two weeks and inviting everyone to attend.”

  We will? It takes every ounce of willpower not to dart a surprised glance my husband’s way. Not with the way his father is studying me. Judging me. Between him and Pierce, I feel as though they’ve both found me lacking as a wife in some way. I stand tall, refusing to be intimidated by my father-in-law’s critical glare.

  “Yes,” I add. “My mother has been generous enough to offer her assistance with the planning.”

  Please forgive me, Mother. My parents and I are extremely close, and aside from when I was initially told I’d be marrying Jacob, we rarely don’t get along. The tension between these two is thick and fraught with anger.

  How awful to grow up in a household like this.

  “Good. That should help to soothe some of the discontent,” my father-in-law says. “Now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, if you’ll excuse us, I need to speak with my son about business.”

  The dismissal isn’t a question. Jacob turns to me. “If you’re hungry, have Marta show you to the kitchen. Otherwise, Pierce can direct you to my rooms. We shouldn’t be long.”

  He leans down, brushes a quick kiss across my cheek, and walks me to the door. Once I’m in the hallway, he closes it behind me. The latch doesn’t catch though. The hinges creak and a small crack appears.

  “You seem to be adjusting to having a wife already.” My father-in-law’s voice floats through the slivered opening.

  Indecision wars within me. Give them privacy or stay and maybe learn something? Curiosity wins out. I take a step closer and cock my head in hopes the conversation gets louder.

  “Yes, we both know our duty.”

  There’s a sting of hurt at the bitterness in Jacob’s tone, but I squash it. Just because this began as a duty for both of us doesn’t mean our marriage can’t turn into something else. Unless that brief kiss was merely for show.

  “I hope you consummated the marriage, at least.”

  “What does or doesn’t happen between Brenna and me is none of your business,” my husband snaps.

  The confrontation with Grand-da flashes in my mind. The same controlled rage is in Jacob’s tone as there was when he threatened my grandfather. I imagine a similar deadly expression on his face.

  “Don’t forget who you’re speaking to. I’ll be dead soon, but until that time comes you will show respect,” the older man barks back. “Your marriage is but signatures on a flimsy piece of paper. It means nothi
ng until her virgin blood has been spilled.”

  Bile rises in my throat. My marriage may not mean anything to him, but it means more than just a piece of paper to me. Unable to bear what my husband’s response might be, I swiftly turn and nearly collide with Pierce. Oh god, had he heard them? I can’t bear to see his mocking stare. With my head down, I shoulder past him and race down the stairs, desperate to escape.

  Marta appears just as I reach the bottom of the steps. “Is everything all right, dear?”

  I skid to a halt and paste on a fake smile, trying to control my breathing. “Yes, it’s fine, thank you. Would you mind showing me where the kitchen is? I believe I’d like a glass of water, please.”

  “Of course. Right this way.” She leads me through the house. “Here we go. If you’d like to have a seat, I’ll get it for you.”

  I shake my head. “Thank you, but you don’t have to. Just point me to where the glasses are, and I’m happy to help myself.”

  Marta hesitates, and I try not to snap at her. Thankfully, she listens. “Glasses are in the cabinets to the left of the sink over there.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I’ll be in the study near the stairs if you need anything,” she says gently, as though she can sense my riotous emotions, and finally leaves me in blessed peace.

  I’m not really thirsty, but I fill the glass anyway and sit at the table. Absently, I strum my thumb along the outside of it while I think about the conversation I overheard. And, more importantly, what I’m going to do about it.

  Chapter 15

  Jacob

  * * *

  My vision goes red. If anyone but my father dared to speak about Brenna that way, I’d put a bullet through his brain. It still doesn’t mean I’ll allow it.

  “I’ve always respected your position as the head of this syndicate. That will never change. However, any conversation involving my marriage or my wife is off limits. In that regard you will show me—and her—the same respect,” I grind out.

  The knock on the door halts my father’s response. We stare at each other for several beats, neither giving an inch.

  “Enter,” he finally snaps, his eyes blazing with anger, never leaving mine.

  Pierce steps inside. He casually moves nearer to me, as though sensing my volatile emotions. I’m sure he’s picked up on the tension in the room. It isn’t hard to miss.

  “Since that topic is closed, we need to discuss the intel we got from Enzo yesterday,” I say.

  After another tense moment, my father finally takes a seat. His face has paled several shades since Brenna and I first entered the room. It still hasn’t processed that he’s dying, despite the evidence of his poor health.

  “What did you learn?” he asks.

  I unbutton my suit jacket and lower myself into the leather chair. Pierce squeezes into the one next to me, his massive frame barely fitting.

  “According to Enzo, the Russians intend to intercept the arms deal we have scheduled tomorrow. Pierce and I, along with several of our soldiers, will be there to stop them. We plan on keeping at least one of them alive and see what information we can get.”

  Not only do I want to know who was behind Umberto’s murder, but we still haven’t managed to discover the traitor within our organization.

  “Have you notified Paulie of this trap you’ve set?” My father’s voice is flat and tired.

  “I hadn’t realized I needed to check in with him,” I reply, barely holding back my irritation. There is only so much patience I can maintain, and I’m about out. Two weeks ago, every one of our captains pledged their loyalty to me. A fact the man before me seems to have forgotten. I no longer answer to anyone. They answer to me.

  “Since you’ve been gone so long, Paulie has been vital in the fight against our enemies.”

  I ignore the dig regarding my absence. “I’m sure he has. However, as I’m now head of the syndicate, it’s important to show my men that they can trust me to do what’s best for us. If I need counsel, I’m sure Uncle Paulie will be able to offer his insight. Until then, I’m more than capable of running this organization. Now, unless we have anything else to discuss, I need to go check on my wife.”

  Without waiting for a dismissal, I rise and button my suit jacket. No matter how many times I sit in this office, it’s always smothering. I turn and leave, Pierce following behind me. As soon as I’m in the hallway, it’s like I can finally breathe easier.

  “Is Brenna in my rooms?”

  “I believe she may be downstairs.”

  A note in his tone draws my attention. I glance in his direction. If it were anyone else, they’d see an emotionless mask. But I know my cousin almost as well as I know myself.

  “What happened?” I ask.

  “She was standing outside your father’s office.”

  Shit. How much had she heard? We reach the bottom of the stairs, and Marta steps out of the study. There’s a wariness to her.

  “Where’s my wife?” I growl.

  “In the kitchen.”

  I pivot on my heel and set out to find her. Sure enough, Brenna is at the table with a glass of water between her hands. There’s a far away expression on her face mixed with a hint of sadness. The urge to kill someone rushes through me. I study her a moment longer. She releases a long sigh, closes her eyes for a moment and then opens them again.

  Before I can announce my presence, she rises, but then her gaze lands on me and she gasps. “Jacob, you scared me.”

  That name from her lips is the sweetest song, and just like that, my cock is hard. I have to stifle my groan. “I apologize. You seemed deep in thought, and I didn’t want to disturb you.”

  “Are you and your father finished with your…discussion?” she asks.

  “Yes. If you’re ready to go, we can leave.”

  “Let me wash my glass quick.”

  “The housekeeper can take care of that,” I tell her, not wanting either of us to stay in this suffocating house a second longer.

  Her hesitation is evident, but she complies and places the glass in the sink. We leave the kitchen and head to the foyer where only Pierce waits. I’m glad Marta isn’t in sight. Who knows what she might report to my father.

  Brenna avoids my cousin’s gaze. This is what this house does to people. It turns you into a weaker version of your true self. Or maybe it’s my father that does that. Either way, I hate seeing my wife like this. I want the woman whose eyes flashed fire like they did yesterday. The one who, despite her fears, faces things head on. I want the woman from this morning who dared me to deny her coming with me.

  The atmosphere in the town car is different than before we’d arrived. When my wife hadn’t been trying to fill the silence, it had been quiet, but not uncomfortable. I glance at my watch. It’s been several hours since we ate breakfast.

  “Are you hungry?” I ask. It’s time I make more of an effort.

  “I could probably eat.”

  “Giovanni, please take us to Fratelli’s,” I direct him.

  He nods. “Yes, Mr. Ricci.”

  I turn back to Brenna. “I hope Italian is okay?”

  “Considering I married into an Italian family, I expect it better be.” A small smile plays along her lips, and a sense of relief washes over me. She seems to have found her sense of humor again.

  I let out a quiet chuckle. “We do take our food quite seriously.”

  “I’ve noticed,” she adds drily. “I have a feeling I’m going to have to add several new dishes to my limited repertoire of what I know how to cook. I’m sure after a while you’ll get tired of shepherd’s pie, boxty, and coddle.”

  “Considering I’ve only ever heard of one of those, I’m a little leery of the others.” I narrow an eye, and she giggles.

  Then she lifts a shoulder. “What can I say? You Italians love your pasta, while us hearty Irish love our potatoes, which all three of those are made with. The recipes have been passed down for generations on my mother’s side dating back to the e
arly 1800s.”

  I don’t eat a lot of carbs, despite my ancestry. “I’m sure that whatever you make will be delicious.”

  A small bit of pink creeps up her neck. “I’ll remember you said that when the time comes for me to test out new recipes and I need a guinea pig,” she says with a cheeky grin.

  “Whatever Jacob doesn’t want to eat, you can always send my way. I love food, and I’m not picky.” Pierce casually throws the words out.

  Brenna’s eyes go wide and she blinks slowly like an owl. In a single second, a dazzling smile lights up her entire face and my heart freezes in my chest at how fucking beautiful she is. My cousin isn’t a man of many words, but the ones he use always have meaning. She may not know it, but those right there are words of approval. It would seem my brave little wife has made a new conquest.

  “I sense a challenge,” she tells him.

  “My stomach looks forward to it,” he volleys back.

  Conversation comes a little easier after that, although Pierce doesn’t join in again. Brenna includes Giovanni, who retains a bit of reticence, but soon, even he falls to my wife’s charm. The entire ride to the restaurant, and even continuing on through the day, there’s a glow to her. I find my gaze drifting to her often. Her request for caring may not be so difficult after all.

  Chapter 16

  Brenna

  * * *

  The past two days of my marriage have gone better than I expected. If I don’t include the awful visit to my father-in-law’s house, that is. Or the fact that poor Gio had been forced to take me to a grocery store owned by a family within the organization so I could shop for the week. It’s going to take a bit for both of us to get comfortable with the bodyguard arrangement.