“Don’t start with me. Don’t do the thing with your eyes.” Emilia was looking at me now, her dark gaze transfixed on my lips before she allowed her attention to wander up. “You always give me that look, but you know nothing can happen, so—”
“Yeah, I know,” I snapped. “I remember the damn rule.” How could I possibly forget?
March of last year, The League leaders had gathered at Emilia’s home in Sicily for an unprecedented vote, which established me as a joint leader of Ireland.
But before that fateful vote, Emilia and I had managed a few moments of privacy. We’d kissed like we were starved for each other. She’d torn my shirt off in a rush, her nails clawing at my back, nearly drawing blood during our shared lust.
Then my cousin Cole and Sebastian’s sister, Alessia, walked in on us, preventing us from having sex. And our mouths never touched again after that night.
Because after the vote, Emilia had pulled me aside and told me the shittiest fecking news ever. Rule one of The League: romantic relationships between League families of other countries are strictly forbidden, and that includes sex.
That rule had been a gut shot. A left punch from my brother—whose fighting was notorious for causing significant damage.
I couldn’t believe Emilia hadn’t warned me about the rule before the vote. She’d placed The League above her own feelings, believing it was more important I join than for us to discover if we might have a future together.
“You’d think if we can have more than one leader in Ireland, then—”
“That’s different. Same country,” she cut me off, like she always did whenever we argued about the so-called sacred first rule of The League.
I understood The League’s reasoning for the rule, but that didn’t mean I had to like it.
“And you may act like the king of one-night stands, but you’ll want more from me. More than I can give.”
And there it was. Had she rehearsed and memorized those lines word for word? She never missed a beat in her delivery, same as the last five times when we did our little back-and-forth like this.
Emilia sure as hell didn’t lack confidence. But her words always hurt more than I’d cared to admit. She could handle sex without growing attached, but apparently, I was too soft. I’d be a bloody “victim” to love.
“Sean.” Emilia palmed my cheek, a contrast to her cold words.
“This arrangement with me as one of the leaders is most likely temporary. When I signed on, I thought we’d take down The Alliance within a year, and I’d be done. So, why can’t we—”
“Your family is still connected. Even if you left, it wouldn’t change the rules,” she interrupted, and it also felt like a blow to the balls. But it also sounded as though she’d considered the idea. “You won’t want to get out, though. Your eyes are now open to the darkness. Do you think you will be able to just forget and ignore everything you’ve seen?”
I dragged my palm down my face, frustrated with that bit of truth. Hell, she was right. I wouldn’t be able to turn a blind eye to what I now knew. Alliance or not.
It was late. And maybe I was too exhausted to tangle with her anymore tonight. “Why is it that I only see you when you need my help, or you need to release tension by training?” There went my mouth.
I had other ideas on how to release tension. And the longer I stood directly in front of Emilia, the closer I’d get to opening my big mouth again and describing in vivid detail how great our bodies would feel together, tangled between the sheets.
“You wouldn’t avoid me so much, otherwise, if you didn’t want to—”
“Tonight was about releasing tension.” Her crisp words were a flat line to my heart.
“Taking down those gun runners?” Why was I surprised that was how she chose to wind down? Some women did yoga. Others stress cleaned or shopped. Emilia took down bad guys to work loose the knots in her body.
And now that I’d joined her world, one I had no clue existed two years ago, I understood that. I’d watched my cousin Cole transform into someone tougher and stronger when he’d been forced to step in as leader, and I felt those changes happening to me now as well.
I’d first blamed Sebastian for bringing the danger into our lives, and then my brother blamed himself since his issues with a now deceased crime boss had placed us in the crosshairs of The Alliance in the first place. But the deeper I became entrenched in League affairs, the more I just blamed criminals for everything. So many people were tainted by greed and power, and the world needed cleansing from the sins of the likes of The Alliance.
Yeah, she was right. My eyes were almost too open.
Emilia peeked at the guy squirming against his bike before focusing back on me, her hand no longer on my chest and feeling the intense beats. “I’m sorry this has taken so long, though,” she said, catching me off guard. “Sebastian and I had hoped we’d wrap up everything before his daughter was born last year.”
“Holly and Sebastian’s baby is now a year old,” I said under my breath. “And Luca Moreau is still living free after everything he did.”
“Trust me, the idea that Luca of all people is out there and not dead or inside a League prison bothers me more than it troubles you.” She folded her arms and lifted her chin, her red lips taunting me. Screaming for me. I wanted to suck that bottom lip. Watch those lips wrap around my cock while my hand tangled in her hair.
Bloody hell. I couldn’t think straight around this woman. I couldn’t separate work from desire.
“Luca will pay for his sins. He’ll pay for what he did to Alessia. But he’s the reason we have so much intel on The Alliance. The plan for him to weasel his way into the depths of their organization is working.”
“You’re more trusting of him than I am.” I turned away, no longer able to look at her beautiful face.
Luca Moreau had been a fixer for The League. He’d betrayed his uncle, France’s leader, and he’d especially fecked over his best friend, Sebastian. Luca had faked Sebastian’s sister’s death and locked Alessia away in his League-controlled prison in Russia.
But Alessia was free now and married to Cole. And my sister, Holly, was a mother and happily married to Sebastian. And as for my brother, Adam, he was married with a son, and I’d never seen my twin so happy.
We’d managed to keep our younger brother, Ethan, out of League business by placing him in our company’s New York office, but I was worried if we didn’t wrap up everything soon, the claws of evil would reach for him, too. And it had a vicious bite. I didn’t want his eyes open. Nor Cole’s sister, Bree, an actress in the States, either.
Somehow, everyone around me managed to be happy even though we were facing the belly of hell regularly, all the while trying to keep our business up and running. Well, everyone except me.
No, I can’t be happy because the only woman I want is off-feckin’-limits.
“How long are you staying in Dublin this time?” I firmly tamped down my frustrations and realized purchasing expensive toys and fighting, things I’d thought alleviated my tension, wasn’t working.
“Holly and Sebastian invited me to spend Christmas here since I don’t have any family.”
We’re your family. And wow, was Christmas around the corner? I was losing track of the days. “Holly didn’t tell me.” How on earth would I survive the holidays with Emilia without fantasizing about shedding her clothes and dragging my tongue along her body? “Feck.”
“What?”
Had I cursed aloud? I willed my thoughts to swirl around the drain and vanish. I needed a clear head for the next few weeks if she’d be staying in town. “You plan on working while you’re here? Or should I say, continue working?” I jerked a thumb toward the guy out of earshot from us tied to his bike. “I assume they’re not Alliance or you wouldn’t be so openly going after them.”
Dismantling The Alliance was complicated. Slowly moving the pieces into place without Alliance leaders knowing we were responsible. Positioning people or
teams we trusted in Alliance stronghold positions worldwide for when we were ready to advance on the leaders. Take them down simultaneously in one fell swoop before they had a chance to react.
Emilia began to turn away without answering me, and I captured her wrist on instinct. “What is it you haven’t told me? Or all of us? You have secrets, and I get the feeling at least one of those secrets might get someone killed.” It wasn’t just about me wanting to know all of her secrets. I had my family to protect.
Her gaze cut down to where I held her wrist. Was she contemplating dropping me to the ground right there? She could. But I wasn’t the same man she’d kissed last year, and that was thanks to her and The League. I could easily flip her over and pin her beneath me, too. I was sort of hoping for that to happen.
“We all have secrets,” she countered in a soft, almost seductive voice.
I only had one secret. And it wasn’t dangerous.
I remembered her from Las Vegas ten years ago. I remembered our kiss just as vividly as though it were yesterday. But I never told her for reasons I have yet to understand. And since she never brought it up, I had to assume she didn’t remember me.
Years later, when I saw her in Dublin for the first time since Vegas, I’d been gobsmacked. My sister thought I’d had the wind knocked out of me because of attraction. But no, how could I ever forget “Julia”? How could I forget a woman like Emilia?
Over the years, I’d searched for someone to make me feel even a fraction of what “Julia” had made me feel that night. I was a prince trying to find his Cinderella.
I’d tried and failed, and as a result, had developed a reputation as a playboy. I’d slipped my cock into vaginas the way the prince had slipped the glass slipper on women’s feet in that damn fairy tale. None were a match.
And wow, was I a feckin’ arsehole before joining The League? Even my analogy made me want to go back in time and slap the shite out of myself.
I had hoped fate had brought “Julia” back into my life for a reason.
And the first League rule closed the door in my face.
Slammed it the feck shut.
Chapter Two
Emilia
“This should be your job. I mean it. Just make babies.” I handed Holly’s daughter back to her, not all that comfortable holding a child, especially one so small. Her daughter had Holly’s green eyes and a head of dark hair the same as her parents.
Siobhan Colleen Ryan. The Irish name Siobhan, pronounced “Shih-von,” meant “God is gracious,” and it was rather fitting for their daughter.
Sebastian still went by his fake last name, Renaud, for business purposes, but Holly had taken on his family’s surname, Ryan, once they were married. And Holly had insisted they use Colleen as their daughter’s middle name in honor of Sebastian’s late mother.
Thinking about Siobhan had me remembering Papà’s words before he died.
“Emilia Tessa Calibrisi. My only child,” he’d whispered before dying, clutching my hand between his palms. “Our name and legacy cannot die with me. You must carry it on. Do not die alone like me.” His eyes had closed, breath stuttering. “But I beg of you, marry an Italian. Do not fall in love with anyone else. Promise me.”
I’d considered reminding him of his arranged marriage to my Italian mother, who left not long after I was born to escape the life she’d never wanted. But I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Would it have caused him pain to mention it? Doubtful, since he hadn’t loved her, but I didn’t dare take the chance.
The pain that had seeped through his voice while he delivered his dying words to me wasn’t because of my mother, and I was sure of it. His reasoning behind wanting me to marry an Italian had nothing to do with the woman who’d walked away from us and everything to do with the woman he’d loved and couldn’t have.
Tears had filled my eyes, knowing I was losing the man who’d shaped me in every possible way—the good and the bad. And I loved him so much. My love outweighed any resentment I’d once had for him while growing up, knowing I would be forced to join his world. But everything changed when I turned twenty-one. I’d finally embraced my path and understood who I needed to become.
“Please, my red rose,” he’d whispered to me in Italian and then in English. “Promise me you will find a good Italian man. One who is not afraid of your strength, but who is also strong enough to be your equal.”
I’d quickly brushed away the tears with my free hand, knowing he wouldn’t want to see me weep for him. “I promise, Papà.”
“The Calibrisi legacy will live on through you, then,” he’d answered around a cough.
“I can’t believe she’s already one.” Holly’s words brought me back to Dublin.
Siobhan was born in November of last year, and the plan had originally been to dismantle The Alliance before then so Sebastian wouldn’t have to worry about endangering his child. But the task proved too great to handle so quickly, and an unexpected curveball delayed the plan further.
Three months before her birth, a plane crash over the Alps killed Milos Castellanos and his son-in-law, Simon Laurent. They’d been the leaders of the Greek and French families for The Alliance. Their deaths meant that at twenty-seven years old, Atlas Castellanos-Laurent was in a unique position to lead two of the most powerful families in the criminal organization since his mother, Penelope, wasn’t allowed to lead, not that she’d wanted to. The Alliance now viewed Atlas as an overlord of sorts of the entire organization.
How would I explain to Sean, to the others, why I’d been procrastinating going after our primary target, Atlas Castellanos-Laurent? Sebastian knew, but he’d respect my privacy. He’d let me explain the truth when I was ready.
Bad guys were bad guys. Usually. But this bad guy was Chanel’s brother. And I couldn’t wash the stain of her blood from my hands no matter how much I scrubbed and scrubbed.
Having Chanel with me the night of my twenty-first birthday got my only real friend outside The League killed.
I killed her by disobeying Papà’s orders. By selfishly allowing her to be in my life.
And after that, what choice did I have but to take my place in The League and find those responsible for what happened that night? I’d vowed the first life I’d take would be that of the person sent to murder me but accidentally killed Chanel instead.
I’d never even met Atlas, but . . . how could I kill the brother of the closest friend I’d ever had? And what if Penelope Castellanos-Laurent was caught in the crossfires? I’d never be able to live with myself if anything happened to her either.
“Hey, you okay? You seem pale, and you don’t, um, get pale.” Holly set Siobhan in the playpen in her living room and offered me a glass of whiskey.
Anything but red wine. I didn’t want to stare into the glass and see the color of blood. I was there to visit Holly and her daughter, to savor that small semblance of normality they made me feel when I was around them.
Holly was bold and confident like Chanel, but there were other sides to her I admired. She wasn’t one-dimensional. She was a reminder that a woman could be soft without being weak. Strong without being intimidating.
I couldn’t help but admire her. Often, from afar. I was intrigued by the woman who had turned a fierce man like Sebastian into a husband and a father.
I swished the drink around and sipped it. “You and your love for Proper Twelve.”
A smile played on her lips. “Sebastian and I have some fond memories associated with this drink.”
“And where is the man of the hour?” I went to the window and looked out at her front yard, where a heavy downpour had flattened the grass.
“He’s at the club with Alessia.”
“It’s Wednesday. Aren’t they closed today?” I turned to face her.
“Yeah, but that’s when they get most of their business stuff done.” Holly sat on the couch and stretched her long, jean-clad legs out in front of her.
Sebastian and his sister ran a trendy nightclub in the
heart of Dublin. When Alessia “came back from the dead,” I’d ridiculously hoped that maybe, just maybe, Chanel might be granted the same luck. But no, I’d seen her motionless body ten years ago. She’d been beneath the guy she’d met at the club that night. Both shot and killed.
“You’re pale again.” Holly’s brows tightened, concern cutting across her face. “What’s going on?”
“Oh, I was just remembering something.” I faked a smile and strode around the playpen to sit in the chair by the couch.
Siobhan was looking at a book on her lap as if she were actually reading it. Babies couldn’t do that yet, right? Shit. I had no clue about anything, but yeah, they couldn’t read at one. And was she still a baby, or was she considered a toddler? Hell if I knew the first thing about kids.
“I assume you’re staying at our hotel in the city. How long will you be in town? I’d love to see you stay through the new year. Celebrate your birthday in Dublin.”
I hadn’t celebrated a birthday since Chanel died. Not a single one.
“Maybe we girls can even get away for a spa weekend,” she went on when I didn’t answer. “I haven’t taken a vacation since Siobhan was born. And I know Anna is the same. Adam watches her like a hawk, especially—”
“After she was kidnapped on their wedding day?” I interrupted, and she frowned at the reminder. Maybe that’s not what she’d planned on saying, but I’d gone straight for the typical gloom and doom. “A night or two away might be nice,” I tried to recover. “I’ll be here for a few weeks or more. I’d planned on coming after Christmas, but your invite sped up my timeline. Business to handle and all.”
“Right. The Alliance.” Her long lashes fluttered as her eyes fixated on her glass of whiskey. Her thoughts probably drifting to the imminent battle that she knew would transpire at some point.
I couldn’t hold off going against Atlas forever, could I?
The Final Hour (Dublin Nights Book 5) Page 4