“Because you already know my answer,” I responded once we were out in the hall and heading for the lift. “And since when do you seek permission, anyway?” I stabbed a bit too angrily at the call button outside the lift.
“Respect, mon frère. Your kingdom.” He was a bit more flippant than normal, but I ignored it. Too much on my mind. Hell, like the smell of the lift.
Jesus. It even carried Holly’s scent—flowers and vanilla. I snatched my mobile from my pocket as the doors closed. We needed to finish our conversation about Limerick. I couldn’t have her running off to London and getting herself into trouble.
“Messaging her already?” He smirked.
I shot Luca a scolding look before reading over the text I’d just sent.
Me: I’ll leave the company after the board votes in favor of the Limerick sale. I won’t wait until next year.
I knew that wouldn’t be enough for her, but it was a start.
Holly: You can leave after they vote against the sale of the land. Or before. Either way, I accept those terms of the deal.
I pocketed my mobile, parted ways with Luca, and ten minutes later, my driver pulled up in front of Les Fleurs. The meeting tonight with a group of investors had been scheduled weeks ago, and I wasn’t one to bail at the last minute. But how could I sit through a business dinner when Holly might already be packing her bags for London? The answer was easy, I couldn’t.
My eyes locked on to the purple cursive script of the sign above the door of the restaurant, which had a hand-painted bouquet of wildflowers next to it.
Alessia. My chest tightened at the memory of the last time we were together here and parked in this very spot.
“Change of plans,” I told my driver. “There’s somewhere else I need to be.”
Chapter Twelve
Dublin, Ireland - Four Years Ago
Sebastian
“Nice place you have here.” Donovan Hannigan sawed his steak in half, the blood oozing from the center in the process.
He was the type of crime boss who probably laughed while his lackeys broke legs and cut off fingers. A fecking arsehole who believed himself untouchable.
Chop shops. Dealing drugs. Blackmailing small businesses. Illegal fight clubs. The list of his offenses went on and on, and I hated that I had to let him continue living and breathing. Even if I had accepted the leadership role of Ireland, because of the deal we made with The Alliance, I couldn’t take him out. That didn’t stop me from envisioning ways to kill him as we sat here.
I shifted back in my seat, leaving my dinner untouched as we sat at a table in Les Fleurs. Seeing this piece of scum inside the elegant restaurant my sister decorated didn’t sit well with me. But this conversation had to happen on my turf, not his. And taking him to the club with Alessia there tonight was out of the question.
“The fight club you run on Church Street, I need you to relocate it.”
His menacing dark gaze crawled up to my face. “You’re kidding, right?”
“Do I look like a man who’d make a joke?” I angled my head ever so slightly, and my lips drew tight.
“What does it matter where my club is?”
“Because I said so,” I rasped. “You know who I work for.” Who I still worked for.
He shoved a huge bite of steak in his mouth, his eyes never leaving mine. “And you know whose protection I’m under, so I’m not sure why we’re even having this conversation,” he said after he’d taken his damn time chewing. “One call to my brother-in-law, and you’re done.”
“You may have Alliance protection, but—”
“And your League’s pact with The Alliance means you can’t touch me.” He winked. The fucker actually winked at me.
“A new flat complex is under construction next to your fight club, and the property owner has concerns the proximity to the club will drive down prices.”
“Too bloody bad.” He tossed his linen napkin on his plate. “I won’t do any such thing.”
“Just because I’m not allowed to kill you, doesn’t mean I can’t make your life a living hell,” I seethed.
Moreau had been right, we needed a stronger League presence in Dublin. Even though I wasn’t in charge, I’d still do my damn best to save the city from completely falling to the likes of this arse.
“You have forty-eight hours to relocate your fight club, or you won’t have one at all. Am I clear?”
“I don’t take kindly to threats. The Alliance will have your head.”
“This isn’t a threat. It’s a promise.” If someone like Donovan was negatively impacting League business, I had every right to handle it (without killing him, of course), as laid out in the deal.
He pointed two fingers at his eyes then my way. “You want to fight me, don’t ya? I can see it on your face. Why don’t we step outside and handle this like men?” He was still fairly jacked for someone in his late fifties. A heavyweight boxer in his younger days who’d turned to illegal ways to make money when he stopped winning fights. “I think you’re a scrapper beneath that suit. You could use a good fight.”
He ran a hand over his slicked-back black hair and lifted his chin, his gaze sharp on something, or someone, behind me.
I glanced back to see Alessia on approach. What in God’s name was she doing there?
“Oh, I bet that one likes it rough in bed.”
“Say a fecking thing to her, and I’ll pick up that steak knife and slice your tongue off, are we clear?”
“And break the precious rules?” He grinned. “Nah, you won’t do it. But thanks for letting me know she’s someone you care about.”
Motherfucker.
“Go near her, and you die. Slowly and very painfully,” I said in a low voice before rising to face my sister. To hell with the pact.
“Sebastian.” She kissed both my cheeks. She’d adopted more and more European customs since she’d been away from the U.S.
Her gaze darted to Donovan before journeying back to me, concern crossing her face. She knew him, didn’t she?
“What are you doing here?” I asked her. “I thought you were at the club.”
“I was trying to get ahold of you, and you weren’t answering your phone. I called around. Your people said you were here.”
“How’d you get here?”
“My driver. Like always.”
“Wait in the car. I’ll be right outside.”
“But—”
“Now,” I ordered, not wanting her anywhere near this arsehole. I didn’t want her to even breathe his toxic air.
She glimpsed Donovan again, concern etched in the lines of her forehead, then whirled around, clearly upset I’d dismissed her, and she hurried out of the dining room for the exit.
“Forty-eight hours.” I leveled the smarmy bastard with a look that promised retribution should he ignore my warnings, then I left the table and got into Alessia’s limo.
The partition between the driver and back was already up, affording us privacy. “How do you know Donovan Hannigan?”
She lifted one shoulder. “Word is he’s responsible for like half the crime in the city. And if you were meeting with him . . .” She let go of her words as her voice broke. “Tell me this isn’t what you used to do, who you used to work for. He’s not in that mysterious group you were once part of, right?”
“No. It’s people like him who ruin cities, not me.”
“I don’t understand.”
And how could she? I’d kept her sheltered and protected from my world the best I could. And maybe if I’d been honest about who I was to begin with, she’d understand that—understand the dangers most people remained ignorant of . . .
I scratched at the back of my neck. I didn’t know what to say or how to explain. “Let’s get you back to the club. Or home.”
“No.” She shook her head. “I want answers. Tell me to my face—are you still working for them?”
Them. How could I ever define “them” to someone who grew up in a world where mo
ney literally rained down upon her like a gift from God? It’d never matter how much cash I had in my bank account, I didn’t come from money, so I’d always know the extent of what people would do for it.
Theft. Bribery. Murder.
“I never left,” I finally answered.
She slid farther away from me, her back hitting the other side of the limo. Of course, she’d fear me. Hate me. Maybe she was right to.
“How could you lie to me?” she whispered. “You don’t need the money. It makes no sense.”
“I can’t walk away. It’s not so easy.”
“Then explain it to me. Tell me why you can’t leave. Why you want to keep hurting people?”
“I’m not . . .” I sucked in a sharp breath and let it go. “I haven’t killed anyone since you came into my life.” And that was the truth. I hadn’t left The League, but I’d kept my commitment not to kill.
And were we really going to have this conversation in the back of the limo tonight? And could I ever tell her the truth about The League without further endangering her? The more she knew, the larger the target on her head.
“How can I trust anything you say?” Liquid coated her eyes. “Is this the real reason you’ve been keeping your distance from me lately? Were you worried I’d find out you never left?”
“No, it’s always been about keeping you safe.”
She swiped the backs of her hands across her cheeks, wiping away the tears. “I-I can’t do this. I can’t handle secrets and lies. You’re either with them or you’re with me. I gave up someone I cared about to be here and—”
“Maybe you shouldn’t have,” I snapped and regretted it immediately.
She was talking about Cole McGregor, and I was an arse for stealing her from her old life. But I wasn’t sure if I could give her up. She’d managed to open my heart, to show me it was capable of functioning, and the pain of her loss would destroy me. I hadn’t been able to say I love you yet, but in time, I might get the words out—words I hadn’t spoken since Ma died. “I don’t want to lose you.”
“Then don’t,” she murmured.
My shoulders slumped. “It’s not that simple.”
“And I think it is.” She scooted closer and reached for my hand, her gesture causing my throat to thicken with regret at how everything had gone arseways.
I could send her away for a while. Not to New York but somewhere safe while I got things straightened out, then maybe I could officially trade in my old life for a new one.
The maybe felt like a gigantic boulder obstructing my airway.
Feck maybe, I decided when peering at my sister. “If anything happens to you because I leave—”
“It won’t,” she said with a sniffle. “Because I’ve got you to keep me safe.”
Chapter Thirteen
Present Day
Sebastian
The rain hammered the streets as the driver rounded the final bend leading to Holly’s new home, a place I’d never been to and sure as hell shouldn’t be going to now. But her safety trumped my comfort. Being in her home would be hell, though.
The place wasn’t what I expected. Small for someone of her wealth. A white two-story with stucco exterior. A copse of trees enveloped the home on the property and gave it a cottage-like feel. No other houses in sight.
It was like her oasis. Wildflowers. A fairy tree at the center of the land. A pond without a fountain. Simple and calming. Maybe it was similar to the land in Limerick she was desperate to keep.
The idea of her alone out here made me a bit crazy.
“I’ll get you the umbrella,” my driver, Nick—who’d been Irish Special Forces before joining me—offered.
“No need.” I gripped the door handle. “I’m not sure how long I’ll be.”
“No rush, Mr. Renaud. I’ll wait right here.”
I walked with slow steps to the front door, despite getting blasted by wind and rain. I was fecking nervous. A strange and unfamiliar feeling.
Standing in front of her red door, I lifted my hand to knock, but she swung it open before I had a chance.
Security cams. Good. I wouldn’t need to lecture her about the danger of living alone out in the middle of nowhere.
“What are you doing here?” Her eyes were wide, her lips parted.
It took me a moment to remember because I was too hung up on her casual look. It was one I’d never seen before.
Her face was clean of makeup. So fresh and beautiful. Her hair in a messy bun at the top of her head, a few strands wild. Light denim jeans, bare feet, and a loose-fitting cream-colored jumper that hung off one shoulder. No bra strap in sight.
“Can I come in?”
She blinked a few times and hesitated before stepping back. She was obviously reluctant to let me in. Were it not for the pouring rain, I’m not sure she would have.
But I’d stand there forever just to look at her.
I removed my coat and swiped both hands over my hair, which was now soaked. The coat had kept the rest of me dry.
“Shoes off,” she ordered. “I don’t wear them inside.”
I toed off my sneakers and left them beside the door.
“You know you could hire someone to help you do that?” I said at the sight of boxes stacked in the living area.
There was a TV, which judging by the strewn wires, had yet to be set up. A dark brown leather couch at the center of the room off to my right in front of the TV stand. One matching armchair and a coffee table.
She went to the boxes on the table and lifted a knife.
“Gonna cut me?”
She rolled her eyes and slid the blade along the seam of the box, allowing the tape to part. “I’m not the dangerous one, remember?” Her gaze flicked my way when she discarded the knife next to the box.
Her eyes moved to my abdomen, and I could see the question in her gaze—the curiosity about the marks she’d seen on my body earlier.
I’d been stabbed. Shot. Burned.
The injuries came with the line of work and certainly weren’t typical of a billionaire businessman.
Not exactly explainable unless I offered a lie about being Special Forces like my driver, Nick. And lying about being military didn’t sit well with me.
“Why are you here?” She lifted something from the box and unwrapped it. A picture frame. I wanted to steal a closer look, to get to know more about her, but I refrained.
“You know why.”
“The deal? I’m not up for renegotiating my terms,” she said with a stubborn lift of her chin.
“I never agreed to your terms.”
She unwrapped another picture frame, then reached for a glass of red wine beside the box she was unpacking.
The movement of her throat as she swallowed had my mind going to a no-fly zone: her mouth wrapped around my cock with her hand beneath those lush lips moving up and down.
“Look who’s the one getting red in the face now.” She crossed her arms, still holding the wine glass. “What’s on your mind?”
“I don’t get red.”
“Right. You’re too tan.” She brought the glass back to her mouth, the rim hovering near her lower lip. “Where do you get color like that this time of year?”
I still owned the Hatteras Flybridge I’d had the day Alessia came into my life, and I took it out every chance I got.
“What if we both can get what we want?” I asked, abruptly changing the subject.
I’d had an idea on the drive over. I wasn’t sure if it would work, but I’d give it a try. For her. Anything. Well, anything as long as it didn’t compromise her safety.
She set the glass down. “I’m listening.”
“Well.” I sidestepped a stack of boxes to get closer to her. “The buyer is looking for land in Limerick. You happen to own the largest plot of undeveloped land. But what if we can find the same amount of acreage he’s looking for somewhere else in Limerick.”
“You just said—”
“We get more people to sell in t
he same area and combine that territory,” I explained. “Then we sell that to Paulson Incorporated.”
“I’m sure the investor tried that, and clearly, no one sold to him,” she countered.
I doubted that, but I replied, “Because I wasn’t involved.”
“What makes you think they’ll sell to you?”
“I can be persuasive.”
She brushed loose strands of her silky hair away from her face, probably buying time as she contemplated my proposal. “It may work, but I should be the one to go to Limerick. The McGregors have a solid reputation there. The people will trust me. And you shouldn’t be involved.”
I shook my head. “I already am involved,” I reminded her. “And the property owners won’t make a deal with you.”
“Because I’m a woman?”
“No, because you’re not me.” I strode closer to her against my better judgment. “I can offer them something you can’t.”
Her hand brushed down the column of her throat. Her skin was so soft. Delicate. “And what is that?”
“I’d owe them a favor.”
“And why would a favor from you matter to them?”
“A debt owed from someone like me would give them power they can’t get anywhere else.”
“They’re mostly farmers, I don’t think—”
“Please trust me,” I interrupted. “And know this might be the only way you can keep the land you so desperately want while also making this investor happy.”
“And you need him happy, do you?” Her tone softened. “You also owe this man a favor?”
“Yes,” I admitted.
“And you’d be willing to owe more favors to help me?”
I brought my palm to her cheek without thinking. She immediately leaned into my touch and closed her eyes. I don’t think she meant to do it, but God, did I like it. We fit together. Crazy as it was.
“For you, I would.”
“Why?” The word came out like a whispered breath of air, and it struck me in the heart, reminding me we were too close. I was physically and emotionally too close to her.
“Yes or no?” I asked instead. “Do we have a deal? I can’t promise you it’ll work, but it’s the best chance at keeping the land.”
The Real Deal: A Dublin Nights Novel Page 11