“Hey!” I step toward him, temper flaring up suddenly. “You forget who struck this deal in the first place? I didn’t ask for any of this. I didn’t ask for you to ally yourself with him and tether our family to his through marriage. That was all you,Dad.”
He steps closer, the space between us shrinking ’til we’re almost nose to nose. His men and mine watch on in tense, uncertain silence.
“The only reason I made that deal,” he says in a low, venomous tone, “was because we had few options left. Since therealheir, Lochlan, is gone. And I’ve been left with…you.”
The contempt in his voice when he says you is unmistakable. He spits the word out like it tastes bad on his tongue.
He doesn’t like that he’s been left with the spare son running the family’s main operation instead of the golden child Lochlan, who he obviously prefers.
…who he’salwayspreferred.
But I don’t give a fuck if that’s the case. That’s what he doesn’t get.
I release a dark laugh, shaking my head. “I’m sorry to disappoint. Where’re my manners? I should’ve been born a clone of Lochlan. Then maybe you’d finally be satisfied.”
“That’s your problem,” he snaps. “You’re too busy being a smartass instead of thinking strategically and making the right moves. You think I haven’t heard about your stunt in Morris Park?”
“And?”
“Do you believe that was a smart move?”
“It was sending a message. That we won’t tolerate the Albanians’ disrespect.”
“Disrespect against who?” he challenges. “Our family? Or do you mean your wife?”
I hold his gaze. “My wifeisour family.”
His lip curls into a sneer as he bares his teeth. “Simone’ll always be a Langston at heart. She can’t be trusted. So instead of murdering men for her and doting on her at holiday dinner, why don’t you prioritize the wellbeing of the fucking family first?”
He pauses long enough to let his words land. For me to take them in as I glare into his cold, sneering face.
“Allow me let you in on a secret, Ronan,” he says almost in a whisper. “She’s disposable. A pawn. A toy. A means to an end. Who knows? She may not even be around for long.”
My expression darkens as I glare at him and clench both fists at my sides.
He beckons to his security guards. Together they start toward the open garage door. As he walks off, he speaks from over his shoulder.
“Fix this situation. Immediately. Get Malcolm and LDS in line with these shipments and what our family’s getting out of this deal. Or I will.”
Then he’s gone, the Rolls-Royce pulling away with a low purr.
I stand where I am, staring at the empty doorway, aggravated by the impossible situation I’ve been put in.
These days, when I finally make it home, I’m exhausted from filling my brother’s shoes.
It’s harder than anybody thinks. I’m essentially still playing my old role as a warlord in the family—overseeing the buttonmen and bonemen and other fixers under our payroll—but also now acting as Clan Chief like Lochlan was.
Managing territories, negotiating deals, keeping our operations running as smooth as ever. It’s a lot to fucking handle. So much so the stress is starting to get under my skin.
Probably why I’ve decided to do what I’m going to do tonight.
No matter what the fuck my father says. Maybe intentionally in defiance of him.
Take Simone out for a night on the town. It’s time we give it a try.
We’ve been married for a month and have never spent time alone outside our bedroom.
Getting to know the woman I’m married to seems like common sense. Even if our marriage is forced and arranged.