“Did you expect him not to be?” Fionn waved his fork at Sloan. “The guy got kidnapped and tortured by Toscani. He’s got the scars to prove it too.”
“I know.” Sloan stabbed another olive and pulled it off his fork before throwing it into his mouth. Fionn and he always did this when they wanted to have a quiet, meaningful conversation. It had started when his nephew was ten and couldn’t sleep. They’d talk for hours, with Sloan telling Fionn stories about a father he couldn’t remember. Sloan had plenty of stories about Liam, especially ones of when they were teenagers and always found a way to cause trouble for their own father. “I think he blames me.”
Fionn cocked his head at Sloan. “Why do you think that? As much as I dislike Conall, he sucks your cock at business meetings, uncle. If the guy blamed you for his kidnapping, he wouldn’t be doing that, trust me. Especially when he protested as much as he did when you first claimed him.”
“He’s not talking to me. I can see there’s something he wants to say, but he’s either too afraid, or too stubborn, to say it. I thought by punishing him, it’d make him tell me. It hasn’t worked.” Sloan pinched the bridge of his nose. “Maybe I pushed him past his breaking point.”
“Bullshit.”
Sloan sent him a narrowed look.
Fionn bowed his head slightly. “Sorry, uncle, but that’s what it is. Bullshit. Conall had a knife in him. They shattered his ankle. All he had to do was give them information and it’d all stop, but he didn’t tell Toscani a thing. If you think a little spanking would meet his breaking point, then maybe you have to take a good look at yourself. Your pet’s a tough nut to crack.”
“That’s true.” Sloan threw another olive in his mouth and chewed on it. “Not even I can crack him, though.”
“You sure about that? Because I think you’ve already chipped away at that shell he’s built around himself. No one else could get Conall Morrissey to call them sir, that’s for sure.” Fionn shrugged. “I asked around about him when you first decided you wanted him.” Sloan shot Fionn a glare, but his nephew held up his hand. “I’ll always protect you, Sloan. You’re not only my uncle, but my boss too. It’s my right to find out more information about him.”
Sloan couldn’t fault him on that logic, he supposed. “Very well. Tell me what you think you know about him.”
“He doesn’t do emotions. He’s emotionally unavailable. The whore he slept with, Forrest, said he wanted more with Conall, but their relationship stayed physical because Conall refused to get involved in anything with emotions. Even his relationship with his brother seems detached on the surface, even if it’s obvious they care for each other. Your pet doesn’t talk about how he feels, uncle.” Fionn smiled at him. “Except, he responds to you. He doesn’tneedto tell you how he feels. You don’t ask him to pour out his soul. You just give him what he desires most without him having to ask.”
Sloan grinned and patted Fionn on the shoulder. “You’ll be a good boss one day, Fionn. You’re good with people, you can read them, it’s how I know you’ll take care of this company.”
Fionn ducked his head and laughed nervously. “Well, I had a good teacher. You don’t become the boss of the Killough Company unless you’re good at reading people. You taught me that. My suggestion? Don’t ask him to talk, Sloan.Makehim want to tell you what you need to know.”
Sloan shook his head. Fionn was good. “What’s the news on Diaz?”
Diaz was a detective who gave them hell a few months ago. She had a hard-on for Sloan and would do anything to take down his business. Luckily for Sloan, he had his hands in plenty of cookie jars, which meant he knew enough people to keep her off their tail. She was a hound dog, though. Sloan preferred to keep an eye on her.
“She’s licking her wounds. You know you pissed her off, right? She’s got no family that we can threaten her with. Her father was a cop who died on the job. Her mom was a maid for a rich family. Someone murdered her mom and suspicion fell on the family’s oldest son. He got away with it, though. Diaz’s after a rich man’s blood, Sloan.”
“We’ll handle her. She’s nothing more than an ant that can be stepped on,” Sloan said, eating another olive. “What about Conall’s Christmas present? Has it arrived?”
“Yes.” Fionn frowned at him. “I put it in the special room.”
“Good. It’s only just over a week until Christmas. It can stay there until then.”
“Should we feed it or give it water?” Fionn asked.
Sloan chuckled. “Enough water to keep it alive until then.”
Fionn shook his head. “If that’s what you want.”
The door to the kitchen creaked open and Conall padded in. He gazed around the kitchen, whistling in amazement. “This house has to be bigger than the one in the Hamptons.”
“It’s not,” Fionn said nonchalantly, glancing over Sloan’s shoulder. “It’s a vacation home.”
Conall snorted and put his hands in the pockets of his tight jeans. He also had a white button-up shirt on, and he looked relaxed. That’s what Sloan wanted to see. “It’s a nice vacation home. Sloan said something about a luxury yacht?”
Sloan laughed and stood, heading toward his pet. He kissed him on the brow and caressed his cheek. “We can’t go out on it today, pet, we have business. I can’t even have a proper vacation without someone needing to learn a lesson.”
That seemed to perk him up. “Am I coming with you?”
Sloan stroked his jaw, running his thumb over Conall’s bottom lip. He stared up at Sloan with those dark lightning-blue eyes that captivated Sloan from the beginning. “Do you want to?”
“Yes.” Conall nipped at his thumb. “Fuck yes.”
“Language.”
