“Fuck off,” we both say.
I stagger to my feet and wipe blood from my nose as I stare at Ronan.
My stomach turns looking at him. Not from the blood, from the emptiness behind his eyes. Even now, beaten and bleeding, there’s nothing there. No remorse. No guilt. Just cold calculation. I can see him already planning his next move.
It makes me sick to my stomach.
“Why didn’t you come to the hospital?” I say, leaning over, still struggling for breath.
He spits blood onto the mat. “Gavin’s fine.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
“I had things to handle.”
“What things?”
His jaw tightens. “I don’t owe you an explanation.”
“The hell you don’t. Our brother was in a hospital bed with his head cracked open. You owe all of us an explanation.”
“Gavin wouldn’t have cared.”
Bullshit. I saw the look on Gavin’s face when we were all together in that hospital room and he realized Ronan wasn’t coming. The way Cillian said he tried to play it off like it didn’t matter. It fucking mattered.
“You’ve had a pole up your ass even more than usual since the wedding. What’s your problem?”
Something flickers across his face, but it’s gone before I can read it.
“You want to know my problem?” His voice chills my bones. “Watching you waste the opportunity of a lifetime. You’re married to the DiMicheli heir and you’re dicking around and playing house instead of positioning us to take control.”
“Take control? She’s my wife. This arrangement wasn’t a hostile takeover.”
“She’s a liability. Her company’s struggling. The capos barely respect her. Russians are edging closer. And instead of stepping up, you’re following her around like a fucking teenage kid who just got laid for the first time.”
Jesus Christ. That’s what this is about. He looks at Adriana and sees a business opportunity. A stepping stone. Another fucking power play.
It makes my skin crawl.
“You don’t know anything about her,” I say through clenched teeth.
“I know enough. When this arrangement goes up in smoke… and it will… we need to be ready to absorb everything. Territory, businesses, connections. That’s the smart play. That’s what you can’t see because you’re thinking with your dick.”
“You know Francesco woke up, right?” I ask.
Ronan blinks, and it’s the first genuine reaction I’ve seen from him.
“What?”
“Yeah. Day before yesterday. He’s awake and responsive. The doctors say he’s going to recover.” I watch his expression harden. “So much for absorbing everything. The DiMichelis aren’t going anywhere.”
His eyes spit flames. “That doesn’t change?—”
“It changes everything. Your whole takeover fantasy? Dead. Francesco’s going to get better. He’s going to take back control of his family. And Adriana—” I stop before the words can hit air.
Because I haven’t let myself think about this part.
What happens when Francesco recovers? The marriage contract was about protecting the DiMicheli empire while he was incapacitated. If he’s back, if he’s running things again...
