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“Sir. Conall.”
Ronan saying his name startled Conall, and he blinked up at Ronan, who was way taller and more muscular. Sometimes he wished he was fucking tall. “Yes?” He smiled sweetly.
“It’s my job to protect you. If I make one more mistake, the boss will kill me. I will be coming with you, sir.”
Conall sighed. “Fine. Come on, then.” He stepped around Ronan and moved down the hallway and stairs, aware of Ronan right behind him; the sound of his steps were louder than Conall’s. They passed through the foyer and went down another hallway, to the right of the staircase, toward Sloan’s office. Two soldiers were on guard outside the office. They inclined their heads when Conall reached them and opened the door for him. He thanked them with a nod and stepped through into the office.
Sitting in a seat in front of Sloan’s desk was an older man with dark gray hair. He reminded Conall of a more refined version of George in a lot of ways, as he had the same kind, gentle smile that didn’t quite belong on someone who killed people for a living. But Sloan had told him enough about this man to know he did exactly that.
He had a couple of his own soldiers behind him, including a big man with shaved blond hair and a nasty scowl. The man stood, his gentle smile growing as he carefully stepped forward. “You must be Conall, Sloan’s pet.”
“I am, and you are Mr. Soletsky,” Conall greeted with a polite smile. He held out his hand, and Soletsky chuckled, taking it in his own to shake.
“I am. It is a pleasure to meet you. This is Roman, my right-hand man.” He gestured to the man behind him, who grunted in acknowledgement. “It is a damned shame that this is the first time we’ve met, Conall. I’ve heard so many wonderful things about you.” He said something else, but Conall couldn’t understand him.
One of Sloan’s soldiers, Cormac, stepped forward from where he’d been standing near the wall. He took to Conall’s side. “He said you are more beautiful than he imagined, and that is coming from a man who prefers women.” Conall raised his brows at Cormac, and the soldier continued, “Mr. Soletsky is Ukrainian.”
“And Cormac here is the only Ukrainian speaker in your company. Sloan has made sure I know that he’ll understand everything I say,” Soletsky said with a chuckle. “Sloan is smart like that. Always has someone in the room who speaks the mother tongue of the men he’s meeting with.”
Conall laughed. “Yes, our boss knows his business.”
“It’s why I’ve chosen to stick with him through thick and thin.” He shook his head. “They don’t make them like Sloan Killough anymore.”
The door opened and Sloan stepped in, tall and imposing like he always was when he attended business meetings, even with allies. The suit and tie he wore today were navy and they made his eyes pop even more than usual. When he shifted toward them, Conall spied dark blue suspenders underneath the suit jacket and they made him smile. He fucking loved the suspenders, so Sloan had started wearing them more often.
“Dobryy ranok, Fedir.” He held out his hand and Soletsky took it, bowing slightly at Sloan.
“Good morning, Sloan. Is that the only thing you know in Ukrainian, still?” Soletsky laughed.
“I also know how to say good afternoon and good evening, but that will be the most I’ll learn. I’m a busy man.” Sloan smirked and waved at the chair Soletsky had been sitting in when Conall had arrived. “Please take a seat so we can get to business.”
Soletsky laughed and hobbled over to the red plush chair before sitting down, Roman standing close behind him. Sloan took his own leather chair behind his desk and quirked his finger in Conall’s direction.
Conall strode over to his side, standing beside Sloan as the meeting began. As tempted as Conall was to goad Sloan with flirtatious touches and comments in an attempt to get him in the mood, now wasn’t the time. This was an important meeting between two allies. Soletsky had his own organization in Pennsylvania, and Sloan supplied him drugs while Soletsky helped Sloan get guns from former Eastern Bloc countries like Ukraine and Romania. They both needed each other, and in a lot of ways, Soletsky’s business was an outfit of the Killough Company.
“I hope that you can be satisfied with these negotiations, Fedir,” Sloan finished, leaning forward in his chair and resting his elbows on his desk.
Soletsky nodded with a fatherly smile. “I am. Very much so. It has been an honor working with you, Sloan.”
“Good, that’s what I like to hear.” Sloan stood and so did Soletsky, and they met around the left side of the desk in a handshake. “How’re the children?”
Soletsky snorted. “Zoryana is smart as ever. She’s in medical school studying to be a doctor, and I couldn’t be prouder. Kyta though?” He shook his head, shoulders drooping. “He’s still a child in many ways. Would rather party than take on responsibilities.”
Conall noticed Roman stiffen at the mention of Kyta’s name. His jaw tightened and he stepped in closer to Soletsky.
“If you have any advice, I’d appreciate it,” Soletsky said with a laugh. “You helped raise Fionn, yes? He’s a good boy.”
“We were lucky with Fionn. He knew his duties as a Killough,” Sloan said.
Soletsky sighed. “I wish I could say the same for Kyta. He likes pushing my limits.”
“Maybe he needs someone to spank him.” Conall smirked when they both turned to look at him. He shrugged. “Spanking can help. Pleasure and pain rolled into one.”
Sloan’s mouth twisted wickedly, his eyes turning heated. It was like catching a fish on a hook, and Conall was the fisherman pulling up a big catch. Now he’d gotten the nibble, and he was going to push it further.
“A hand on my bare arse is a lesson that I both want and need.” His voice slid lower, and even though the message was only for Sloan, the others listened, too. He tugged on his collar and chewed on his bottom lip seductively. “Whenever I push my limits, I’m begging for a smack on my arse from the boss.”
“Really?” Soletsky seemed intrigued and he stepped closer. “You needed that, yes?”
