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“You won’t speak that way about my wife.” Luca glares at me. “She’s pregnant—”
“I don’t care if she’s giving birth as we speak. She willnotbe harboring Liam and Anastasia so they can collude. Manhattan is off limits as well.”
“How many cities are you planning to ban the boy from, and how do you intend to enforce it?” Viktor cuts in, and then shrugs at my glaring expression. “I’m not saying I’m against it. I’m just curious how far you plan to go with this.”
“I intend for myalliesto help enforce it,” I growl. “Manhattan is part of the Northeast territory that you are allied with me in. Liam and Ana will need to go elsewhere. And I expect you particularly, since you are most on my side in this—” I look at Viktor as I speak, “—to help me ensure that Liam and his wife do not go running to the bosom of those who aremeantto be helping me and undermine me from there.”
I turn sharply back to Luca. “I need to be able to trust you, if we are to be allies,” I tell him evenly. “I need to be assured of your loyalty. Can I be, or will your wife’s split loyalty affect yours as well? Can you control her, and convince me that she will put you and your interests over her own, as a good mafia wife should?”
“You should be careful how you speak about Sofia,” Luca grinds out. “But yes. My wife knows her duty. She won’t put our alliance in danger over her friendship with Anastasia. And my loyalty is to this alliance we’ve built. It’s better this way—all of us working together—than when the streets ran red with our mingled blood. My predecessor did not see it that way, but I do. I will sacrifice a little marital peace to keep our agreement.”
“Good.” I nod curtly. “That’s what I’d hoped to hear from you.” I glance around the room. “I want this to be accomplished with as little violence as possible. If violence becomes necessary, then violence will be done. It’s not my wish, however, that my leadership start with bloodshed.”
A few of my men look a bit disgruntled at that, and Viktor raises an eyebrow, but he says nothing. Next to him, Levin Volkov is a statue, his chiseled face set in hard lines as he listens and says nothing. Luca looks pleased at that, and he turns to say something to Alessio, who nods.
“What’s that?” I frown at him. “Is there something I should know?”
“No,” Luca says smoothly. “I was only assuring Alessio that this should not be a repeat of how things are in Chicago at the moment. He has concerns.”
“Then he can speak up with his own mouth.” I narrow my eyes. “There are problems in Chicago?”
“Nothing for you to concern yourself with. Infighting in the mafia families there. It will be dealt with.”
“Very well.” I look around the gathered men, feeling a small amount of satisfaction.As long as they continue to accept my way of leading, we should be fine.
I have every intention of keeping a close eye on Luca Romano and his family, though.
3
SAOIRSE
The only reason I think I’m going to be able to make it through my wedding dress appointment with my sanity intact is the fact that Maggie is there.
She meets my mother and I for coffee before we go to the salon at our favorite place, with a vanilla iced latte ready for me and mochas for her and my mother, a smile on her pretty, petite face. She’s dressed as casually as she always does when she’s not at work—ripped boyfriend cut jeans that look loose and stylish on her small frame, a boxy white t-shirt, and her chin-length red curls left to riot around her makeup-less, freckled face.
She’s the opposite of me in every way, sporty, tomboyish and even more smart-mouthed than I can be, and I love her for it.
My mother, on the other hand, detests her no matter how many cheerful efforts Maggie makes to befriend her.
“I have all the plans for the wedding right here,” my mother says as we sit down at a glossy round table by the window, opening a planner stuffed full of sticky notes and magazine clippings. I’ve been engaged for all of a week, and my mother already has the entire thing planned out toherliking, including the dress I should wear.
Maggie takes one look at the puffy, Cinderella, 80’s style gowns my mother has pulled photos of, and wrinkles her nose. She knows my style, and itabsolutelyis not that.
“Don’t eat that, Saoirse,” my mother says sharply as I reach for a piece of the coffee cake Maggie ordered. “You have a wedding dress to diet for. I hope Maggie ordered that latte sugar-free.”
“Of course, Mrs. O’Sullivan,” Maggie says with a smile.Absolutely not,she mouths to me when my mother turns back to her notebook, grinning at me from behind her hand.
I take a sip of my decidedly sugary latte, feeling just a tiny bit more relaxed. Maggie always has that effect on me, and I’m glad she’s here. One of my other friends from college, Angelica, will be at the appointment too, but I don’t think I could have made it through without Maggie. She has a calming effect on me that no one else seems to be able to manage.
“What are the colors going to be, Mrs. O’Sullivan?” Maggie asks, feigning an interest in the planner as she leans forward so that I can grab a piece of the cake. My stomach is rumbling, and the last thing I want is to be hungry at an appointment that’s already going to test my patience, thanks to my mother.
“Emerald green, of course, and white, with touches of gold I think—”
Maggie manages to engage my mother in more wedding chatter long enough for me to have a few minutes to collect my thoughts, before it’s time to head to the salon. My mother is making an entire to-do out of it, including champagne in the car as we’re driven to the appointment, but I only take a sip or two out of my glass as I look out of the window at the passing Boston scenery. I’m glad to be home, at least, even if the next weeks will likely prove to be the least calm of my entire life.
It’s going to be fine,I tell myself.We’ll get past the wedding, everything will be settled between Connor and I, and then once he takes back his leadership of the Kings, life will return to normal. Better than normal, even.
Angelica is waiting for us on the pink velvet couches inside the salon when we walk in, but to my dismay, so are Sofia and Caterina. I blanch slightly, glancing at Maggie, who shrugs.
