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“Morning.” I sit down, setting the coffee that I’d picked up on the way down in front of me. “Can I offer either of you anything?”
“No, thank you,” Luca says in the same breath that Viktor says, tersely, “An explanation.”
Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.That’s three times in barely over two days that I’ve had an explanation demanded from me, and I’m quite frankly becoming exhausted with it.
“What do you mean?” I take a sip of my coffee, just as the door opens and Levin walks in, followed by Niall and another man I don’t recognize.
Niall stands behind me, as he’s accustomed to, while Levin takes a seat to the right of Viktor. The man I don’t know—tall, dark-haired, hazel-eyed, and clearly Italian, takes a seat to the right of Luca.
“This is my underboss, Alessio Moretti,” Luca says, nodding to him. “He’s come from Chicago to take the position. Alessio, this is Liam McGregor, head of the Irish Kings here in Boston.”
“A pleasure,” I say tightly, nodding to him. “Now—Luca, Viktor, what’s this about? It’s not that I’m not pleased to see you, but this meeting was called…abruptly.”
“We warned you, when you went to rescue Anastasia,” Viktor says, his voice equally terse, “that she was not well.”
“We both did,” Luca adds. “We told you that she was physically and mentally damaged. You went after her anyway—at some urging from my wife as well, I later heard—and we were happy enough to let you do it. Ana deserved to be rescued.”
Viktor frowns, and Luca gives him a pointed look. “You know as well as I do that she didn’t deserve that fate or anything that happened to her before it. You were as guilty as the rest of us that Alexandre took her before we could get there.”
“Be that as it may,” Viktor says tightly. “The intent was for you to rescue her, Liam, to get her out of the hands of the Frenchman. Not to keep her for yourself.”
“What did you think I was going to do?” I narrow my eyes at him. “You can’t tell me that you didn’t know I had feelings for her.”
“Feelings are one thing,” Luca says quickly, before Viktor can say something else to go along with the rapidly darkening expression on his face. “Acting on them is another, Liam. You signed a contract before you left for Russia. Abetrothalcontract with Saoirse O’Sullivan.”
“Aye.” I sit back, feeling the dread that I’d been keeping at bay these past weeks slowly crawl through my veins as a chill settles over the room. “A preventative measure, while I went after Ana, to keep civil war from breaking out in my absence. The Kings have not all put their full loyalty behind me since my father—”
“And you think breaking this contract will make them do so?” Viktor shakes his head. “Use your head,mal’chik!What do you think Graham O’Sullivan will do when you tell him you’re setting aside your promise to his daughter?”
“I don’t know for certain, but—”
“I know your customs well enough,” Viktor continues sharply. “The girl might remain untouched, but a broken engagement, particularly when her husband was meant to be the head of the Kings, will come down unfavorably—and unfairly, I might add—on her. Her father will be hard-pressed to make a decent match for her after this—have you thought of that?”
“I have, and I feel terrible about it, but—”
“But what?” Luca interjects. “Liam, no one is telling you that you can’t have Ana, if the two of you can come to some arrangement. If Saoirse is willing to be amenable to a more—traditional arrangement, and Ana is willing to continue a discreet relationship with you without the bonds of marriage, then there’s no reason why you can’t have both love and duty. But you can’tmarryAna, do you understand?”
“No,” I say tightly. “I don’t understand. I’ve already told Saoirse—”
“And does her father know?”
“No,” I admit reluctantly. “Not so far as I know, but—”
“Bladya, mal’chik!”Viktor swears aloud, his face tightening with frustration. I hear Levin say something quietly in Russian under his breath to Viktor, who lets out a long-suffering sigh.
“I thought better of you when we made this alliance,” Viktor says tightly. “Your father was a traitor to both the Kings and myself, and I would have been well within my rights to demand that the Kings replace the McGregor lineage with a new one. If Graham O’Sullivan had a son, I might well have. But he doesn’t, only daughters, and when he assured me that his place at the right hand of the table would continue, that his daughter had always been unofficially pledged to the McGregor heir, I let it lie. I see now that perhaps I’ve made a mistake—”
“This isn’t about you, Liam,” Luca says calmly. Ironically, I hear the echo of my own voice saying something very similar to Saoirse yesterday.This has nothing to do with you.
“I understand, wanting personal happiness,” Luca continues. “But there is more at stake here than yourself, Liam. There is an alliance at stake, other lives, other futures. My business, Viktor’s, the people who work for us, who depend on us. If the Kings’ table fractures on account of this, what am I to tell all of those affected? That you were in love? I’m sorry, Liam, but a man of your stature doesn’t get to have the luxury of making choices in a vacuum—”
“Both of you have married for love!” I lash out, snapping angrily as I look between the two of them. “Look me in the eye and tell me that your marriage to Sofia, yours to Caterina, are not marriages of love? You had a second bloody wedding to declare how much you loved each other,” I add, glaring at Viktor. “It’s because of the unions I’ve seen between you and your wives that I dared hope for something better than a cold, distant, loveless marriage—that I hoped for a partnership. A marriage made for love—”
“Saoirse is a good, strong woman.” Viktor frowns. “She could be a partner to you, as much as Sofia is to Luca or Caterina is to me—”
“She’s not the woman I love.”
“Our marriages didn’t start out as love matches,” Luca says, his voice taking on a slight edge. “Think about what you’re saying, Liam. I had no intention of marrying when Rossi told me I had to either wed Sofia or let him eliminate her. I was perfectly happy fucking my way through Manhattan and anywhere else that I happened to go. I’d spent all my adult life promised to a woman I never intended to wed, and I enjoyed being Manhattan’s most notorious, wealthy playboy. But my father, and Sofia’s father, made promises. Promises I was required to uphold, and Idid, out of duty. At first, I didn’t love Sofia, and she didn’t love me. There was desire, plenty of it, but not love. That came later, after we were married—”
