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“I don’t desire Saoirse, either,” I say flatly. “Not in that way. I don’t want to marry her or fuck her.”
“Then you’re fucking blind,” Luca says bluntly. “I’m married, not dead, Liam. Saoirse is gorgeous. You could do far, far worse—”
“She’s not Ana—”
“Do you hear yourself?” Viktor glares at me. “Droning on about love and desire, like a fucking woman—”
“Are you telling me you didn’t desire Caterina?”
“Of course I did.” Viktor snorts. “Caterina was beautiful from the day I first saw her, long before I could have married her. Sofia is, as well. I would have taken either of them and gladly. Sofia is the descendant of Bratva royalty on her mother’s side; she would have solidified my position aspakhan, just as Saoirse will solidify yours. Had my plan worked, I would have taken Sofia, married her, fucked her, made her the mother of my children, and been happy to do so as I used that marriage to take over Rossi’s territory.”
“Easy,” Luca mutters, glaring at him. “We’re allies now, but Sofia is my wife and the mother of my—”
“So she is,” Viktor says, smiling tersely. “And since you wed her first, I demanded Caterina instead, another mafia princess to make an alliance with. If I couldn’t beat you by stealing Giovanni’s daughter, I joined you instead, by making the Rossi girl my wife. I desired Caterina, certainly, just as I’d desired Sofia. But above all, it was their usefulness to me that made me want to marry them, each of them.” He narrows his eyes at me. “This is the lesson you need to learn, Liam. These marriages—Luca’s and mine, were not made for lust or love. They were made to keep promises, fulfill duty, and build alliances. They were business decisions, first. After that came lust, and later, love. The love was a fortunate byproduct of our marriages and one that I admit we are lucky to have. I gain a great deal from the love of my wife, as does Luca. But this is the part that you need to understand—even if I hated Caterina, and she me, as she did at first—we would still be wed.
Viktor sits back, looking at me with clear irritation. “I don’t care if you hate Saoirse O’Sullivan to her very bones, Liam. I don’t care if you have to flip her over on your wedding night and bury her face in the pillow so that you can imagine it’s Anastasia’s pussy you’re filling instead. You need to marry her for the good of this alliance and for your own good as well. I don’t care if you love Anastasia, or keep her as a mistress, so long as it doesn’t threaten your marriage. But marrying the Ivanova girl is out of the question.” He shakes his head. “You can’t possibly think that the Kings would settle for a marriage with a Russian girl of no consequence, fucked by at least a dozen different men before she came to your bed, kidnapped and sold, with nothing to offer, unstable and damaged? When you have Saoirse O’Sullivan, an Irish princess if there was one in this modern age, contracted to marry you?”
“What Viktor is trying to say,” Luca begins, but I shake my head, slamming my fist down on the table as I sit up straighter.
“Thisinterventionis a waste of your time,” I say tightly. “I have no intention of going through with the marriage to Saoirse or insulting Ana by telling her that the best I can give her, after I’ve asked her to love and devote herself only to me, is a place as my mistress.”
“But you’ll insult Graham O’Sullivan and his daughter by breaking a contract made in church.” Luca shakes his head. “I’m more patient than Viktor is, Liam, but mine is being stretched as well. It’s not just our business arrangement, but my personal life that you’re straining with this nonsense. Unless you’ve forgotten, as I’m sure you haven’t, my wife is Ana’s best friend. So much so that she dropped everything and flew to Boston, barely asking me beforehand if I was alright with it, when Ana called her sobbing over Saoirse. So much so that she laid intomefor not telling her that you were engaged and keeping her best friend in your home and likely in your bed, to boot. We haven’t fought like that since before—” Luca shakes his head. “You’re straining the goodwill of everyone around you, Liam. You need to think—”
“So everyone has said.” I glare at him. “Is it right of me to drag Saoirse into a loveless marriage? It’s not right of me to marry where I’ll be happy, but it’s fine for me to do that?”
“Saoirse knows that love isn’t guaranteed where marriage is arranged,” Luca says calmly. “She expects it. I’m certain of that.” He lets out a long breath. “I know this is difficult for you, but it’s for the good of the families—the greater good. You can depend on that.”
“So that’s it?” I look between the two of them, Levin and Alessio silent and grave just beyond them. Except for Niall at my back, I’ve never felt more alone. “You demand that I go through with the wedding, and I’m expected to just—go along with what you demand?”
“If you want the alliance to continue, yes.” Viktor pushes himself to his feet. “There’s nothing more to say, Liam. You’ve made a promise and signed a contract. Breaking it isn’t an option, not without tearing apart everything we’ve built. I know you’re better than that. At least—I hope so.” He jerks his head in Levin’s direction, who gives me a sympathetic glance before following his boss out.
Luca stands too, Alessio just behind him. “I’m sorry, Liam. I’d like to tell you to do as you please. I’m grateful that Sofia and I have what we have. Viktor and I have both experienced tension in the early days of our marriages. It’s not easy when it’s not wanted by all parties. But in this world, it is necessary.” He pauses as he walks behind my chair, one hand settling briefly on my shoulder. “I wish I could tell you differently.”
When he and Alessio are gone, the room otherwise empty besides the two of us, Niall comes to sit where Luca was.
“We need to talk, Liam,” he says quietly, and I stifle a groan.
“Not you, too. I know what you think of Saoirse, Niall, and—”
“It’s not that.” Niall leans forward, his voice low as he links his fingers on the table in front of him. “I have news of a sort, Liam.”
“Did you knock some woman up? Are we having a double wedding?”
“It’s serious.”
The expression on his face sobers me, and any hint of gallows humor immediately flees. “What is it?”
“I’ve heard rumors from the Dublin table. About your brother.”
For a moment, I think I stop breathing. I’ve spent the past few years thinking about my brother in as abstract of terms as possible, not wanting to consider the ramifications if he were alive, unable to come to terms with the possibility of him being truly dead. And now Niall, the man I trust most, the closest thing I have left to a brother in the world, is sitting in front of me and telling me that he has news. Or, if not news, at the very least, rumors.
“Do you want to hear it?” Niall lets out a breath. “Ah, what am I saying? Yaneedto hear it for the good of yourself and the rest of the table.”
“Everyone today has an opinion about that.” I press my lips together, steadying myself. Truthfully, I don’t know if I want to hear it. Whatever it is, rumors or not, it’ll change the way I think about Connor, what I hope for, in the rare moments when I allow myself to hope for something in regards to him.
But Niall is right. If there’s news about Connor, I need to hear it.
“Tell me,” I say simply, and Niall nods.
