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“No,” I interrupt him. “You didn’t want to lose your power. And now you’ve come to me for what? Who took over after his death? That should be the person you’re talking to now, about whatever your grievances are—”
“Liam sits at the head of the table. For now.”
I go very still at that, narrowing my eyes. It makes sense—the McGregors have run the Boston Kings for generations, and with me effectively disappearing and the senior McGregor dead, Liam would have been the next logical choice.
Still, it’s hard for me to imagine it. My mischievous, funny, careless brother, full of life and energy, who had never been raised to lead men or have much responsibility at all, sitting at the head of the table of the Boston Kings. I try not to think of my younger brother often—of all that I left behind, my relationship with him is what I miss the most.
“And how has that gone?” I ask dryly.
“I thought he had potential,” Graham says, his arms crossed. “I even betrothed Saoirse to him, as would be expected. But like many men, he was led astray.”
I frown. “Speak plainly, man,” I tell him flatly. “I’m not in any mood for a long saga.” I glance at Saoirse and then back at her father. “He broke the engagement.”
“For what reason? Is she not a virgin?”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Saoirse snaps, and I look back at her, surprised. I’m not sure I’ve ever heard her curse before in my life.
“Filthy mouth, for a spoiled princess,” I observe. “Then again—”
“Liam broke the engagement because he became obsessed with a former ballerina that he met. A friend of Luca Romano’s wife, Anastasia Ivanova.” Saoirse purses her lips, and it’s clear from her expressionexactlywhat she thinks of this girl. “He insisted on marrying her. Apparently, she now carries his child. Not because of anythingIdid,” she adds pointedly.
“Of course not,” I say agreeably, a tinge of sarcasm coloring my tone. “But still,” I add, glancing back at Graham. “I don’t see what any of this has to do with me or why it would warrant luring me up here with the promise of your daughter’s sweet virgin pussy—which I’m guessing Iwon’tget to sample tonight, after all.”
I can almosthearGraham’s teeth grinding, which pleases me. After all, his little plots and plans have disrupted my evening and left me with one hell of a case of blue balls, neither of which are improving my mood.
“Don’t speak of Saoirse again like that in my presence,” he says harshly. “I’m still your elder, Connor McGregor, and—“
“I go by William Davies now.” I cut him off smoothly. “Connor McGregor is dead. As for the Boston Kings and whatever sins my brother is currently committing? I’m sorry to tell you, Graham, but that’s not my problem anymore.” I reach out, neatly plucking my leather jacket off Saoirse’s shoulders. “I would say good evening, but it hasn’t been—not at all. So instead, I’ll simply wish you a good trip back to Boston and take my leave.”
“You’re going to want to hear the rest, lad,” Graham says gruffly, but I’m already shrugging into my jacket, and I glance at him, shaking my head.
“No, I don’t think I do. See, Graham, though I know you’re hard-pressed to think of anything beyond Boston and your place in the Kings, I’ve been steadily building my own empire here in London these past years.”
“Among Englishmen.” Graham looks as if he wants to spit on the plush hotel carpet. “You’ve turned your back on your own countrymen, for—”
“For men who follow me out of true loyalty, not because of the name I bear.” I glare at him. “There was no true loyalty at that table. I saw that for myself. It's just backstabbing and power-grabbing, and I see that it’s still more of the same. Or isn’t that why you’re here, to dangle your virgin daughter in front of me and see if I’ll take the bait, come back and oust my brother from his seat?”
Graham looks momentarily speechless, and I take advantage of that to plow forward. “I have my own problems here in London, Graham. Rival gangs on my turf, shipment problems, keeping the weapons I funnel to the Irish cause under the radar.” I smirk at Graham’s reaction to that, his eyes widening briefly. “See? I haven’t forgotten my countrymen. I’ve just put the Kings behind me because I have no use for their squabbling and power-hungry machinations. I’ve built something here, and I have no interest in looking back. I want nothing to do with my family or the Kings, Graham O’Sullivan,” I tell him firmly. “It means nothing to me now.”
With that said, I turn away, intending to leave. I even get halfway to the door, thinking the conversation is finished, before Graham’s voice stops me in my tracks.
“And your brother’s life? Does that mean anything to you,Connor?”
