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But he had to admit she'd been right. Thanks to her preparation, Lyon had been able to talk about Declan’s new position at Walsh Media. He’d been able to discuss with Nick the transition of the Murphy business from an illegal one to a company that actually provided the surveillance and security — within the law — that it had pretended to provide back when the Murphy brothers had been killing people for a living.
Thanks to Kira, Lyon knew Nick and his wife, Alexa, had adopted two children. He knew Finn and Elise were home only temporarily, a break from their nomadic lifestyle that kept them out of the country most of the time.
He also knew that Ronan Murphy was the oldest of the four brothers, and that he’d been the unofficial leader of the Murphy company before he joined the Syndicate to take over the Chicago territory.
Not that Lyon had had a chance to speak to Ronan about anything meaningful. The hour he and Kira had spent at the Murphy house so far had been spent eating, drinking, and talking about everything from baseball (the Murphys loved it), reality TV shows Lyon didn’t watch (the Murphys apparently loved that too), and the merits of Boston versus Chicago beer.
It was all weirdly normal.
In the kitchen, Kira handed the baby to Kate Walsh and kissed the infant’s forehead. Lyon felt a powerful and unfamiliar wave of longing. Two months earlier, he’d been sure she would make an amazing mother to their children. Now he wasn’t sure they would ever have the chance to find out, wasn’t sure it was wise to even consider further bonding himself to her.
She said something to Kate and opened the fridge like she’d been there a hundred times before. How did she do it? How did she look as at home in a designer gown as she did in jeans and a white T-shirt? As comfortable discussing bratva strategy as she was holding a baby?
She walked toward him, smiling at the Murphys as she passed, touching the heads of the children who ran past.
She handed him a beer, and he stared down at her.
“A beer doesn’t make up for this,” he said.
She looked up at him with feigned innocence. “For what?”
“This…” He looked at the crowd. Someone had put on music, which only added to the cacophony. “This chaos.”
She laughed and squeezed his arm. He hated the rush of pleasure that rolled through him at the casual touch of her hand. “This isn’t chaos. This is family.” She looked around. “You have to admit, it’s nice, all these people who know and love each other no matter what. No matter what happens with the Syndicate in the future, or with Walsh Media Group or the Murphy company, they’ll have that. There must be a lot of comfort in it.”
It was true, but that didn’t mean he wanted her to know it was true. It didn’t mean she needed to know about the envy he’d felt along with his shock at the sheer size and presence of the Murphy family.
This was what he’d pictured when he’d bought the house in Lake Forest. Well, perhaps a slightly more restrained version of it, but the key components were there: love and laughter and children.
He didn’t dare think about it. Not anymore.
“What am I doing here?” he asked her.
“Just be patient, Lyon.”
As if on cue, the doorbell rang. Ronan Murphy left the room, returning a moment later with a tall, broad-shouldered man and an elegant blond woman. A child of about ten years old held the woman’s hand. She had her mother’s flaxen hair and green eyes.
Lyon recognized them immediately: Nico Vitale and his wife, Angel. He thought he remembered that the little girl’s name was Stella, although Kira hadn’t prepared him for the presence of the head of the Syndicate’s international operation.
“Why didn’t you tell me Nico would be here?” Lyon asked.
“I didn’t know,” Kira said. “But Julia invited us, so I assumed she thought it would be helpful in one way or another.”
Ronan said something to the little girl. She hesitated, studying the crowd, and Lyon saw a shadow of Nico’s watchfulness in her eyes. When she seemed to have a handle on the room, she skipped off to join the other children. They were obviously familiar, which meant the group hung out together often.
Nico shook Ronan’s hand, and Angel handed over a gift, obviously for the baby’s christening the day before. Lyon was glad Kira had insisted they bring a gift as well, although he had no idea what was in the box wrapped in pale yellow paper she’d handed to Julia.
Nico and Angel entered the room, and the Murphy family seemed to quiet the slightest bit, parting enough to allow them through without being jostled.
Nico and Angel spoke to Julia, both offering hugs and warm smiles.
Lyon had seen Nico in person before, but always at a distance. The Syndicate and the bratva were wary of each other. The two organizations, along with the Irish mob and the South American cartels, made up the most significant illegal holdings in the country. They were rivals first and foremost, although Nico had made inroads in softening the competition into something that, if not exactly friendly, was at least financially beneficial to all parties involved.
Now Lyon could see why Nico had managed to take over the Syndicate. Technically, he had three equal partners in its leadership, an unusual arrangement for their business, but everyone knew Nico was the unofficial leader.
Seeing him up close, Lyon understood why. His casual suit was tailored and expensive, but there was no hiding the prowl in his walk, the way he commanded the room, not just with power, with an undercurrent of violence that was almost indiscernible, but with an approachability that clearly inspired loyalty.
Julia handed Nico and Angel beers — the Murphys liked their beer — and the couple made the rounds, saying hello to the Murphy family and the other guests. When they’d circulated through the room, Angel peeled off to talk to Julia.
