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She slid out of the car and shut the door closed. Her mom continued her mom rant, and Lara simply agreed or made some humming sounds to show she hadn’t hung up. When they finally ended the conversation, she put her cell in her bag and sighed. She should have known her mother could be a liability for this marriage.
“Hey,” said a male voice behind her.
She turned to see Troy, emerging out of his home office. “Hi. Home early?”
“Just catching up on some stuff from here,” he said.
“Any news on my brother’s situation?”
“I’m meeting Conor. Texted him today.”
“I need for you to make things happen. If not, none of this will be worth it,” she said. She’d have to put up with her mom questioning her every decision from now on. Her brother had to be safe. “Handle this. I want my mom to come to our party and you need to make sure any misunderstanding with that guy is cleared out.”
“Will do.”
She perched her hands in her waist. “When?”
“Tomorrow.”
7
Troy rolled up his sleeves as he waited in the impressive home of Conor O’Donnell.
“Mr. O’Donnell will be right here, sir,” the muscle head who had opened the door informed him. Then, he disappeared up the stairs and left him standing in the living area.
He refused to sit, at least for now.
The previous day, he’d guaranteed to Lara he’d handle Miguel’s situation with Conor O’Donnell today.
He doubted the hot-blooded man would simply accept his apology. Shit, he hated asking to make amends too. Blood simmered in his veins. This visit would make him weaker—would make his family perceived as weak, which was the opposite of how he wanted to impress his father and gain control of the operations.
Conor showed up, with his blond hair slicked back. Medium height and average built, he could see how Miguel had been able to overpower him. A small scar marred his neck, and there were many versions as to how he’d earned it. Troy didn’t particularly care about any of them. “Troy. Have a seat,” he said, gesturing at the leather sofa.
Troy swallowed, but didn’t move an inch. Not yet. “Thank you for seeing me,” he said.
Conor canted his head, then sat on the sofa across from the one close to Troy. He sat at last, his gaze trained on Conor. “What do you want?”
“To apologize on behalf of Miguel Nunes. It was an honest mistake as you probably gathered. You weren’t the man we meant to hurt.”
Miguel Nunes had been a loose cannon. Their instruction had been to threaten first, and only use violence as a last resort. Many debtors had the money laying around but didn’t pay to get a leg up or just be assholes. But Miguel had gone in with all guns blazing—and pointed them at the wrong guy.
Conor regarded him, eyes narrowing. “Doesn’t matter why he beat me up, does it? He made a mistake, and I can’t just sweep that under the rug.”
“I understand. Which is why I’m here. Let’s talk about what would make it better.”
Conor barked a laughter. “Make it better? What are you, my mother? That fucking loser ran like a rat. If he shows up in town again, he’s dead meat.”
The pulse in his neck ticked. “I can’t have that. C’mon, Conor, be reasonable. Maybe one of our properties downtown can switch hands and you can get over it.”
“A property downtown?” Conor whistled. “You must really want this guy off the hook.”
“Do you want it or not?”
“Is it maybe because Miguel’s sister is the woman you just married?”
Apprehension dripped down his spine. Of course he should have assumed that Conor would know it by now and connected the dots. He’d hoped on solving things now so the news wouldn’t get to his father. “I was dating her for a while. That’s why I hired him to work for me,” he said, managing to sound casual.
“Interesting. Because a cynical man such as myself would think she married you to make up for her fuck-up brother. How else would she secure your protection?”
