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Neither man reacted to Evie’s sharp intake of breath, but Aidan knew if it surprised her that Declan was more than willing to make good on his threat. His brother turned toward the door again.
“I hope you make the right choice,” Declan said before disappearing.
Aidan stared at the empty space where his brother had been, fingers twitching with the urge to break every goddamn thing in the room. Ironically, Declan’s threat of marriage or banishment might be the first real choice Aidan had ever been given. His laugh was bitter.
The youngest son of the most powerful crime family in Philadelphia, he’d never been more than a prop for his brother’s rise to power, and he’d been raised as such. He was considered a cog in the wheel—when he was considered at all.
Declan had amassed more money and power in the last decade than even Aidan thought possible. Declan’s plan to remake the syndicate into a far-reaching empire had been set in motion long before their father died in a car accident three years ago. It would be truly impressive if he hadn’t let the power go entirely to his head.
Leaving Declan’s office untouched, Aidan stepped into the hall and climbed the stairs to his bedroom. The house was quiet save for the low hum of vacuum cleaners and conversation as the maids made their rounds.
At the top of the stairs, he turned toward his bedroom, stopping at the corner and staring down the long hall to the wing where his brother’s suite of rooms was. If Declan was the king, then Glenmore House was his palace, and it was only a matter of time before he took that from Aidan as well.
Brogan, the third and last surviving Callahan son, still lived at Glenmore with his whore, the Italian princess who’d caused this whole mess in the first place. But Brogan was useful behind the screens of his computers. In an ever-growing digital landscape where fewer cops were interested in being bought, Brogan’s skill set was vital to safeguard syndicate interests.
Apparently, the only thing Aidan brought to the table was fucking some faceless woman. Not something he really minded until his brother’s announcement. In fact, nameless and faceless was the way he preferred to take his women. Nameless, faceless, and never more than once. Lovers didn’t suit him.
He bared his teeth as he pushed into his room. Not that he intended to make a lover out of her. Marry her, fuck her, get her pregnant. That was his duty here, as Declan said. A duty he would apparently perform, albeit against his will.
Once she was pregnant, he fully intended to leave her to raise the kid while he went on with his life. He could set her up in a nice house and get the kid a nanny. Maybe a male nanny. Then she could have her fun too. Play house with someone who wasn’t him.
Scrubbing a hand over his face, he flicked on the light, eyes narrowing on a garment bag on the bed. Crossing to it, he lifted the note off the top and flipped it open to read.
Wear this tonight. Scarpetta 7 p.m. Don’t be late.
Gritting his teeth, he crumpled the note in his fist and tossed it into the corner. Now he was being dressed. How quaint. Out of sheer curiosity, he unzipped the bag. It wasn’t a suit as he’d expected. Merely a pair of dark gray slacks and a green cashmere sweater.
He zipped the bag back up and crossed to the closet to change into running clothes. He needed a punishing distraction if he was going to get through tonight with a straight face.
Leaving Philadelphia was an option, but not one he liked. He could join any number of criminal organizations. Boston, New York, Chicago. He could probably even hop the pond and fit right in somewhere in Ireland. But Philly was his home, and the Callahan legacy was as much his as anyone else’s.
Declan would get what he wanted like he always did. An alliance cemented by marriage and children and those blood ties he craved so much. But Aidan would do it on his own terms as much as he could manage. He might be a pawn, but he wouldn’t be a puppet.
ChapterTwo
He arrived fifteen minutes late simply because he could. After pulling up outside the restaurant and handing his keys to the valet, Aidan let himself in and gave his name to the hostess. She flirted heavily, and on any other night, he might have returned her advances. Tonight he felt like he was about to face a firing squad.
Declan had rented out one of the private rooms, larger than they needed for their party, probably to give people room to mingle, standing in groups with glasses in their hands and chatting in low voices.
It was odd that Declan hadn’t insisted on meeting at Breá, his high-end steakhouse and bar. It had two private rooms and a ballroom on the second floor. Declan liked to meet on his own turf.
Aidan watched Declan’s hand skim down his wife’s back and rest on her hip. Tonight’s dinner must be Evie’s doing. His brother had been taking far too much direction from his wife in recent months.
Declan and Evie were chatting with an older couple. The Falcones, no doubt. Aidan could only assume. He’d never been invited to any of the meetings they had with Falcone after choosing him to replace Giordano as the head of the Mafia. Ostensibly because they were keeping this whole marriage thing a secret and didn’t want Falcone saying the wrong thing and ruining their sick game.
Brogan engaged another group of two men and two women he assumed to be their wives. When Brogan shifted, Aidan caught sight of Libby’s blonde hair, and his stomach tightened. If anyone was responsible for the hell this family had endured over the last few months, it was Libby Giordano.
She’d brought this nightmare to their doorstep with her desperate pleas for help to stop her father’s sex trafficking ring and save her sister, Teresa, from its clutches. A nightmare that had ended with his brother dead and buried, and now this travesty of a marriage he’d be bound to for life. He would give anything to go back to that hot August day and undo it all.
Aidan ordered a glass of scotch when the waitress stopped to ask if he needed anything, grateful no one had noticed him yet. Tearing his eyes away from Libby’s swinging blonde hair, he found the last group of guests. His uncle Sean and cousin James tucked into the far corner talking to two men and a woman.
The man had his arm wrapped loosely around the woman’s shoulders, and Aidan cocked his head. Had his blushing bride brought a date? Her back was to him, and dark brown hair hung straight to her shoulders. Slimmer than he would normally go for, but you didn’t need to be physically attracted to someone to procreate.
The waitress pressed a tumbler into his hand and sent him a flirty grin. He didn’t even have the heart to return it. Christ, something was wrong with him. After dinner he’d have to swing by the club and pick someone up, make sure Declan’s missive hadn’t permanently scarred him or something.
When he looked back at the room, he caught Declan’s eye. Irritation at Aidan’s tardiness flitted across his brother’s face, but he masked it with a smile he usually reserved for schmoozing politicians.
“You made it,” Declan said as he crossed the room. He clapped Aidan on the shoulder and squeezed so hard Aidan had to fight not to wince. “Let’s make some formal introductions.”
