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‘No fucking way is she marrying that piece of shit.’ Mac’s chair clattered as he stood up abruptly, his face reddening with anger.
‘I’m not Dad, of course I won’t marry her off to Harold. But we need to buy time until we can hit them hard. They have stronger connections locally, and a lot more money to bribe their way out of shit. We need to either build some alliances or find some way to ruin their existing ones.’ Logan swirled his wine in his glass, staring into it as if it might hold an answer.
‘So you want to parade her in front of him to appease him, but draw out any deals long enough to fuck him up?’ Ewen said, looking from Logan to Mac.
‘We need time.’
I took a deep breath to steady my nerves before stepping into the marble laden kitchen. ‘I’ll do it.’
‘Maeve... you weren’t supposed to hear that,’ Logan said as he glanced over my head to the cavernous hall behind me.
‘Don’t worry, Gregor went to check the cameras and touch base with the others.’ I poured myself a glass of red wine and leant back against the countertop. A small sip was about all I could manage without screwing up my face. No matter how hard I tried, I just couldn’t like the bitter drink. ‘I’m not the baby anymore. I want to help.’
‘You can’t. I won’t let you go throw yourself in front of that arsehole as bait.’ Mac’s jaw tensed as he spoke, the words laced with fury.
‘You guys can’t keep me wrapped in bubble-wrap forever. I’m a part of this family and if I can help, I want to. As long as I don’t actually have to marry the pig, then I can do this. You’d all be there, right?’
Logan nodded.
‘Then what’s the harm? As long as the party is in neutral territory and we have our guys there for protection, then no-one is going to hurt me. He wants to marry me, not abduct me. I can string him along for a few weeks while you guys do your thing.’ I tried to sound confident and convincing, despite my stomach flip flopping and a terrible taste of sick at the back of my mouth. Even the thought of being near Harold made my body shrivel. His obsession with my mother had led to all of this. And since he couldn’t have her, only dad’s daughters would do. I’d seen him hurt my sister, consoled her after he tried to force himself on her. It was risky to even play at the game.
‘No.’ Mac slammed his glass down onto the gold flecked marble as the red wine sloshed out and pooled around the base.
‘Do you have a better plan?’ Logan eyed him coolly.
‘We go in there and take them all out. Every one of those Thompson fucks. Then we’ll be done with them for good.’ Mac’s voice had raised to a near shout as anger poured from him.
Ewen grabbed a cloth and mopped up the wine. ‘I’m with Logan. If Maeve wants to help, we need to let her. We don’t have another choice and we need time to get into Harold’s contacts. It’s three against one Mac. Sorry.’
Mac sent me a pleading look and I let my gaze fall into my still full wine glass. I was hurting him, and I hated it. He was the closest I’d ever had to a best friend. I cleared my throat as he threw up his arms and left the room.
‘I don’t like this either, Maeve. You’ll need to do exactly as we say. Never be alone at the party. And this is a onetime thing. Once it’s done, you’re out of it and getting on with things as usual.’ Logan spoke with an absolute authority he’d clearly been practicing since Dad’s absence, each word firm and final.
I’d hoped offering to help would solidify my place as one of them, but as always, I was still on the outskirts. Demoted because of the misfortune of being female.
I’d prove to them I was just as essential to the business.
But first, I had a party to prepare for.
CHAPTER TWO
CAMERON
All I wanted to do was get out of there.
As much as I enjoyed lilting jazz music and glasses brimming with vintage Dom Perignon, my father’s party was the last place I wanted to be.
‘Bide your time, lad,’ my father muttered at me as I looked again toward the exits, ever alert when McGowans were around. So far, only Ewen had arrived. The middle son of the McGowan clan, and probably the most laid back from what I’d seen.
He’d gone to the exclusive finishing school, St Guinevere’s, that anyone with money attended. He’d been in my year, but we spent our time with much different circles. Whoever said that crime doesn’t pay was an idiot. We had money in spades. And money bought influence. The McGowans had money too, but nowhere near to the extent that Father did.
‘Do you really need the girl?’ I asked, keeping my eyes moving through the packed room. Everyone who was anyone was there.
‘Yes.’ Father’s stare fixed on me. ‘Malcolm McGowan promise me a wife, and a wife I will have.’
‘You hate the McGowans.’ Why he wanted to be attached to one was beyond me.
‘All the more reason to have them in my pocket. I’ve spent years eroding their influence in Scotland and I finally have them where I need them. Controllable. Bedding the bitch is merely icing on the cake.’
