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We drive through the city until we reach the meeting place where, inside, Carrick Donnelly waits. Word had spread far more quickly than I’d expected and just before I’d gone in search of Imogen, I’d received a phone call that he wanted to meet within the hour. Briefly, I’d considered telling him that I was unavailable, but then decided the sooner he understands how things are going to work with me being the one in charge, the better. I certainly don’t want him getting the idea that I’m intimidated.
Darragh steps out of the vehicle first and I follow. We’re in one of the most populated area of the city, overrun with all the tourists who come to experience Dublin. It’s smart of him to set up the meeting here. Too many witnesses. We enter through the red wooden door of the establishment and make our way toward the table in the back where Donnelly and his eldest son, Cian, already sit.
It’s more than obvious the two men are related. They bear a striking resemblance to each other, despite the near black hair Carrick has and the son’s reddish-brown. In fact, all three of Donnelly’s sons bear the same features. The bright blue eyes, the pronounced nose that widens slightly at the base, and the shape of their face. Something tickles the back of my mind, but I can’t put my finger on it.
I take a seat across from the elder Donnelly, while Darragh sits across from the younger. The two men glare at each other with barely contained contempt. To the other patrons, this probably appears to be a simple business meeting, when it’s anything but. I glance at Cian.
“How’s Nessa, by the way?” I can’t help but inquire. Not that I particularly care. I’m merely hoping for some type of reaction.
His jaw clenches and he smiles tightly. “I’m surprised you give a damn.”
“I don’t, actually. Call me curious.”
“That isn’t why we’re here, Campbell,” the elder Donnelly speaks for the first time.
My gaze slowly drifts to meet his. He’s far more relaxed than his son. There’s a hardness in his eyes that clearly says he is a man to be feared. Too bad for him, I’m not one who scares easily.
“Ah, yes. A man who wants to skip any pleasantries and get straight down to business.”
Carrick leans forward and rests his forearms on the table. “I understand you have taken over your Da’s organization.”
“Dónal Sheehan is not my Da.” I regret snapping out the words the instant they leave my lips.
Donnelly’s smirk says he knows he pushed the right button. “My mistake. Your step-Da, then. That’s awfully ambitious of you. I hope that means we can continue to remain on…friendly terms.”
“I assume by friendly terms, you mean you expect me to be as weak as Sheehan is.” I casually lean back against my chair, unconcerned with the implied threat beneath his words.
He opens his mouth, but closes it as someone passes our table. Once they’re out of earshot, his attention returns to me. “I mean, I’m not sure you have any idea the kind of power I hold in this city. Just because you managed to acquire enough to take over Sheehan’s organization doesn’t mean shit. Like you said, he’s weak. Had I wanted him to be, your Da would long be dead by now. I merely chose to let him run his business as he saw fit, so long as he didn’t interfere with mine.”
I bristle at the insult. “Maybe that’s where you went wrong. You were too soft-hearted. Make no mistake, I’m nothing like Dónal Sheehan. I cower from, and answer to, no one.”
Donnelly stares silently, his gaze assessing. He slowly sits back and a small half-smile appears. “I can see that. You certainly have a lot of ambition. I admire that in a man.”
His condescending tone grates on my nerves. It takes all of my self-control not to kill him and his son right here. He must sense how close to the end of my patience I am, because he chuckles lightly.
“Did you call this meeting for any other reason than to try and intimidate me?” I’ve reached my tolerance limit for sitting here any longer. Imogen’s hot, needy cunt waits to be filled with my cock back at the house. That’s worth far more of my time than this meeting that’s grown tiresome.
“I have no need to resort to intimidation. This was merely a friendly chat to get to know each other a bit better. As one powerful business man to another.” That patronizing—mocking—smirk returns.
“If there’s nothing else then?” Without waiting for a response, I stand. Darragh does as well. “Enjoy the rest of your evening gentlemen.”
Trusting my guard to watch my back, I walk away from the table and the two men who will soon topple from their castle and out to the waiting vehicle. I climb into the backseat with Darragh right behind me.
“Do you think they understand what’s coming?” he asks once we’re on the road toward my estate.
The silence hangs for a moment. “They have no idea.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Imogen
I’ve torn apart this entire house searching for my bag, but wherever Liam put it, it’s well-hidden. The first place I checked was his office. All the bookshelves, the desk drawers, and even behind the paintings on the wall, hoping one of them concealed a safe. No matter where I’ve looked, I continue coming up empty. His departing words haunt me. What did he mean by a regime change? Is he planning on killing Carrick Donnelly?
“God damn it, where would he have put it?”
“Put what?” a disembodied male voice comes from behind me. I scream and whirl around, ready to throw a punch.
A tall, dark-haired stranger stands in the entryway of the living room. He’s casually dressed in jeans and a polo. Far different from the suit-clad men I’ve spied wandering around outside.
