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Roger parks outside of the Crowley mansion. I pause, looking out the window at the austere columns, at the perfectly manicured hedges. “Everything okay?” he asks.
I nod once, giving him a hard look. “Wait for me here.” Roger’s a good soldier, one of my top lieutenants, but I don’t like that he’s asking personal questions like that.
Makes me feel weak, and weakness can’t be tolerated in my line of work. Even if my relationship with Keely practically screams to everyone in earshot how soft I’m getting.
“You got it.”
“And starting tomorrow, you’re back to work on Keely’s shop. Tell the guys. I’ll pay double rate.”
“Nobody’s going to complain about that.”
I shove the door open and head inside. It’s quiet, like the second I transition into the mansion, all life is sucked out from the world. This place is a museum, a monument to our family’s power, but there’s nothing warm about it. There’s nothing alive in these four walls. Though I think Carson wants to change that.
Growing up here was difficult. My brothers made it bearable despite the fact our father was always trying to make us compete with each other. Carson and I were close back then; we were close all the way until the last few years, but our friendship has been strained ever since he got together with Ash. I hate that about him. But back then, when we were kids, it was like he and I were trying to survive this place together. Liam and Finn, they were a part of the tribe too, but not like me and Carson.
Father was hardest on the two of us. Carson because Father wanted him to lead one day. Me because I was always the first one to mouth off.
These halls, these rooms, they were our prison and our playground. I have a dozen stories for each corner in every hallway in every wing of this massive monstrosity.
It feels so distant now with Father gone and Carson in charge. Mother’s been keeping to herself, hiding out in her private wing. I need to visit her later, but for now, I have to get this discussion over with.
Carson’s in his office. Still strange to call it his. I may never get used to that. I find him hunched over his desk, looking through a ledger, probably checking the books of his various captains and lieutenants. I pour myself a drink until he looks up, leans back, and sighs. “Brother. Where have you been?”
“Took a trip to Vegas.”
“I heard you used the family jet. What were you doing there?”
His face is carefully neutral. Which means he already knows. “I got married,” I say, taking a drink of whiskey.
His expression doesn’t change. “I hope to someone smart.”
“Keely seems very intelligent.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“I know.” I shrug, keeping my temper in check.
“You did it then?” His face twitches. The mask cracks. “You really married Keely?”
“We have an arrangement, yes.” I sit down and take another drink. “A mutually beneficial arrangement.”
“One that involves marrying my wife’s friend.” His voice is a snarl. “I told you not to do this.”
“And I told you I’d do what I wanted.”
“The family—”
“Isn’t aboutyoueither, Carson, though you might think it is.”
He bristles. “It’s about harmony in our house. If you marry Keely, and you end up hurting her—”
“That’s my business, not yours.”
“It’ll become mine. When you hurt Keely, it’ll hurt Ash. And if you hurt my wife—”
“Stop with the bluster.” I finish my whiskey. “I know you think everything I do reflects back on you, but for once in my life, this has nothing to do with the Crowley family. I married Keely because I wanted to.”
He takes two deep breaths before responding. “I will give you a week to change your mind.”
