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“That’s not going to happen.”
“If it doesn’t, there will be consequences.”
“Like what kind, brother?” I stand up, dropping the empty glass on the edge of his desk. He grimaces, looking even more pissed. “Are you going to cut off my soldiers? Refuse to pay their wages?”
“I’ll do that and more.” He’s speaking softly now. The bastard really thinks he means it. He’s willing to rip the family apart to protect his wife from a little emotional discomfort. It’s insane. “This is the new reality. I run the family, which means you listen to what I tell you, even if you don’t want to.”
I shake my head, turning away. “I marry who I want.”
“That’s not how these things work.”
“They do now.” I glance at him. “Did you have this same conversation with Father? Back when you wanted to marry Ash? How did that go?”
He doesn’t take the bait, but we both know he’s a damn hypocrite. “End things with Keely. Do your best to minimize the damage.”
“I came here out of respect for you, but that isn’t going to happen.” I walk to the door. “I hope you change your mind.”
“I hope you do too.”
I leave him there, storming away. Already my head’s slipping to bad places, wondering how fast and how hot this fire’s going to burn. If Carson can’t let it go, if he can’t stop himself from making a mess—
My brother and I share certain characteristics. His obsession runs even deeper than mine does—though that doesn’t seem possible—while my temper burns brighter and faster.
If it comes down to a fight, I don’t know who will win, but the Crowley family will lose. There’s no doubt in my mind that an internal conflict will draw our enemies to our bloodied corpse like carrion birds.
Leaving Keely before our time is up isn’t an option. I won’t do it, not for any reason. If I have to cut ties with my brother, leave the family, then I’ll do it. Despite everything, I don’t want the Crowley family to suffer for my choices, and I’ll do the hard thing if that’s what it takes.
But Keely is mine.
I find myself drifting into Mother’s wing. There was a time when I’d come here first, when it would’ve been unimaginable to get married without telling her right away. But those days are long past. Mother’s not the force she used to be.
I pause near her bedroom door, ready to turn back and leave, too angry and too ashamed to face her, when it opens suddenly and her private maid steps out. She’s an older woman named Martha. “Oh, Nolan, you startled me.” She smiles kindly and pats her gray hair. “How are you?”
“I’m fine,” I say, glancing past her. “Is my mother in?”
“Just settling down to eat something. You should go inside and speak with her.” Martha hesitates, clearly wanting to say more, but only smiles and walks past me.
Even Mother’s staff has noticed. Her sons haven’t been as attentive as we once were.
I haven’t been the best son in the world. None of us have been. It’s hard to see Mother these days. When Father was alive, Mother was commanding; she was a presence. In some ways, she was the real power behind the family.
But slowly, after his death, she’s been retreating into herself. Cutting ties, going out less, keeping her opinion to herself.
That’s not the woman I grew up with. Back in the day, Mother was even more terrifying than Father, though she had some warmth and love for us at least.
I push the door open, and head into her private rooms.
She’s sitting at the dining table. The television’s on, playing a tennis match. She’s half-watching, half-eating a big salad, but she sits up straight when I enter.
“Nolan,” she says warmly. My mother stands. Even in her old age, she’s a good-looking Irish woman. Full head of hair, good bones, tall and fit. I give her a tight hug as she directs me to a chair. “I didn’t know you were visiting.”
“I had a talk with Carson just now. I thought I might check in.”
Her smile is tight. “I hear things between the two of you have been strained.”
I glance away. “People are talking about it?”
“Hard for them not to, dear. The pair of you were best friends for years, but now it’s like you can’t be in the same room without getting into an argument.”
