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“What?” Darragh croaks out. “We didn’t discuss that.”
Lachlan cups his brother’s shoulder.
“I don’t want to go back to being a princess.” I glance at Darragh, who looks like the blood has left his face. “Either a Bratva or an Irish one.”
“It seems your husband and I agree on one thing.” Papa referring to Darragh as my husband is a win, even if it will make this underboss pursuit harder for me. “You know nothing about my brotherhood.”
“And that’s your fault,” Lachlan sticks up for me. “Seeing as you’ve not made Maksim your underboss, even though he’s done every scheme imaginable to make you do so, tells me you don’t want him. Don’t trust him. I think Stasia will be perfect.”
I shake off being called Stasia. Stasia was the princess.
“The only way I can control the brotherhood my son will inherit is to be part of the leadership. To rebuild it, better, stronger. Business-oriented, not vengeance.” I stand up and round the desk. “Hold him, Papa. I want you to love him. For him to love you. He’ll be twentieth in line to the O’Rourke throne. As my son, he’s next in your Koslov line. Show your men what he means to you.”
Darragh gives me a soft nod of approval. We can’t fear my father forever.
Papa’s stare lingers, his fingers hovering above the baby blanket. After a nudge, he takes my son into his arms.
When J.P. lets out a coo of happiness, my father’s walls crumble further. Tears build up in his eyes.
“Papa, if you married me to Luka Gideon, he would have taken my son, your heir, and you’d have no one to leave your brotherhood to,” I whisper, desperate for him to see the bright side of what I did.
I still feel horrible for all the people who died because of me. It’s something I will atone every day of my life.
“I accept him as my heir, you are my daughter,” Papa says, his throat clogged with tears he’s holding back. “But Anastasia, you are not underboss material. You know nothing.”
“Then teach her,” Darragh says. “There will be more sons.” Darragh viscerally declares what I mean to him.
And how he’ll be with me forever.
“Just as my father sired a brood of seven men, five of whom run his legacy, your brotherhood can also be run by—”
“More O’Rourkes,” Papa mutters.
“Who I think you’ve figured out are quite formidable,” Lachlan adds.
Papa stares at Lachlan, then Darragh, finally dragging his gaze up and down my frame. “You need training.”
“No kidding. I want training.” I want to be fierce.
I want to be able to kick ass.
Sneaking a look at Lachlan, I see my challenge is to one day take down that magnificent beast.
Darragh, however interjects. “I don’t believe an underboss has to fight.”
“But she’ll need to know how to use a gun and a knife,” Lachlan says. “I’ll make sure she knows combat skills.”
“We fight differently, Enforcer,” Sergei says, hiding a smile.
“Aye,” he answers. “But her last name is O’Rourke, so she’ll be protected by me. Always.”
“Da,” Sergei says.
“Which brings me to a long overdue request, Pakhan.” Lachlan came with his own agenda.
“What is it, Enforcer?” Papa answers him, handing J.P. back to me.
“Maksim.” The hate in my brother-in-law’s voice sends shivers down my spine. “In the past four months, I’ve brought you dozens of issues about him. Anastasia is home. She’ll be your underboss. It’s time we cut him loose.”
