Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 93048 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 465(@200wpm)___ 372(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93048 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 465(@200wpm)___ 372(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
“Here’s a list of my father’s former Capos. Some are definitely still active, but others are either dead or operating somewhere else. I’m betting at least a few are good targets.”
“I recognize some of these names,” he murmurs, looking at the screen. “You’re good with this? Weren’t they a part of your Famiglia, once upon a time?”
I glance toward the window overlooking the streets. It’s a quiet, shady street, with lots of family homes and big leafy trees. Not the richest part of the city, but not the worst by a mile. A good place to live and to grow up.
“When my father died, they made their choices. None of them stepped up to help me. Half of them wanted me dead, and the other half wanted to force me into marriage. Marco’s the only one that kept me safe.”
Ronan makes a soft noise in the back of his throat. “They’re all bastards. I wouldn’t have done that to you.”
“You wouldn’t have? I doubt it.”
“You think I’m so bad?”
“I think you’re a smarter man than you let on.”
He tilts his head, studying me. “You’re right. I would’ve married you in a heartbeat.” He hesitates and lets that linger as a chill runs down my bare arms. “At least, if I were one of them.”
“Good thing you’re not.”
His lips part and he moistens the lower one. “Let me ask you something. What did you make of everyone out there?” He nods at the office door.
I follow his gaze. “Your family? They seem nice.”
“Nice?” His eyebrows raise. “Love, we’re a crime family. Half the men in that room have at least one murder to their name. Half the women too.”
“Nice is a relative term here.” I squirm slightly, not sure what he’s looking for.
“Did you notice anything? About the way they were positioned?”
He’s watching me closely, and I think back to Niall’s tour. I suddenly realize it happened in stages: the men out front, the men in the living room, the people in the kitchen, a smattering of others moving between the different groups. “Factions?” I ask him. “Is that what you’re worried about? Every family has them.”
“Yes, love, factions.” He leans back in his chair, arms over his chest, not looking at me. “That’s what I’m dealing with. Ever since my father died and I took over, the family’s been slowly splintering apart. I’m keeping it together, but only barely, and now—” He looks at me before pressing his lips tightly together. “That’s why you’re here.”
Our knees brush again. I feel another soft shock on my skin. All the little hairs on my arms stand on end like the room’s filled with static. The way he’s looking at me is just like the way he looked at me yesterday when he barged into my apartment. I should be pissed about that—my head still hurts from banging it on the wall—but there’s a strange thrill underlying my anger.
He stared at me. He really looked at me, and I swear, I’ve never liked being seen like that before in my life. But somehow with him, it felt so good, being undressed and naked in front of a man like that, totally vulnerable. He liked it too, I could tell. He couldn’t keep his eyes off me after that, and right now I’m pretty sure he’s picturing me naked again.
“How am I supposed to help with your factions?”
“I’ve been giving it thought. The boys respond to strength and stability, right? And you are an opportunity for both.”
An ugly feeling sinks into my stomach. I don’t like where this is going. “How am I good for both?”
“Your jobs will provide the strength. We’ll hit your former network and take as much of it as we can. That’ll grow our business and bring in more power.”
“Okay, but how does that help with stability?”
“It makes the lads happy. Gives them something to do aside from lounge around and talk shit. It also fills their pockets, and that’s always good.” He leans toward me, staring into my face. “But you know families like mine. You’re an Italian and that’s no good, but you’re still smart. I suspect you had more to do with Marco’s alliance than you let on.”
I resist the urge to touch my hair. It’s a nervous tell, and we’re having a dangerous conversation. I don’t want Ronan to realize he’s getting to me. “You’re offering me a partnership?”
“Yes, love, a partnership. We can call it that. You’ll have a place in my family, you’ll bring in more work, and we’ll both prosper. How does that sound?”
It sounds like he’s not telling me everything. There are only so many former Santoro Capos hanging around Chicago and only so many jobs we can pull on them before we run out. Once that happens, what use am I to him?