Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 94915 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 475(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94915 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 475(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
He keeps his eyes trained on the cousins sitting around the TV not far away. “I think these people treated you like shit. They let you live with an abuser and they blame you for something your brother did. Then they went ahead and sold you off to me.”
I bristle slightly. “I chose this. Ronan didn’t force me.”
“I know that.”
“And you’re talking like you’re some horrible punishment.”
His eyebrows raise and he glances at me. “You’re saying I’m not?”
“Don’t let it get to your head.”
“My god, that’s the most wonderful compliment you’ve ever given me.”
I elbow him in the ribs. “Now you’re just being a prick.”
“You know what I’m saying.” He leans forward and stares down one of the younger cousins. “These pricks never treated you the way you deserved and you still call them your family. In my world, loyalty is earned.”
“Is that what you think about your grandfather?”
He stiffens, and I can tell that was the wrong thing to say. I’m worried he’s going to explode at me, but instead, his shoulders slump and he leans back, arms crossed over his chest, staring thoughtfully at the table.
“It must look strange to you,” he says, jaw set in a tight line. “But Grandpère saved my life. He wasn’t always such a bastard.”
“Does that mean you owe him your undying loyalty?”
“It means I owe him something, to a point. Grandpère plucked me off the streets, he trained me in his business, he gave me all the skills I have today. Without him, I’d be dead or homeless. What did any of these people ever do for you?”
I let that sink in and glance around the room. There’s Cousin Jimmy—he gave me a My Little Pony doll for my fifth birthday. And there’s Uncle Jeremy—he taught me how to shoot darts. I have dozens of memories like that stretching back over my life, little moments at family parties, at breakfasts like this one, moments of humanity and normalcy, going back before the bad shit with Cormac and my dad got going in earnest.
“I grew up with these people,” I say, trying to make him understand.
“Then why don’t they come over and talk to you?” His gaze is dark and hard as he finally takes me in. “Why are they sitting over there pretending like we’re not here if you’re supposed to be their family?”
“I’m guessing you sitting there like a hungry wolf doesn’t help.”
He shakes his head, frustrated. “They’re only family when it’s convenient. And before you say anything, you’re right, I probably do need to look in the mirror before I start casting judgment on you.”
I don’t have the chance to reply. Ronan emerges from the back hallway and beckons for us to follow him back into his office. Julien goes first and the two men greet each other with some familiarity, and it’s strange how close to the center of power I’ve managed to drift. Back before I married Julien, I never would’ve been anywhere near a meeting like this; now I’m at the heart of it.
Ronan’s office is small but comfortable with earnest, family-centric decorations. Books line the shelves and pictures of various aunts and cousins are scattered around old leather-bound volumes. There’s a couch against one wall, two chairs, and a desk.
Ronan’s wife, Valentina, is sitting on the couch. She’s absolutely stunning: tan skin, dark hair, full lips, deep brown eyes, and a gorgeous figure. She’s in a creme blouse and dark slacks, and looks so incredibly chic that I feel plain and boring by comparison. She greets me and Julien as we enter, and I can tell she’s familiar with Julien already, though I’ve barely seen her from a distance and never spoken to her before. From what I hear, she’s deeply involved in the Group’s activities, and even something of a genius when it comes to planning illegal activities.
We get settled, Valentina on her couch, and Julien and I on the chairs.
“I heard about what happened,” Ronan says, looking at me. “I’m happy you’re okay.”
“Thanks to Julien. He saved our asses.”
Ronan grunts and leans back in his chair. “I’ve also been keeping tabs on Kim’s progress. Whatever she needs, you know the Group will provide it.”
“I have that handled,” Julien says quickly. I’m worried the two men might start dick measuring but instead Ronan just nods like he understands.
“This business with Dusan is already ugly,” Ronan says.
Julien grunts in reply. “That’s an understatement.”
“You killed his favorite cousin.”
“His favorite? Nobody told me about that.” Julien looks unhappy as he leans back in the chair. “Dusan crossed plenty of lines himself.”
“But you still started this damn conflict.” Ronan glares at Julien.
“Don’t blame him too much.” Valentina interrupts and seems to soften her husband’s anger. “From what I hear, there’s another power in the French world these days?”
“My Grandpère is visiting from Marseille. Technically, he’s the head of our organization.” Julien says this as simply as he can but I hear the emotion in his voice. There’s a deep note of frustration written all over him, and I’m surprised at how adept I’ve become at reading his moods.