She glances over her shoulder at me with that sweet sultry expression. The freckles dusting her cheeks soften her sharp jawline, smoothing the edges of her business-only smile. If not for the steel in those chocolate brown eyes, I might be fooled into believing this job would prove much easier than predicted.
We know so little about the Port Kings. My research indicates that these LA Gallaghers operate more in the shadows than their East Coast counterparts. It’s public record that Declan Gallagher purchased the Cypress, but he keeps his run-ins with authorities minimal. The general population doesn’tseem to connect him with organized crime the same way New Yorkers do—or did—with Shane. Even though they’re an offshoot of the same family.
Decades ago, his and Shane’s grandfathers—brothers—fell out with each other. Declan’s grandfather, Nevan Gallagher, a known hothead, allegedly shot the heir to a powerful Italian crime family during a negotiation. To avoid a full-blown war, Shane’s grandfather, Aidan, agreed to pay the Italians an enormous sum of money, cut all ties to Nevan, and exile him from the city.
I guess Declan spent his entire life nursing a grudge.
Declan is shrewd. Careful. I expected the same from his daughter.
And both of those traits do fit Maeve. But they also don’t.
Unless she missed her calling in Hollywood, Maeve lacks the jaded aura I anticipated. Even Riley’s and Harper’s eyes show more shadows, which I partially attribute to growing up with an alcoholic mother and Thomas as a father.
Maeve acts shockingly normal for an LA native, let alone the daughter of a major crime boss. She’s not as strong as Declan’s daughter should be.
I hate that she doesn’t compute. In my line of work, surprises can end up costing us more than we’re willing to pay. Both in terms of money…and lives.
The Cypress is clearly her passion. I observed no obvious signs of shady family dealings during our short tour, and she struck me as a regular business owner, determined to cut a deal with an investor. She struts in those heels like she was born in them, dripping confidence and poise, while also exuding a faint air of vulnerability.
The woman blushed like a schoolgirl when I complimented her taste in decor. She gasped when I crowded her personal space in the hall.
I make her nervous, at least physically. And she couldn’t conceal her reactions.
Or she’s choosing not to, possibly even playing them up.
I rub my knuckles over my jaw. Maybe this really is all an act designed to reel me in.
She could be impersonating a vulnerable, flustered woman to lower my guard and garner herself a better deal.
A pity such tactics won’t work on me in the long run. If she’s trying to manipulate me, she’s in for a rude awakening. I’m no stranger to mind games, and I’ll happily turn the tables on her.
Regardless, I won’t let my uncle’s betrayal continue to stain my reputation or family name.
I’ll exploit every weakness I can find to get what I need. Including the one Maeve and her assistant revealed during their exchange after I entered the lobby.
The acoustics in that place are impressive. Plus, I’ve always had a knack for lipreading.
I swallow a chuckle. If Maeve had any idea I overheard Lenora razzing her about drool and cobwebs, I bet she’d faint from embarrassment.
“Here we are.” Maeve twirls back around to face me, blissfully unaware of the trajectory of my thoughts. “Your suite.”
She hands me an electronic key card folder and shuffles aside so I can enter.
My suitcase sits in the foyer near the door as I inspect the accommodations. Plush blue carpeting, an elegant living area with a gray sofa and glass coffee table, original watercolor paintings of the shoreline and city, and sweeping, floor-to-ceiling views of Santa Monica, with the Pacific stretching into the distance.
Classy without being pretentious. Kind of like the owner. But I’m not actually here to review the amenities.
Maeve watches closely for my response, a flicker of anxious energy sparking in her eyes. “Everything to your liking, Mr. Jameson?”
“It’s perfect. But please, call me Kellin.”
Her shoulders drop a centimeter, though she doesn’t relax completely.
Smart. Maeve knows to keep her guard up.
Too bad that won’t be enough.
“Okay, Kellin. And please call me Maeve.” She gestures to the hall. “I’ll leave you to settle in.”
