He smirks. “Right now.” Shifting, he wraps his other hand around my hip. He’s all hard muscle, coiled together under his leather jacket and I sink into his warmth.
“First rule, Collins. I touch, kiss, andfuckwhat’s mine. And that’s you.”
The hand at my throat travels up to my hair, twisting to yank my head back. I gasp, mouth parting in shock and awe as I enjoy being manhandled. It’s only a mere second later as his lips descend on mine, consuming me.
It’s harsh, and biting, a near domination of lips and tongue I can barely follow. But I want to—I want to show him, he doesn’t scare me. I can handle this. I’ll keep our boundary intact and walk away when it’s done.
Whatever is between us turns primal. My knees tremble and my panties grow damp as our tongues swipe and lick. No one has ever kissed me with such passion before, never taken from me as if I’m their only chance of safety in rough waters.
It’s over too soon. He pulls away, rubbing my sore lip, exhaling. His eyes widen with awe and concern before they’re wiped clean and I’m left swaying. “A good start.”
13
HAYES
The white box sits on the desk, the red satin bow a blooming rose against the dead of winter.
It mocks us.
The sick present inside is from Bruno. He didn’t take too well to Maeve’s hold off on proposal talks and retaliated.
Problem is, when he attacks the O’Brien clan, he’s now attacking the De Luca family by way of the alliance they created earlier this year.
Alessio De Luca sits in the office chair beside me, a posh, controlled Italian man in a tailored Armani suit. His dark hair is expertly mussed and the glinting watch on his right gloved hand ticks the seconds away in the silence of the room. He screams power, but it’s nothing compared to Maeve’s wrath.
I can barely stand to look at the box. Inside is a pair of fuckingseveredhands. From a child.
My gut sours, but I don’t dare move. Everything in me wants to go to the Bruno compound and blow a hole through my brother’s tiny head but I can’t.
He knows me going to his territory is grounds for war. And we walk a fine line between being push overs and leveling the entire city.
Although, looking at Maeve’s fury, it’ll take an act of God to keep her from destroying Roman. Not that I care. But it’s dangerous for the clan—for Collins.
I understand her anger though. Roman didn’t kill any kid—he went after the last one she employed as a runner. Her father was known to use kids for his dirty work, but when she took over, she forbade anymore profiting off of kids. Ollie, though, was the last one.
She gave her protection to him. And Roman spat in her face. He didn’t just attack the clan, he disrespected Maeve’s leadership—her power.
“He’s scum,” Alessio says next to me, pulling his gloves higher. “Hurting a child? He’s asking for death.”
“Death’s too easy,” Maeve replies. Her eyes don’t leave the box.
“He certainly wanted your attention.” I try to catch her gaze. “Ollie was a weakness he knew to exploit.”
He was more than a simple weakness. But Roman never cared about kids.
Alessio curses in Italian and Maeve finally sits back, looking at Capo with narrowed eyes.
“You shouldn’t have brought Sloane.”
“She is my wife.” Alessio rolls his eyes. “That is my partner in the kitchen and she’s a lot stronger than you might think. She deserves to know what’s going on.” He adjusts his suit, always the picture of style. “What do you want to do about this?”
It’s a sore subject. Maeve married Sloane off to get her out of this family—away from the enemies who surround our life and this house. What Alessio thinks is disdain, is her worry for her sister’s safety and fear of bringing her back to this place.
That worry is nothing for the pit of terror and rage of Bruno coming for Collins. I have half a mind to hide her in a safe house in the Berkshires until either Maeve kills Roman or I do.
“We need a response,” I say, watching her leg bounce. She’s on edge and that usually means someone gets stabbed.
“I know,” she growls. “He thinks he can bully me into merging.”
