“Leave us.”
Darragh swallows. “Kian, there’s more—”
“I said. Leave. Us.” My father’s voice is lethal.
Darragh doesn’t need to be told a third time. He bows his head before heading back outside into the cold. I don’t blame him. It’s bound to be warmer out there than it is in this room.
“I understand that you knew about the redhead’s activities,” my father grits out. At least now I know who Darragh was texting.
“Her name is Taryn,” I say evenly. I’m careful with my tone. I know what my father is like when he gets this way. He is on the verge of cracking and nothing—not one damn thing—will get accomplished if that happens. I’ll end up with a fist in my face and nothing to show for it. I school my features so I’m expressionless.
“Taryn,” he repeats dully. “Taryn Kathleen Walsh. Daughter of Michael Walsh, second in New York’s clan. The woman who was supposed to unite us. The woman who has been sending money to our enemies. Yes, son, I know her name.”
I say nothing. Not yet. He’s not done.
“She’s been sending them money they have been using to steal our products and kidnap innocent women. I wonder”—his eyes sharpen on me—“do you think Taryn Walsh would be a fair trade for them to stop all of this? One woman so they quit taking the rest? She’s quite a looker. Nice pedigree. Would fetch a high price.”
My hand clenches into a fist. I grit my teeth and force air in my lungs. I meet my father’s eyes. He’s looking for a reaction.
“That’s what I thought,” he sneers at me. “You’ve gone soft over some pussy.”
“She is going to be my wife,” I say calmly. “Once you know the whole story, I’m sure you’ll agree she shouldn’t be spoken about that way.”
“Your wife?” my father roars as he stands. So much for keeping things calm. “She’s a moron who gave our enemies insight into Irish accounts.”
“She’s the woman who did what her man asked without question,” I say with a straight face. “She moved the money exactly where I told her to.”
My father shouts, “Feckin’ eejit,” as his tumbler detonates against the wall, spraying glass. Amber whiskey snakes down the white paint. “What the feck did you do, boyo?” The vein in his forehead is throbbing.
“I’ve been seeing Taryn for a while now,” I respond with restrained calm. “On and off for a year. Maybe a little longer.”
He sucks in a breath at this and paces away, listening to my lie.
“I had suggested to Rowan that she’d be a perfect bride at some point.” It’s always best to pepper some truth into a lie. While Iwasn’tseeing Taryn, Ihadsuggested the bride part to Rowan more than once, in fact, many times. I’d even mentioned her to my mother, noting there was a mob princess who had recently risen in the ranks. After all, she’s the only person my father actually listens to. Putting Taryn on Mom’s radar was a stroke of genius if you ask me.
I continue with my story. “Since I was told that we’d be getting married, I’ve often wondered if that’s why she was selected.” I have no doubt it was, despite my father thinking it was his idea.
“Get to the point,” Da growls.
“Because of our history, Taryn trusts me. I’m not sure she wants to get married at twenty-two, so while she may not be happy about the situation, sheknowsme. Knows I wouldn’t steer her wrong. I also know her. Know that she was saving money so she could have her own little fund for after college. Maybe get a nicer place or take some graduate courses. She’s interested in law.”
My father steps into my space. Grabs me by the collar. Lifts me out of my chair so I’m standing. “You have a lot of words, boyo. Tell me about themoney.”
“Whenever Taryn and I would break up, she’d see one of the Rutherfords,” I share. I’m into my lie now, spewing the story as if it’s all absolute fact.
“The fashion tycoon?”
“His son, yes, who happens to be best friends with Theo Nicopolis.”
My father’s eyes widen. “What did you do?” The words are low. A snarl.
“I wanted to find out more about the Greeks’ money. So, I asked Taryn to mention to Sam she needed help investing. Maybe to set up a fund to get away from me. An escape plan, just in case. She’s a beautiful woman. I knew Sam would help, if only to ensure he could one day have her again.”
My father paces away. Runs a hand through his hair.
“She didn’t like the idea, but I knew once Sam had access to her personal bank account, which doesn’t have a ton of money in it—not in our terms anyway—that he’d tell Theo. Then, once they opened that door, it was only a matter of time before we’d have access totheiraccounts. We do now, by the way.” Okay, we absolutely do not, but I am counting on my brother, Ryan, to fix that. No one is better at this than he is. Not even Bobby, my father’s hacker, who didn’t question stumbling upon the information that the Greeks fed to him.
“You did this on your own? Without orders? Without any thought to the fact that your own feckin’ Da ought to be told?” My father is seething. Pacing faster.
