Callum shrugs, not rising to the bait. His dark slacks and pale blue shirt, for once, are ironed, and his hair is neatly styled. But his clean-cut appearance isn’t enough to hide the haunted look in his eyes.
“She’s got character.” He stuffs his hands into his pockets as he glances between Kieran and me.
“She’s got black mold,” Kieran mutters beside me, and I have to cough to disguise my laughter.
Callum’s eyes darken. “Not everyone can have a palace on the hill.”
Some of us built our palaces from fire and blood and made damn sure it didn’t fall into ruin, but I don’t say that thought out loud. Instead, I look around again, taking in the water stains on the ceiling and the peeling wallpaper.
This place, this family, is already dying, but Callum is just too proud to admit it.
My eyes land on him again. “Are you going to offer us a drink or what?”
Callum scowls but leads us down the hall, and Kieran and I follow silently behind him until we reach the lounge.
A faded floral wallpaper clings desperately to the plaster, and the heavy velvet curtains are half-drawn, allowing pale daylight to filter through the window, casting long shadows across the room. The fireplace dominates one wall, its once-polished marble surround now cracked and chipped, and the hearth blackened with old soot that hasn’t been cleaned in ages. The floorboards creak beneath my feet as I walk over to the couch, the smell of cigarette smoke and stale whiskey clinging to the air.
Kieran and I are silent as Callum goes over to the lackluster drinks cabinet and pours each of us a drink.
I shoot Kieran a look over my shoulder, silently reminding him to behave, and he rolls his eyes.
When we’ve each been handed our drinks, Callum takes a seat in one of the armchairs opposite me, but Kieran remains standing with his arms folded across his chest, as if he can’t bear to even touch anything in this room.
To be honest, I don’t blame him.
I brace my hands on my knees. “Let’s get to it. You want a place at the table, and we want peace. So, I’m offering you both.”
Callum raises an eyebrow as he looks at Kieran and then back at me. “Peace, huh?”
“No more games. You let go of whatever fantasy you’re still clinging to about destroying my family and my marriage, and I give you something real in return.”
“You want me to work for you?”
I shrug. “Essentially, yes. You’ll answer to me, but you’ll eat like the rest of us.”
Callum swirls the liquor around in his glass. “And you think this marriage means our families are fused forever?”
“That’s what family means. Like it or not.”
He chuckles, the sound low and laced with bitterness. “It’s cute, this idea that you and my sister are forever.”
And there it is. The insult is thinly veiled, but it’s there, nonetheless.
I lean forward slowly, setting my glass down on the table before clasping my hands together. “I don’t give a shit what you think is cute. If you’re not interested in a truce, then we’re done here.”
I go to stand up when Callum holds up a hand.
“All right. I’m in. Just… tell me what you want me to do.”
I pause. “Just like that?”
“I might be many things, Sullivan, but I’m not stupid. A man knows when to make peace.”
Bullshit.
Callum knows when he’s out of options. His empire is nothing but cracked drywall and debt, and he needs us more than he cares to admit. But I’ll let him have his moment.
“Good choice. Kieran will be in touch with your orders.”
