The way Ciara lay before me, bare, her ass red with my mark as she was covered in me was breathtaking, anddefinitelysomething Callum shouldn’t be made aware of.
"So?" I lounge against the cold leather as I run a finger around the rim of my glass. "What’s this tantrum about?"
He stiffens. "This isn’t a tantrum."
“Could have fooled me.”
He’s dressed well, with his navy suit freshly pressed and his blond hair cropped short, though I recognize that suit from the dinner we had to finalize my marriage to Ciara.
He must really be falling on hard times, not that I give a fuck.
As if reading my thoughts, his jaw clenches so tight thatI’m amazed his teeth don’t shatter. But it’s all a performance. I can see it in his eyes that he’s starting to crack, and he’s hoping that I’ll be the one to pick up the pieces.
He straightens his shoulders. "I want to know what your plan is. How do you plan on repairing my family name, considering your investment in our alliance?”
I can’t help but bark a laugh. "The McCarthy name was rotting before I ever showed up,” I remind him. “The association you now have with the Sullivan name should be payment enough, considering the fact I’m giving your sister a better life than you could ever have offered her."
It’s a low blow, but I’m not here to play nice.
His expression darkens, and I fight the urge to smile as he glowers at me. He hates being reminded of his family’s fall from grace, but he can’t deny it’s the fucking truth. He was raised on nothing but nostalgia, of old stories of power and wealth, but those days are long gone. Right now, the only reason anyone can even say the name McCarthy without laughing is because of me, and he’d do well to remember that.
“You should be thanking me, Callum.” The underlying warning in my words makes his green eyes flash.
Good. He needs to feel that rage. He needs to let it fuel him, and then maybe he might finally be able to take the stick from up his ass and act like a man.
"You think this is funny?" he growls.
"I think it’s pathetic." I take a sip of my whiskey. "You don’t even realize how close your family came to being erased, and now you think you can questionme?"
He opens his mouth to speak, but I hold up a finger.
"You breathe because I allow it. You eat, sleep, and speak my name without consequence because Ichooseto let you. If you think me marrying your sister makes us equals, then you’ve got another thing coming. You work for me now, McCarthy, and I keep my men on a tight leash.”
Callum’s jaw ticks, his pride no doubt screaming at him. But ultimately, pride is what killed his old man, and if he doesn’t do as I say, he’ll end up in an early grave too.
"If you want to rebuild what’s left of your legacy, start by learning from your father’s mistakes."
"Watch your mouth." But his tone is anything but threatening.
I laugh louder this time, causing the heads of the drinkers in the adjacent booth to look over, but the second they catch me looking, they turn away again, fear in their eyes.
That’s the kind of respect Callum could only ever dream of.
"Your father died thinking he was untouchable and that alliances made him weak.” I ignore the rage in Callum’s eyes. “And he ended up with his brains leaking out the back of his skull, so I suggest you pay attention to that particular lesson.”
Callum is visibly shaking now. His knuckles have turned white as he grips his glass, seconds away from shattering it completely, as his shoulders vibrate with the effort of not launching himself at me.
Part of me wishes he’d draw a gun, if only to prove my point.
If you want to survive in this world, you can’t allow yourself to be fueled by emotion. A lesson that I’d also do well to remember as Ciara flashes through my mind.
But even Ciara has more spine than the so-called man sitting in front of me.
"You should think twice." Callum’s voice is barely above a whisper. "Before getting on my bad side."
I tilt my head and let the corners of my mouth lift into a smile. "You don’thavea bad side. You’ve got a sad little temper and a last name that means jack shit without me attached to it. So, no, I’m not worried about your bad side."
I toss back my drink, savoring the burn of the whiskey asit slides down my throat. Though, it’s nothing compared to the burning in my chest every time I think of Ciara. I wonder if she’s as plagued by thoughts of last night as I am…
