I walk down the hallway into the kitchen, and Kaden is already there. He stays with me most nights. He owns an apartment two floors below and a wooden cabin outside the city that he barely uses.
“Morning, boss.” He smirks, sipping his coffee.
“Morning.” I grab a cup and fill it to the brim. “Don’t, Kaden.” I warn him.
“Didn’t say anything.” His tone tells me everything; he’s enjoying this. Declan knows, and his brothers do too, but they don’t know how deep this little fucking obsession over the photographer runs. Kaden knows. He knows toomuch.
“We let them all in, then head to the office. I need to take care of some stuff.” I say it like a prayer, trying to persuade my dick that she is not to be touched.
“No problem, but I can keep an eye on them—” He puts his cup in the sink and turns with a grin. “On Miss Autumn.”
Motherfucker.
“Kaden.” It comes out low, laced with a threat. “Just let her do her job and we do ours.”
He nods and heads out. Before the club we’re having lunch with John Flanaghan to go through plans for the new warehouse.
Kaden drives us to the restaurant, and the waitress seats us at our table, always the same one, placed at the far wall facing the front and back doors. No one comes or goes without one of us seeing. Kaden stands until I sit. I fucking hate that, but he says it shows people who’s boss and who’s there to break bones. Fair enough.
“Brady.” John nods and we sit. His right-hand man is a young guy, around twenty-eight, keeps his mouth shut, avoids eye contact. I like him.
“John, Doyle.” We both exchange nods, and John sighs.
“I heard you took care of the problem.” He sips red wine while I wait for my Guinness. Kaden orders sparkling water, as always. He likes to pretend a soft drink makes him less lethal. It doesn’t.
“We did.” I grin, catching John’s eye over the glass.
“We?” The vein in his neck flares.
“Declan was there, his brothers too.” I lean back, a finger hovering over the glass. “Nothing happens without them, you know that.” I turn to Doyle. “Lesson one: the Callaghans run the Consortium. No one else.”
Doyle nods. John shifts, uncomfortable. He thinks Declan is still pissed about Viviana last year, but the truth is Declan did what he had to. Nolan was another story. Declan wanted to kick the hell out of him, but Nolan died before that,so—
“There’s a gathering tomorrow. You’re going, right?” John asks as the food arrives. The stew smells like the only thing worth the trip.
“What gathering?” I shrug, fork already swirling in the sauce.
“Shit, Flynn.” He shakes his head in mock disapproval. He’s only a few years older than Declan and me but acts like an old father. “The gala to raise money for the new school library.”
I look at Kaden. He raises an eyebrow. “Not going. I’ll send a cheque.”
“For fuck’s sake, mate, it’s at the old Keeffe mansion. Everyone’s going to be there. Declan can’t come, but at least you need to be there.” John leans back, arms crossed, trying to bully me into it.
“Not. Fucking. Going.” I let out a breath and start to eat.
The conversation drifts back to the gala, the usual posturing. I hate those things. A waste of time. The Callaghans aren’t going, so I know I should, but I’d rather drink bleach, honestly.
“That was a waste of time.” Kaden sighs as we get into the black SUV. My pulse kicks harder. I haven’t seen her since Declan went on his honeymoon. I thought I’d shaken her out of my system, but apparently not.
Kaden parks outside the club. At the door stands a tall, skinny man with two statuesque women.
“Good afternoon.” I shake his hand. “Flynn.”
“Mackellan.” He smiles, giving me a once-over. Relief slides through me. He’s more interested in me than in her. Good. One less body to make disappear.
“Mister Brady.” Her voice. Christ. It runs down my spine, rough and sweet at once.Mister.
“Autumn.” I face her as she steps in front of the models. Short, curvy, cheeks already pink. “You can call me Flynn, you know?” I grin. Her blush deepens, flooding her face crimson, and my cock jerks against the fabric of my trousers.
