She must’ve rubbed her hands together with glee at the thought that she’d be envied by every female with a pulse in the echelon of crime.
What better prize for someone as hungry for attention as she was?
And to be fair, she always liked complicated men. And Callum O’Hara was the poster boy for complicated men.
He started this kind of life as a teenager, quickly gained a reputation, and never stopped accumulating power, which made people hate him and also fear him.
That fear had fueled so many animosities, and so many people were invested in seeing him fall, that when it happened, he almost lost it all.
Props to my gramps for saving his ass.
My mother barely withheld a smile when the men returned from the special room that day, and Giorgio’s gaze glinted with satisfaction.
Not only was he the artisan of Callum’s comeback, but he could have O’Hara indebted to him for the rest of his life.
I may have only been eighteen when O’Hara entered our place, but I was a good observer of human nature even then.
Giorgio had a lot to gain, too, as is usually the case when these marriages are negotiated beforehand.
The new alliance made his influence bloom, it solidified his legacy, and helped his men conduct business in a larger territory, thanks to his son-in-law.
It’s always been about that, in fact.
Callum looked all right when he sat at the table, not overly excited, and certainly not nervous.
He and my mother had met before, in different circumstances, I suspect. She must’ve been married at the time.
One of the things my mother hated about her life was that no matter how willing she was to have extramarital affairs, not many men were dumb enough to risk their lives to have her legs wrapped around their waist.
So whatever thing she had for Callum, she had to keep it for herself.
Well, things were working in her favor that lucky night.
She played coy the entire evening. Didn't speak much and wasn't exaggeratedly friendly or flirtatious with him, or anyone else.
For the most part, the man didn’t pay attention to her.
He was all business, and his focus was mainly on my grandfather.
There was one other thing I learned that evening, too.
I was mortally wounded.
Callum O’Hara was everything I thought a real man would be.
He was in control and had things in his eyes that spoke of darkness and lust, while I was at a point in my life where I wasalready experiencing sexual arousal even without someone like him tossing a glance in my direction.
His carved shoulders, chiseled biceps, and bumpy pecs stretched his white dress shirt as his fingers stayed steepled together, and his elbows remained propped on the table for most of the time he spent in our house.
He already looked like the man of the house despite my grandfather sitting at the head of the table.
And for a second there, I wondered whether Giorgio had any idea what he’d gotten himself into.
Sinuous tattoos curled around Callum’s forearms while a diamond and black onyx signet ring, adorned with an encrusted dagger, graced his finger.
I had the privilege of studying him from across the table as he had his eyes on Giorgio and never dragged his gaze over the bloomed lilies overflowing from a vase in front of me so that he could notice me.
My mother was so excited about the development that she couldn’t even spare a glance in my direction, so she didn’t notice how fascinated I was with him.
