I nearly choke, drips of coffee spurting onto my black slacks.
Dane offers his hand to my father. “Mr. Ricci, I’m Connor Gallagher. Thank you for seeing me on such short notice. Finn sends his apologies. Personal matters.”
His lips twitch as he quirks a brow at me.
A message.Nice to see you again.
This prick.
Rage hotter than the coffee currently burning my thighs floods through me. Who the hell does he think he is? What’s he even doing here?
He’sConnor Gallagher? An Irish King, in name if not in practice?
Son of abitch.
I force a breath in through my nose and tuck the blinding anger deep down into my stomach.
I can’t let my father—or Nino—realize anything is wrong.
I’ll have to save my fury for the next time I catch this jackass alone.
My father takes Dane’s—Connor’s—hand in both of his. “Call me Eduardo. No need for formalities. This is my son, Nino.”
Connor turns and offers Nino his hand. “A pleasure.”
Nino stares, the tattoo of our family crest around his ear stretching when he cocks his head. The whole Ricci family tree is skeptical of this Connor Gallagher character.
As they should be! He’s a big fat liar, and he sucks!
After a tense moment, Nino rises and shakes hands with the asshole. “Salve.”
My father waves his hand over his shoulder. “And that’s my daughter, Caterina. She’ll just be sitting in.” Code forno talking.
Works for me. At the moment, I doubt I could manage much beyond a curse on Connor Gallagher’s entire bloodline.
Connor nods, avoiding direct eye contact—and a handshake that would not end well for him, because I would break his damn fingers—as he sits beside my father.
The coffee roils in my stomach, scalding me from the inside out. I’m not sure whether to blame that on nausea or indignation or both. I want to slap Dane-Connor’s gorgeous face straight off his skull.
Or maybe I should slap myself.
The prickly vines of shame twist through me. How could I be so foolish?
I ought to march over and kick him in the balls. Reveal what we did last night so Nino can shoot him in the head. If this truce wasn’t so important, I would.
Why the hell would he do this? What kind of sociopath sleeps with the enemy on purpose?
Connor Gallagher’s a snake. A monster. A rotten bastard I hope to never meet again.
I blot my slacks with a napkin to give myself an excuse to avert my gaze, my fingers trembling against my thighs.
Then I force myself to look up. I won’t let him win, and I need to pay attention to this meeting.
Connor, the epitome of professional businessman, crosses his legs and concentrates solely on my father. “I’ll get straight to the point. The Russians have been doing their best to put a dent in the Los Angeles Gallaghers.”
Father clears his throat and sips his tea. “From what I hear, your brother Brody recently took down two dozen of their soldiers as some sort of favor to Finn. Surprising, given the rift between the East and West Coasts. But you had to expect some kind of retaliation from the Russians.”
I stifle a shiver at Connor’s icy smile. “The Russians attacked us first. We had no qualms with them before they came after us in LA. Brody was merely finishing what they started.” He shrugs. “But this alliance between Declan and Finn, while new for all of us, will only bolster both Gallagher branches.”
