“Oh, I see.” He hums and scrubs a hand over his chin. “You’re a virgin. You’ve never killed.”
I hate that he’s right. The most dangerous thing I’ve ever wielded is a kitchen knife.
He doesn’t need that information, though. “I’m not telling you a damn thing about me.”
“You don’t have to. I already know you, Cat. And I also know Nino’s denser than a fruitcake and that Eduardo might not live to sundown. Though that’d be a shame, because I kind of like?—”
“You keep their names out of your filthy liar’s mouth!” I shove him with more force, managing to knock him unsteady.
Connor stumbles back, his hands raised. “The point is neither of them are fit to lead. Eduardo’s weak, and Nino’s inept. But I think you’re the secret weapon.” He drifts closer again, gathering my wrists in his hands. “You need me, Caterina Ricci.”
I wrench my hands free, his touch branding me through my sleeves. “I need a man who lies to get women into bed?”
“Which part really pisses you off the most?” He cocks a brow. “That I lied, or that you enjoyed being in bed with me? Before last night, when’s the last time you even had a good fuck? You clearly needed it. If I hadn’t snuck out, we’d still be at it.”
The nerve of this man.
I grind my teeth while rage shakes my limbs. “Finish your meeting and get the hell out of my house.”
Connor crowds me, so I press my spine against the stain glassed window. A glittering mosaic of blues, yellows, and reds splashes his face.
“How about this?” His lips hover next to my ear, and his warm breath caresses my skin. “We don’t fuck. I just watch you pleasure yourself until you come. I won’t even go near you. I just want to see you break again.”
His nearness and criminally delicious woodsmoke scent distract me. This close, though, I can see the real him. See Connor Gallagher through the Dane Ryder facade. What a stupid name. It fits perfectly with the narcissism masquerading as charm. “You’ll never be close enough to watch me do anything but destroy you ever again.”
I shoulder past him.
His voice trails after me like a vine. “But if I were?”
This prick. A broken laugh tumbles from my lips. “Sure. If you ever catch me masturbating, feel free to watch.”
I march down the hall and round a bend. The asshole can find his own way back to the den.
Chapter 5
Connor
I find Finn in his father’s office at the Gallagher estate. I guess the space belongs to Finn now, given Shane’s death a few months ago, but the place still exudes that old-world aesthetic that reminds me of an older generation. I might as well be in Declan’s office. They’re practically identical.
Masculine and mature, and outfitted in rich, dark wood and brown leather, this room seems built for comfort. Though you’d never want to lower your guard in either office.
Rivals or not, Shane and Declan clearly used the same interior designer. Eerie. I almost feel at home.
The power of genetics, I guess.
Finn scowls when I remind him that an official alliance remains up in the air, though I get the sense that’s just his standard expression. A smile just wouldn’t look right with that scar across his cheek.
If he doesn’t like my methods, maybe he should’ve gone himself. “Like I told you earlier, Eduardo seemed pleased when I offered Sal Padovesi, and you never shared who the Gallaghers wanted in exchange. That’s your business.”
Finn paces to a window to watch the snowfall. “I’ll pick someone. Though I wish you’d secured a deal. I respectEduardo, but I’m worried that Nino will mess this up. With the Ricci boss weak, I imagine Nino’s got more sway.”
I hum, resting against the arm of a chair, and think back on Cat’s quiet, watchful gaze. “Not if Caterina has her way.”
He glances back at me, the scar pulling with his raised brows. “The daughter?”
“She sat in on the meeting. She was all but mute, but her father respects her. That was clear.” I recall how Cat kept tabs on the three of us, as well as the subtle glimpses she kept shooting her brother. “And Nino Ricci’s like a toddler without his Tonka truck. While he’s running some things, he’s not the one in charge.”
Finn sits back down behind his desk and steeples his fingers under his chin, his brown eyes pensive. “Is he a problem?”
