Page 13 of Dirty Legacy

“Nobody.” I cover my discomfort by drinking. It’s my usual tactic.

“That’s good. Makes this easier.” He leans forward, elbows on his knees, eyes on the window behind his desk. “Look, Connor, you know how our families operate. The clans are still obstinately old school. We’re modernizing, but slowly, and only when it comes to actual business. Everything else is still handshakes, blood bonds, and marriages.”

A chill runs down my spine. “I’ve kept out of clan politics for a while now.”

“That’s smart. You’ve grown a lot. We’re all proud of what you’ve made of the Maguire clan.”

“Thanks. That means a lot.”

He nods, but he’s not smiling. “But it’s why I have to ask this of you. Connor, you’ve gotten big enough that the other families have noticed.”

“Not sure what you’re even asking here.”

“There are some alliances in our world that need blood. Not a death, but a life, or at least the promise of one. Vows and oaths are a good start. But family is bigger than words.”

I tighten my grip on the glass. The single large cube clatters against the sides. “Come out and say it.”

Declan sits back. His spine straightens and he meets my gaze. This is the boss of the Whelan clan, one of the most powerful individuals in the eastern United States. Most of New York City is his playground, and most of the other crime outfits pay him homage.

“I’m creating an alliance between my organization and the Gallagher family, and I need you to cement it.”

I open my mouth in surprise. The Gallagher family is one of the oldest Irish crime clans left. They’re independent and have never shown any interest in becoming a vassal of the Whelans or anyone else. There’s still money and power wrapped up in their name.

“The Gallaghers? Really? How did you manage that?”

He gives me a wry smile. “Years of conversations. Months of hard negotiations. And a marriage proposal.”

I grin back, sipping my drink. “Marriage? Seriously? You already giving away your kids?”

“Not my kids, Connor. Like I said, I need you to cement it.”

I push my chair back as it hits me. He doesn’t move, his face showing nothing, as the words penetrate. I stand, shaking my head, and take a step back, my blood running into sludge in my veins. “You’re not being serious.”

“Her name is Sinead. She’s twenty-nine, beautiful, and very intelligent. Well-educated, connected to just about everyone, and already said she’s willing, God knows what her father said to convince her. She’ll make a good wife, Connor. Marrying Sinead Gallagher will guarantee my alliance with her family, and it’ll give your operation the biggest boost imaginable. With her by your side and her family’s influence behind you, the Maguires will grow exponentially. We’ll all profit from this.”

Fuck.

Oh, fuck.

He’s asking me to marry a woman I’ve never met. It’s a political arranged fucking thing, and it’s a Gallagher. That means access in ways I can’t begin to dream about. It means growth, investments, political favors⁠—

It means never, ever touching Angie ever again.

Shit. Fuck. Even now, in this moment, she slips back into my head. Angie shouldn’t have anything to do with this decision—and it’s not even a decision, more like an inevitability—but a part of me rebels against this nightmare anyway.

Who the fuck is Declan to pick my wife? Who the fuck is anyone to tell me who I marry and who I don’t?

Angie’s face flashes through my mind, the taste of her, the feeling of my dick slipping inside of her, the moans, the gasps⁠—

I’ll never have it again.

“I know it’s a lot,” Declan says, getting up to refill his glass. He brings the bottle over and tops me up. “I know you’re stunned. You’re probably trying to find an excuse to say no. But listen to me, Connor. You have to do this. Not just for me, but for yourself and your family. I know how hard an arrangement like this can be. You still can’t turn it down.”

He’s right.

Damn him, he’s right.

This Sinead Gallagher will change my life. She’ll bring new strength to my people, and that’s what a boss does in the end. That’s my obligation.