Page 10 of Sinful Bride

DECLAN

The meeting is set for noon at a restaurant that's neutral territory and public enough to discourage bloodshed. Cormac drives, his jaw tight as he navigates through downtown traffic. He hasn't said much since last night. None of my men have. They're waiting to see what I'll do.

Waiting to see if Lachlan made a mistake.

The thought sits heavy in my gut as I adjust my tie in the rearview mirror. I'm wearing one of my expensive suits again, the armor I need for meetings like this. My tattoos are hidden beneath the crisp white shirt, my copper hair combed back, though the stubble is already showing on my jaw again. The suit feels strange across my shoulders, and although I look as good as I can, I feel like a fraud.

"You want me to come in with you?" Cormac asks as he pulls up to the curb.

"No." I check my watch. "Stay close with the others. If I'm not out in an hour, assume it went badly."

His expression darkens. "Boss⁠—"

"I'll be fine." I force confidence into my voice that I don't entirely feel. "Enzo Capetti isn't going to kill me in the middle of a restaurant. Bad for business."

Cormac doesn't look convinced, but he nods. I step out of the car into the chilly air and head inside.

The hostess recognizes me immediately—or rather, she recognizes what I am. Her smile is professional but wary as she leads me through the dining room to a private section in the back. The restaurant is half-empty at this hour, the lunch crowd not yet arrived, and our footsteps echo on the marble floors.

Enzo is already seated when I arrive with a glass of red wine in front of him, his posture relaxed and confident. Two men stand behind him—silent, watchful bodyguards. He doesn't stand when I approach or offer his hand.

The insult is deliberate.

"Mr. Murphy." His voice is smooth, with just a hint of an Italian accent. No different from how it was at the party, despite the change in circumstances. "Thank you for joining me."

"Mr. Capetti." I take the seat across from him. "Thank you for agreeing to meet."

A waiter appears immediately, pouring water into my glass and offering a wine list. I wave it away. I need to stay sharp for this. Enzo watches me, a slight smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

"You wanted to discuss last night's... unfortunate incident," he says, swirling the wine in his glass.

Unfortunate incident. Like it was a fucking accident. Like two of my men didn't burn to death in a warehouse he ordered destroyed.

I force myself to keep my expression neutral, even though I want to shoot this man where he sits. No… better, I want to strangle him with my bare hands. Light him on fire so he can scream the way my men did. "Your man confessed. We have proof—text messages with coordinates and timing. The attack was orchestrated by your family."

"Alleged attack," Enzo corrects smoothly. "And even if such an attack occurred, I'm sure you understand that in our world, these things happen. Territories overlap. Misunderstandings arise. Surely a man of your... experience understands this."

The pause before experience is a calculated reminder that I'm new to this. That I don't actually have any experience running a mafia organization.

"Two of my men are dead," I say, my voice low. "That's not a misunderstanding."

"Two soldiers," Enzo says, taking a sip of his wine. "In a business where soldiers die. You're upset, I understand. But let's not pretend this is anything other than the cost of doing business in my world."

My world. Like I'm a guest in it. Like I don't have a right to be here.

My hands clench under the table, but I force them to relax. Getting angry won't help. Showing weakness won't help. I need to be smart about this. Strategic. I was furious last night when I called, more so than I should have been. I reacted like the president of a motorcycle club, not the boss of a major criminal organization.

"What you did could start a war between us," I say carefully. "I'd like to prevent one."

My men won't be pleased with that, especially not after what I said last night. But I lay in bed after I got home and tallied up the cost. Lachlan left me with resources, money, connections, and a good number of men following me as well as allies to call on, but the Capettis have more. Not to mention other organizations that might take the uproar as a reason to test boundaries further and try to involve themselves for their own interests.

A war means more blood, and a lot of it. I don't want that, no matter how angry I am or how much I want vengeance. But I also refuse to let the Capettis walk all over me.

Enzo's eyebrows rise slightly. "Prevent one? Mr. Murphy, you demanded this meeting. You threatened me on the phone. And now you want to talk about prevention?"

"I want to talk about peace." The word feels strange in my mouth, but I push forward. "I want to talk about how we can coexist without more bloodshed. Without more dead men on both sides."

"Both sides?" Enzo leans back in his chair, studying me. "You think you're in a position to threaten my organization? You, who took over the Irish mob from Lachlan Gallagher under... questionable circumstances?"