Liam's POV
“Someone is just a tad bit presumptuous.” Declan snickered into phone.
“She’s already packed, Liam.”
And sure enough, when my car pulled up to the Italian-styled mansion, I watched as some of Giovanni’s men placed suitcases, what I figured were Melody’s things, into a white suburban near the far side of the house. When they noticed us, they finished as fast they could and disappeared behind the tree sculptures that lined the back. They were all the size of Neal and I couldn’t help wonder how they would fit in with our people. This would be the biggest merger the mafia world had ever seen. The Irish and the Italian were like the English and the French—we had been fighting for generations.
“She is just like the rest of them,” I said into the Bluetooth. “In love with Daddy’s credit card. But from the looks of it, she is no worse than Coraline.”
“Or your mother,” Declan said as the cars came to a stop. He couldn’t deny his wife was a savage when it came to spending money. She held onto her plastic card with the Jaws of Life, and Declan, being the whipped bastard he was, couldn’t bring himself to stop her. It would have been great if she actually spent the money on herself or the family, but no, she had to sprinkle it throughout the whole city, drawing unneeded attention at times.
Neal’s wife, Olivia, was the complete opposite. She would walk right past a starving child and buy herself another pair of shoes. I, just like the rest of them, would have to allow Melody to shop herself crazy as long as I got what I needed.
Hanging up, I tried to resist the urge to grin like a fool. Just from getting out of my Audi, I could feel the tides turn in my favor.
“Liam,” my father said, stepping in line beside me. “You take the lead on this. I’ll not interfere with whatever happens from this moment on. If you do this, you will have successfully cleared all obstacles in our way, and I will allow you to take my place as Ceann na Conairte. However, until that contract is signed, they are still the enemy. Should you fail, seek comfort in your mother, for you won’t find any in me.”
I wouldn’t fucking think of it, I thought bitterly. Outwardly, I nodded and put my business face on.
Declan and Neal mimicked my expression. We had talked about the different scenarios this could come down to and were prepared for them all.
Neal had four of his snipers outside, and Declan had jammed all frequencies that were not our own. We also had a car positioned less than a block away with men just waiting for the chance to clip the Giovannis’ wings. They were the enemy until the contract declared otherwise. I was more than ready to get the papers signed and continue my blood ascension to Ceann na Conairte.
“Incoming,” Neal declared from my left, just as the doors to the mansion opened, revealing an older, jaded-looking man with a scar that ran from his forehead to his chin.
“Welcome, Callahans, to the Giovanni Villa. Mr. Giovanni is already waiting and told me to skip the formalities for the time being. I shall escort you to his office.” The older man bowed as though he had come out of Downton fucking Abbey. I knew Declan would have a laugh about that later, but for now, we were working.
I nodded, not wanting to waste time with formalities either. We all knew why we were here, and there was no need to bullshit. Usually, my father walked ahead of us, but since I was point man today, I followed the old man inside first. The house was beautiful, rich, and very fucking Italian with vintage ceramic tiles, one too many statues, and the overwhelming scent of roses. It felt more like a museum to ancient Rome than a home.
Finally, the old man stopped and didn’t bother to knock before opening a door for us. Stepping in, for the first time in my twenty-seven years I was shocked. It didn’t show on my face, but internally, I was shocked.
“If it isn’t my favorite Irish crime family,” Orlando said, coughing and in a wheelchair. The man known as “Iron Hands” was gone. The Giovanni study was filled with ancient scrolls, floor-to-ceiling walls of books, with the exception of one large window, and nineteenth-century handcrafted furniture. However, nothing in here was more priceless than the sight of this old crippled man.
His hairless face broke out into a smirk. “Sedric, you trained them well.
They didn’t even flinch.”
“I am insulted you are just figuring this out now,” my father said and with just a sidelong glance I could tell what he was thinking. He was as shocked as we were. He just hid it well.
In the mafia world, Orlando “Iron Hands” Giovanni was the stuff of legends. The things he had done could not be said out loud without making many people sick, or causing them to piss themselves in fear. He was one of the very few men my father respected, and in some way, dreaded. They both had a healthy fear of each other, but the man in front of me now looked like he hadn’t been in the same room with “Iron Hands” for years.
This explained why he wanted this merger finalized, I thought.
“Please, have a seat. The contract is on the desk,” he said to us.
I knew my family wouldn’t make a move. Only the Ceann na Conairte was able to sit down with the enemy, so I unbuttoned my jacket as the rest of them flanked the sides of my chair.
“We’ve already read the contract. We simply wish to see your daughter sign it,” I told him. In fact, I had read it so many damn times, I knew it line by fucking line.
“Read it again, she has already signed,” he said through a barking cough.
Tempted to lose my cool, I glared at Declan, telling him with my eyes to read it. He could read just as fast as I could, and I did not want Orlando see me bend to his games. I would play nice for now, but I was not above beating a man in a wheelchair.
“Liam,” Declan snapped, handing me back the paper.
It took me a moment to read over the two lines that had been changed.
“You’re kidding.” I snickered, handing it up to Neal and my father. “You are asking that she basically babysit how I run my company?”
Orlando’s brown eyes narrowed. The fact that he no longer had eyebrows only made him look more ill.
“We prefer the term empire,” he stated.
“Of course you do.” Fucking Italians and their empires. “Orlando—and I will call you Orlando, not out of disrespect, but because I know that by the end of tonight I will have a ring on your daughter’s finger—your daughter will want for nothing. She will be able to buy the sun twice over if she wanted. She will be taken care of and treated like every other Callahan woman, which is like bloody royalty. In my care, your empire will be treated with the same care and reverence.”
Orlando leered before crossing his weak arms. “Pretty words, boy. And I will call you boy because even if you were royalty, you would still never be good enough for my daughter. I did not ask her to babysit you. Melody is smart and will be more than useful. I have no doubt that the empire will be just fine. As your brother saw when he hacked our records.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Declan stiffen beside me. No one ever knew he hacked into their files. It was then that I realized we had been set up. Orlando wanted us to see how much we would lose if we didn’t give in.
“Orlando—” “Don’t try to sweet-talk me. I’m Italian, we wrote the book on it. So take the deal or walk away. That’s my only offer. And in case you hadn’t noticed, I don’t have time to waste.”
The old motherfucker cut me off.