Anton
The next day, I pay Ronan a visit at his office across the street from the Marriott Marquis. The building has been in the Donovan family for generations, long before there were any other hotels on the block. It’s well-guarded and heavily surveilled, but as his guest, I’m given easy access.
“How’s Eileen doing?” I ask Ronan as I settle onto the guest sofa. His assistant has left us a fresh pot of coffee and an assortment of pastries on the table in front of us for the meeting.
He gives me a curious look. “I thought you’d be more interested in how Ciara’s doing.”
“She’s not the one who was taken away in an ambulance yesterday.”
“Eileen is fine.”
“Good; I’m glad to hear that.”
“Ciara isn’t happy about any of it, though.”
“I would imagine you’re having a hard time reconciling the sisters right now,” I reply with a bitter smile, but Ronan is anything but amused.
“You have no idea.”
“I’ve been around both Donovan ladies long enough to figure a few things out,” I say. “Ciara’s a spoiled brat.”
“You watch your tongue.”
“It’s the truth,” I chuckle dryly. “She’s also as sharp as a tack and more than capable of handling your businesses in the future. But I have to ask… Eileen’s your biological child. Your blood. Why isn’t she the principal heir?”
Ronan takes a deep breath before settling into the chair in front of me. He doesn’t look any better than the last time I saw him, truth be told. There’s an air of mortality looming over him.
“I wanted Eileen to take over, but she wants something else. She’s got this dream about a coffee shop that just drives me nuts,” he says.
“The café business, right. Premium, single origin only.”
“You know about that?”
Eileen hasn’t told me anything. She barely spoke to me whenever I visited Ciara. In fact, Eileen has made a specific effort to avoid me since the engagement party. I suppose it’ll be harder for her to stay away from me now, however, in light of the pregnancy.
“Ciara told me about it,” I lie with a smile. “I’m guessing you’re not okay with that?”
“I just want my daughters to be happy and healthy, Anton. But I also need one of them to carry on my legacy. Eileen is my first and my blood, yes, and nothing would please me more than to see her take over the Donovan business. Alas, she’s too kind and soft. She has different passions to pursue, though I’m not sure she’ll get to do much once she’s married to Kuznetsov.”
“Sergei likes his women at home, barefoot, pregnant, and preferably partial to cooking,” I reply. “Which is why I have a proposition for you.”
“What?” His eyes grow wide as he raises an eyebrow.
Good. I need him dazzled while I roll it out.
“I’m going to break off my engagement to Ciara, and I’m going to marry Eileen instead,” I tell Ronan. The words almost slip past him, but once he understands, his eyes damn near pop out of their orbits.
What follows is a deafening silence while I brace myself for his reaction. Ronan is known for his temper, and I’m not sure what to expect.
“I must be having a stroke, Anton, because I don’t think I heard you right,” he sounds eerily calm.
“You heard me right.”
“Why on God’s green earth would you even consider such a thing? Are you deliberately trying to start a war here?”
“No, on the contrary. I’m trying to avoid one,” I reply, then take a deep breath. “What I’m about to say will piss you off, no doubt. I’m bringing you one hell of a problem, but I’ve also got the solution.”
Ronan cocks his head to the side. “And what, pray tell, is the problem your so-called solution will resolve?”
“Eileen’s pregnant with my child.”
I can almost hear the vein snapping in his temple. He pulls in a sharp breath as the anger and outrage take over. I lean back in my seat, calm and composed.
“Before you explode, you need to hear the whole story. She had no idea who I was at the time,” I say, then tell him what happened that night, leaving the spicy details out. Ronan has no choice but to listen. He’s a smart man, and he’s been around the block. He understands the importance of our alliance. “I care deeply for Eileen. Otherwise, I’d resolve the situation in a manner that wouldn’t even involve you.”
“Oh, Anton, you slick son of a bitch,” Ronan scoffs, barely able to hold back. “I should kill you right here and now. No one would even bat an eye.”
“My brother and the entire Bratva surely would,” I reply. He’s not aware of the internal issues in our organization. Sergei wouldn’t try to bring him over to his side yet, not until he puts a ring on Eileen’s finger and seals the deal. This is the perfect opportunity for me to do this, as uncomfortable as it may be for Ronan. “I could still resolve things in a discreet manner, but I don’t want that. I want to marry your daughter. Just not the spoiled one.”
“Again, mind your fucking tongue.”
“Or what?” I snap. “She’s brash and unkind, especially to Eileen. She may have the wits to run your business, but she doesn’t know how to treat people, and that will get her killed one day.”
“You underestimate her.”
“Or maybe you overestimate her. Ciara still has a long way to go before she can take over for you, before she can command the respect of your people. You know it and I know it. Your enemies know it. Let me have Eileen’s hand in marriage. I’ll still be close enough to Ciara to make sure she doesn’t get eaten alive. This way, Eileen’s reputation remains untarnished, and Ciara can move on and find herself another man to marry, to have her perfect wedding day with.”
“You’re insane, Anton.”
“No, I’m just determined. If I want something, I take it. Plain and simple. And what I’m taking now will only bring you benefits. Once the initial discomfort wears off, that is.”
“Ciara won’t accept it,” Ronan shakes his head slowly.
I can’t help but laugh. “Remind me of who the head of the family is here.”
“You’re a prick, Anton.”
“Maybe so, but I’m the prick who will keep a prime seat at the table for the Donovans,” I say.
“What about Sergei? You’re taking his bride away.”
“I’ll handle the Kuznetsovs; don’t worry about them. Hell, I’ll do you another favor on top of all this. I’ll make sure Sergei knows you had no way of stopping me. If he asks, I’ll simply tell him that I know about your involvement in Belfast and that I threatened to expose you.”
The color drains from Ronan’s face. I was saving this for later, but I might as well close it up now and tie it with a nice, shiny bow.
“What about Belfast?” he asks.
“Belfast. Northern Ireland.”
“I know where fucking Belfast is!” he snaps. “What’s that got to do with—”
“Belfast, Northern Ireland, 2008,” I stop him before he tries to claim his innocence. “I know that was you. Not you, personally, but one of your proxies. I came upon a paper trail, one that I bet will cause the British government to extradite you once I send it over to their offices. Who’s in charge of the IRA situation over there? MI6? MI5? Or is it Scotland Yard?”
Ronan scoffs and stands up, pacing the room as he gathers his thoughts.
I’ve got him now.
The situation will make for some very uncomfortable family dinners in the future, but I’ll wash it down with an extra shot of whiskey. No problem. As long as I get what I want.
And what I want more than anything is Eileen Donovan.
“You’ll handle Kuznetsov, then,” Ronan finally concedes with a nod, his back to me. “I’ll deal with Ciara.”
“Smart man.”
“Fuck you, Anton. You just screwed us over in more ways than one.”
“In the long term, you’ll reap greater benefits from this adjusted alliance. You have my guarantee, Ronan. And my word is my bond.”
The fact that I get to ruin Sergei Kuznetsov’s day is a welcome bonus. He thought he’d weasel his way into the Donovans, just like he thought he’d weasel his way into my seat at the Bratva table.
Not while I’m still drawing breath.
If he aims for the king, he’d best not fucking miss.
“One more thing… if I were you, I’d worry less about Sergei and Ciara’s reaction and worry more about Eileen’s,” I add with a chuckle. “She’s not going to be happy about this at all.”
