The Wedding Pact (The O'Malleys #2) (17 page)

Dmitri caught her look. “If you’re uncomfortable, we can go somewhere else.”

Damn it, she was so flustered, she wasn’t bothering to mask her expressions. Carrigan took a careful breath and smiled. “No, this is fine. It’s just unexpected.” And strangely thoughtful, though she was still more inclined to look at it through the potentially violent lens than the romantic one.

“Shall we sit?” He motioned to a table set back from the windows, where no one from the street would have a clear view of them.

With a nod, she moved to the table and took a chair that put her back to the wall. Maybe this Dmitri wasn’t a threat to
her
, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t dangerous. She already knew he was. The problem was that people tended to present the best versions of themselves when they first met strangers. It was up to her to dig through the bullshit to the meat beneath, and she couldn’t do that until she got the conversation rolling. “So, Dmitri, tell me about yourself.”

He sank into the chair across from her with an effortless grace she envied. “First-date questions, Carrigan?”

Ignoring the heat of embarrassment rising up her neck, she lifted her chin. “Do you have a better idea? I’m on a compressed timeline, which I’m sure you’re aware of. I have to start somewhere.”

“Then why don’t we start with why I’m on this list of your father’s?” He looked completely relaxed, as long as she ignored the eyes. Those eyes watched her like she was a deer and he was a wolf, just waiting for her to twitch in the wrong direction before he pounced. “I run a very prominent empire in New York. You father wisely sees the value of allies outside Boston.”

New York
.

Which most likely meant she’d be required to move down there, because he certainly wasn’t going to relocate up here. Her lungs turned to lead, and she gripped the edge of her chair as she fought lightheadedness. Somehow, even in the middle of all this, she’d never once considered that she might have to leave Boston. “I see.” There were days when she wanted to burn the city to the ground around her, but it was
home
.

A waitress appeared next to their table, giving Carrigan a much-needed breather, and set down two glasses of water. She poured them each a glass of red wine, and then left as silently as she’d come.

This
Carrigan could focus on. “High-handed of you.” Why did every rich man in the world think that drinking wine was required? At least he’d ordered red instead of white—a tiny silver lining.

“I like to go into business meetings having the upper hand.” His smile was more shark than sheepish. “Forgive me, but I did a bit of research.”

If he’d done as much research as he claimed, he’d know she preferred dirty martinis to wine any day of the week.
James
had figured that out all on his own.
Thinking about him right now is a mistake. Focus on the man across from you
. She took a cautious sip of the wine and nearly melted into her seat. It was light and a little fruity and hands down the best wine she’d ever had. “This isn’t half-bad.” Since he seemed to want to cut to the chase, she might as well play. “You’ll be expecting me to move to your home and play the little wife in between popping out half a dozen children.”

“Setting aside the small talk. Good.” This time his smile was almost real, though it still didn’t reach his eyes. “To answer your question—I’m willing to negotiate. I have no interest in a little wife, as you so eloquently put it. Especially an unwilling one.”

Pretty words, but she trusted this man as far as she could throw him. “So what is it you
do
want?”

“A part-time partner. I have no need of someone to help me run my various business ventures, but there are times when having a wife on my arm would make or break a deal. It also creates stability, because my people see me as settling down and providing heirs that will prevent a civil war. Stability, Carrigan, is key. So, yes, I will need children, though half a dozen seems excessive—no offense to your parents, of course.”

“Of course.” She took another sip of wine through numb lips. “You say a part-time partner. Should I take up knitting when you don’t need to dust me off, prop me up, and have me entertain guests?”

He shot her a look. “Hardly. I see no reason why you can’t spend a good portion of the time here in Boston—as long as you agree to the appropriate protection. I simply ask that you do nothing to bring negative attention. And that you stay faithful.”

It was so strange to have it all laid out there in bald terms. Part of her wanted to scream at him for making her feel so…What? If he’d given her romance, she would have called him a liar. All he’d done was tear away the thin curtain between her and reality. She’d known what these men expected of her. Dmitri was simply clearing the air. She sat back. “Do you conduct all your negotiations like this?”

“Only when the situation calls for it. You’re a smart woman, and I thought you’d appreciate it if I was frank with you.” He frowned, the first time his perfect mask had so much as cracked. “Was I wrong? Would you prefer flowers and romance and pretty words?”

“No, thank you.” She could almost feel the room solidifying around her as she found her feet again. He’d caught her off guard, but she found she actually preferred this to the lies people tended to tell when they first met each other.

James hasn’t lied to you
.

Shut up
.

James wasn’t her future. It didn’t matter how he made her feel or that she said things to him she never would have said to anyone else. She couldn’t hold him up in comparison to every man on her father’s list. They’d all end up wanting. Dmitri was nothing like him. He was dark where James was light, polished where James was rough, a shark to James’s junkyard dog.

Maybe all the differences were a good thing.

She set her wineglass down. “Two children, and I’m in Boston at least six months of the year.”

“I’ll agree to the two children. I can’t promise specific timelines as I don’t know when I’ll need you.” He paused and smiled at the waitress who now brought their food. Rueben for him, and a chicken Caesar wrap for her. Her favorite.

“This one you got right.” She snagged a fry and took a bite. Perfection.

“Research allows me to surpass a lot of the unnecessary bits.” He pushed his plate to the side. “As I was saying, initially you’ll need to be in New York more. I have to establish your place in my home for both allies and enemies. The first year, possibly more, will require the majority of your time to be spent with me.”

She didn’t like the idea of it, but it was fair—fairer than any other deal she was likely to get. That didn’t mean she had to drop everything and jump on it. “I’ll let you know.”

Dmitri smiled his shark’s smile. “I wouldn’t expect anything else.”

He had her and he knew it. Unless her date tonight went spectacularly—or the one she had yet to set up with Charles Pope—she wasn’t likely to get a better offer. Carrigan rose. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Romanov.”

“I look forward to seeing you again, Carrigan.”

She turned and walked away, feeling his gaze on the back of her neck the whole while.

*  *  *

An hour in the gym later, and James couldn’t get the feeling of blood off his hands. He stood beneath the scalding spray of the shower and scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed. It didn’t help. Rationally, he knew nothing would help. The problem was mental—not physical. He looked at his hands, red and raw from the repeated washings. “Damn it.”

He turned off the shower and dried off. In the past, whenever he got too close to the edge, he’d locked himself in the room with his mother’s photo album and anchored himself by remembering happier days. That option wasn’t available—hadn’t been since Carrigan took the album. He needed it back, the sooner the better. The thought of carrying on like this without an anchor made him sick to his stomach. This life was a slippery slope, and he was already too far gone. If he wasn’t careful, he’d wake up one day and realize he’d turned into his old man.

James grabbed his phone and dialed. He’d meant to call her back earlier, since his promise to her was still ringing in his ears, but he couldn’t with the memory of what he’d done to Joe still riding him so hard. It wasn’t going away anytime soon, though, and maybe some time with her was just what he needed to center himself. The longer the line rang, the tenser he got.

What if she’s in trouble?
She hadn’t left a message earlier, but that didn’t mean a damn thing. He’d told her to call when she needed him, and then the first time she’d called, he hadn’t answered.
Good job, dipshit
.

The call clicked over to voice mail and he cursed. “I’m sorry I missed your call. I’m here now.” As tempting as it was to keep talking, to postpone the moment when he had to admit he’d fucked up, he made himself hang up.

A knock on his door made him frown. “What?”

“It’s me, boss.” Michael poked his head in. “I double-checked that shit you gave me. It’s all like Joe said. The first meeting Ricky actually pulled off was with those guys you met at Tit for Tat.”

His breath left him in a rush. Thank Christ he’d been able to put the brakes on his brother before he did any more damage. “Good.”

“Anything else you need from me?”

“Check on my brother and you can head out.” Between Joe and the aftermath, he’d wasted the day away.
Where are you, Carrigan?
He made sure his ringer was on and pocketed his phone. He wasn’t going to be able to eat anytime soon, but he couldn’t sit up here and mope in his room for the rest of the night. It was important he be seen, both as a warning and a promise to his people. Which meant Mickey’s was on the agenda.

He drove down there even though it was within walking distance. It was tempting to just keep driving. Too tempting. He had to remind himself of his responsibilities and what was expected of him more and more often as time went on. As shitty as it was, he dreaded the day where it all became second nature to him. When he finally fully stepped into the man he was required to be in order to run the Hallorans.

The monster.

Fuck, he was a moody bitch today. James walked into Mickey’s, ignoring the way silence fell as the men there caught sight of him. He made a beeline to the bar and nodded at Tommy. Tommy actually blanched before he caught himself.
Not you, too
. James forced his shoulders back and nodded. Fear or love. He might have been coming in here since before he could legally drink, but that history didn’t matter anymore. What mattered was that Tommy now saw him as someone to be feared. “Whiskey.”

He ignored the way the bartender’s hands shook as he poured a healthy glass and passed it over. James didn’t say thanks—just took the glass and retreated to his customary booth in the back. From here he could see everyone in the place. He sipped his drink as they slowly relaxed, and conversation started back up.

Good
. He might scare the shit out of them now, but they weren’t completely crippled by it. When his old man came into a room, no one spoke until he left it again. James didn’t like to think about what he had to have done in order to command that kind of fear.

Because he already knew.

He checked his phone again. Nothing. This was so damn stupid. James shook his head and downed half his whiskey. He should just track her ass down and make sure she was okay—except that was stalking, and he’d already crossed too many lines when it came to Carrigan. He couldn’t drop everything and go rushing to her side when that wasn’t what she’d asked him to do. There had to be a line somewhere.

He set his phone aside and concentrated on the whiskey in his glass, letting the low conversation from the pub roll over him. She’d call if she needed him. Simple as that. He just had to make sure he didn’t drop the ball next time she did.

If
she called again.

Chapter Thirteen

C
arrigan checked her phone for the twelfth time in five minutes. There was no way around it. Not only had James not called her back since the first time, but Kellen O’Neill was late. Extremely late. Over thirty minutes late.

She should have known after the conversation with her mother that the day was only going to go downhill from there, but the puppy had been so eager over the phone that she hadn’t really thought he’d stand her up. Another glance at her phone. Yeah, still late. She heaved a sigh. She should just go home. Dmitri had already offered her a legitimate choice, even if it was the best option of a group of truly shitty options. She didn’t really
need
Kellen O’Neill.

But she didn’t stand up and leave.

A few more minutes
. She eyed her empty glass. Another martini wouldn’t hurt. It wasn’t like she was driving. She smiled at the nervous-looking waiter and ordered.
He thinks I’m being stood up, too. Wonderful
. More to keep her hands busy than anything else, she texted James.
Hey stranger
.