Alex released a slow puff of smoke, the cigar balanced loosely between his fingers as he leaned forward, his forearm resting against the polished table.
"This is a fine cigar you've got here, Seamus," he said, exhaling another thin stream of smoke.
"Only the best for you, Barinov," Seamus replied, taking a long puff of his own before tapping the ash into a crystal tray.
"Then why don't we get into it?" Alex said.
Seamus, the Irish lieutenant, the equivalent of a Capo in their organization, shifted his attention toward me, his gaze dragging slowly from my head to toe. He was a middle-aged man with dark hair threaded with gray, sharp blue eyes and a crooked grin that seemed permanently etched into his face.
I leaned back in my chair, refusing to show the discomfort crawling up my spine.
"Not her, Seamus," my husband warned calmly.
He tilted his head slightly toward the woman sitting beside me.
"The blonde," he clarified. "Arturo's daughter. Just as you requested."
Camilla scoffed softly, the sound cutting through the room. Every pair of male eyes immediately shifted toward her.
She looked around the table, one brow lifting as if she had just noticed the attention.
"In my family," she said coolly, "I was treated with respect. Not like some prized cattle to be married off and bred." Her gaze moved deliberately from one man to the next. "So I would appreciate it if my future in-laws extended me the same courtesy."
For a moment, the room was quiet.
Then Seamus chuckled, smoke spilling from his mouth as he leaned back in his chair.
"I like her," he said, amusement glinting in his eyes. "She'll suit my son very well."
"I'm glad you think so," Alex replied smoothly.
But beneath the calm tone of his voice, I could hear the steel in it.
He took another slow drag from his cigar before setting it down the ashtray.
"Before we go any further," Alex said, his green eyes settling on Seamus, "I'd like to meet the man first."
Seamus tilted his head slightly. "The man?"
"The one you intended to marry her to," Alex clarified, nodding toward Camilla. "I'm surprised you hadn't brought him to meet with us in the first place. You know how I don't conduct business blind, Seamus. If we're going to tie our families together, I want to see him first."
A few of the Irishmen around the table shifted in their seats, exchanging glances. But Seamus didn't even look remotely offended. If anything, his crooked grin widened.
"Careful man," he said, tapping the ash from his cigar. "You're startin' to sound like a protective brother there."
"Something like that," Alex replied coolly, resting his free hand on my lap.
Seamus watched him for another moment, then let out a short chuckle. "Fair enough."
He lifted a thick finger and lazily gestured toward the closed door of the private room behind him. "Go on then," he called. "Stop lurkin'."
The door creaked open.
A man stepped inside.
He was about in his early thirties. Tall, broad-shouldered, with the same dark hair and striking blue eyes as Seamus. The resemblance between them was unmistakable, though the younger man carried himself with a sharper edge. His sleeves were rolled slightly at the forearms, revealing dark ink curling along his skin. The faint shadow of a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth as he looked around the room.
His gaze briefly swept across the table before settling on his father.
"You called, Father?" he said in a calm Irish accent.
Seamus leaned back in his chair, pride flickering in his eyes.
"Come meet your future wife," he said, nodding toward Camilla.
Camilla stared at him, her eyes narrowing slightly.
Liam didn't seem bothered by the scrutiny. If anything, he looked amused.
He walked around the table toward our side and extended his hand.
Camilla hesitated only a second before standing and taking it.
"Nice to meet you," she muttered.
"My name's Liam," he said easily. "And you are?"
"Camilla."
"Beautiful name," he remarked, the corner of his mouth curling upward. Then, before she could pull her hand away, he lifted it and brushed a light kiss against the back of her palm. "I'm sure we'll get along well."
Camila's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly.
I shot Alex a questioning look, but he only curled his lips at me.
Camilla cleared her throat, before she walked back to her seat. Liam rounded the table and sat right next to his father, where his men stood up and walked out the door.
"Nothing's official yet," she bit out. "Not until the contract's signed."
"About the contract," he began slowly, his blue eyes drifting between Alex and me. "We may need to move thing along a bit quicker...perhaps renegotiate a few of the terms.
My brows drew together.
"I thought the terms were already negotiated," I said evenly. I had spent hours drafting and refining that contract with his team of lawyers weeks ago, exactly as Alex had asked before we had to leave for Italy.
Seamus nodded slowly, as if acknowledging the effort.
"Aye," he said. "They were."
He leaned forward slightly, folding his hands on the table.
"But circumstances change."
His gaze settled on me now.
"And I happen to have something the two of you want very badly."
A slow smile spread across his face.
"Especially you, Signorina Barinov."
"Who do you have?" I asked.
Seamus clicked his tongue softly against his teeth, then took a slow puff from his cigar before he finally answering, "Who else?" he said lazily. "Your beloved Nonno. The very man you betrayed...if I remember correctly."
The words settled heavily over the table.
"Alive?" I asked.
"Of course he's alive," Seamus said, raising his brow. "Who do you think I am?"
He exhaled a cloud of smoke, his tone turning colder.
"Now, don't mistake me, I bear no love for the man after what he did to us. But that feud?" He waved his cigar between Alex and I. "That's between the two of you and him. Not the Irish."
His eyes gleamed.
"I'm merely interested in what you're about to inherit."
Beside me, Alex's hand tightened around my thigh beneath the table. A quiet warning for me to remain calm. So I forced myself to breathe evenly.
"How?" I asked.
Seamus chuckled under his breath.
"I've got an in," he said. "You Italians seem to forget who ran this city the longest."
He leaned back in his chair, studying me carefully.
"Even your father, Isolda, had the sense to understand that. A better businessman than your irrational grandfather ever was."
My fingers curled slightly in my lap.
Seamus tilted his head.
"Tell me something," he went on. "Did you ever wonder where that hair of yours came from?"
Alex's hand went still.
"Did you even know your mother had Irish blood in her veins?"
I stiffened.
Across the table, Liam's brows lifted slightly, clearly enjoying the revelation.
Seamus let out a low chuckle. "They never told you, did they?" he asked, then gestured lazily toward my hair. "That reddish tint ins't exactly common among Italians, lass."
My pulse began to pound in my ears.
"Your mother's parents were Irish immigrants," Seamus continued calmly. "They were good, honest people. When they first arrived in New York, seeking a better life, it was my father who offered to protect them."
His eyes sharpened.
"So you see...this city has a way of tying families together."
He leaned forward slightly, smoke curling between us.
"And sometimes those ties run a lot deeper than you realize."
"What do you want, Seamus?" Alex asked, his voice low and controlled.
The Irish lieutenant didn't answer immediately. He took his time, drawing slowly on his cigar as though savoring the moment. Smoke curled lazily between us before he finally leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table.
Blue eyes flicked from Alex...to me...then to Camilla.
"The wedding," he said.
The word landed heavily in the quiet room.
He tapped the ash from his cigar.
"We'll have it tonight."