Two

Chapter Two

Tam

“IT’S BEEN THREE DAYS since Harvey was murdered, and we haven’t done a fucking thing.”

My father must have heard me—I was only standing six feet away—but he didn’t turn around to face me.

Samuel Cornell stood at the floor-to-ceiling window. Beyond him, the stunning views over the River Thames stretched endlessly, the water sparkling in the early summer sunshine, giving the impression of us being somewhere exotic rather than London.

We were in my father’s office in his penthouse apartment on the Southbank. The penthouse was arranged over two floors, with the upper floor we were on now comprising the living area, kitchen, and office, and downstairs were the four bedrooms, each with their own bathroom and walk- in wardrobe. The apartment was the best in the block. My father would know. He owned the rest of the building as well.

Tension filled the room like smoke, making it harder to breathe.

I glowered at my father. “What’s wrong with you?” I tried again. “Your son is dead and it’s like you don’t give a fuck!”

He finally faced me, but his features wore an emotionless mask. “I think torturing a man would be considered as doing something.”

The man who’d done the shooting was dead. I’d seen to that myself. He hadn’t died right away either. I’d drawn out every inch of his suffering with more pleasure than I should have felt. All I’d been able to think was how he’d murdered Harvey, had stolen him from us, had diminished our family, and he had to pay. I’d needed to get him to talk, to admit to me that Greyson Gilligan had been the one to send him, but the son of a bitch had refused to say a word. I wondered what the Gilligans had held over him to stop him from talking even while pieces of him were being cut off. It had to be something pretty powerful—like the man’s children would die if he so much as uttered a syllable. Whatever the threat had been, it had worked. In the end, I’d lost my temper and finished him.

This wouldn’t be the end of it either. The fucking Gilligans would keep coming, but I wanted us to be strong enough to fight them off without the need to create some pact with the Cornells.

“The shooter might not have confirmed what we already know, but that shouldn’t stop us from acting.”

“The Gilligans haven’t held their hands up to it, have they?” my father asked rhetorically. “They haven’t claimed responsibility.”

I clenched my fists trying to prevent my frustration from boiling over. “They’re not likely to do that, are they?”

“They might, as a way of showing both families what they’re capable of.” I gestured towards the window, to the city beyond, the view of St Paul’s

Cathedral and the Millenium Bridge. “So why the fuck aren’t we out there doing something? This needs to be avenged. An eye for an eye. They killed Harvey, so now we take one of Greyson Gilligan’s sons. We need to show people that you don’t get to just murder one of us without tearing down this whole fucking city as payback.”

“It’s not that easy, Tam. Harvey was my son, and I will mourn his death for the rest of my days, but I have other responsibilities. People rely on us. There is still business that needs to be done.”

“Money,” I spat. “You’re doing nothing because of money. Because you don’t want to piss off the wrong people.”

“If it was just my money, it would be different, but it isn’t. I think with my head and not my heart when it comes to business, and honestly, Tam, I thought you were more like me.”

I gritted my teeth. “That was before my brother was murdered.”

“So, what are you planning to do? Just go and gun down the Gilligans?” He narrowed his eyes and shook his head. “You’re smarter than that, Tam. You’ll start a war.”

“Maybe a war is exactly what we need.”

“Not when it means us losing. The whole reason Harvey was going to marry Hallie Wynter is because we’re not powerful enough to defeat the Gilligans on our own.”

I slammed my fist on the table. “That’s bullshit. We can take them down.”

My father clicked his tongue in disappointment at my outburst. He had never been one for displays of emotion. He’d taught me from an early age that feelings equalled weakness.

“They’re too powerful for us. You know that. And what if we’re wrong about them being responsible for Harvey’s death?”

“We’re not wrong. Who else would it be?”

He rubbed his fingers across his lips. “I’m not sure, but I need you to keep your head, Tam. We need to bide our time. When we have proof, then I promise you we will tear the culprit limb from limb and scatter his pieces across every corner of London, but until then, you need to stay cool.”

I knew my father was right, but I wasn’t happy about it. Rage burned through me in a white-hot flame, and I wanted to destroy everything and everyone I came across. I didn’t understand why he didn’t feel the same way.

“Where’s Leo?” I demanded. “What does he make of all this?”

Leo was my youngest brother, but, in many ways, he seemed older than me. He’d already met the woman he planned to marry and was more settled down than any of the three of us. Of course, Harvey would have been the most settled, had he been allowed to live long enough to marry his bride.

“Leo agrees with me.”

“Of course he does,” I muttered, folding my arms and shaking my head. “He has people he wants to protect. He knows that when something like

this kicks off, no one is safe.”

“It already has kicked off,” I growled, “but we weren’t the ones to do the fucking kicking.”

“There’s something else I need you to think about,” he said. I didn’t like the sound of that. “What is it?”

“If the day comes where we learn for a fact that the Gilligans were the ones behind Harvey’s murder, we’re still going to be in the same position unless we have the Wynters onside.”

I took a couple of steps towards him, and agony twisted in my thigh. I took a note out of my father’s playbook and did my best to not let the pain from my old injury show on my face, though it made me want to grit my teeth and growl.

“What the fuck are you talking about. The Gilligans murdered the man Hallie Wynter was about to marry, at her own fucking wedding. How can the Wynters not already be onside?”

“That’s not enough, and you know it.”

“You mean because the Wynters are fucking cowards and they’d rather let this be our problem.”

“It is our problem.”

“No, it’s the Wynters’ problem as well. If the Gilligans’ plan was to stop the wedding in order to prevent our two families from joining, then that leaves the Wynters as weak as—” I cut off, realisation dawning on me. Oh, Samuel Cornell, you sly bastard. “No,” I said. “No fucking way.”

“It’s the only way. Leo is already taken.”

“Leo can get untaken. He’s more her age. Jesus Christ, she’s practically a goddamned kid.”

My father shoved his hands in his pockets. “Don’t be an idiot, Tam. I don’t have time for this shit. The girl is twenty-one.”

“And I’m thirty-four.”

“I’m ten years older than your mother,” he pointed out. “That’s different.”

“How?”

I didn’t have an answer for that.

My father continued. “If you want us to have any strength against the Gilligans when the time comes, we need this alliance.”

“You’re wrong. We don’t need them.”

“Don’t argue with me, Tam! I’m still the head of this family. Respect that or you know where you can go.”

Respect needed to be earned. My father must be getting soft in his old age. I remembered Samuel Cornell as being fearsome while I had been growing up. No one would have dared to cross him. But now someone had murdered one of the sons of our family, and nothing was done about it. When I was the head of the family, I wouldn’t allow families like the Gilligans to get away with it unpunished.

“And what about the girl? What does she make of this situation?”

I’d met Hallie Wynter one time before all of this, when she’d only been eighteen. We’d shared a moment back then, but it wasn’t something I’d planned on repeating, especially when I’d been thirty at the time.

He shrugged. “She will do what her father tells her, just like you should be doing.”

I snorted. “Her father should take pity on her. What man would want his daughter in the hands of someone like me?”

“Marlon Wynter is a man who values his business above all else.”

For a moment, I almost felt sorry for her, but I quickly pushed the feeling away. I wasn’t going to marry some girl—I didn’t want to marry anyone— but I also didn’t want to anger my father any further. Maybe there was a way

I could agree to marry her but get her to be the one to refuse to marry me. Surely, that wouldn’t be hard. I wouldn’t want to be married to me.

A seed of a plan planted in my mind. “Fine, I will marry her, but under one condition.”

“What is that?”

“She must live with me for thirty days first. If at the end of the thirty days, or at any point in between, she tells me she wants to go home, then the agreement is off. I won’t marry a girl who doesn’t want to be married to me.”

He ducked his head in a slow nod. “That sounds reasonable to me. I’m sure the Wynters will also be in agreement with those terms.”

My father reached out his hand for me to shake, and I took it with confidence.

The girl would be begging to go home by the time I was done with her.