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When the men stood down, Montrell walked out of the elevator first, wishing he could send it down to the ground floor with his companions still onboard. They would never agree to that, though.
“Just a precaution,” his grandfather said. Liam O’Connell stood taller than the others. He was an inch or two bigger than even Montrell, except his hair was silver. His grandfather hadn’t gone to fat despite his age, though he had the thickness Montrell was known for. His brown eyes weren’t warm at all, and they were narrowed in calculation. “You understand if I don’t trust you around your mother.”
“Pretty sure you’ve got that backwards, old man,” Vespa muttered.
O’Connell’s eyes flicked to her. “Exactly my point. A grandson of my blood would be patient in his need for revenge.”
“I’ve told you before, I don’t blame her.” Montrell’s hand twitched at his side, pressing into his leg. “Is she like she was last time?”
“Worse.” The old man sighed. “I expect you’ll want to see her.”
Montrell hesitated. “Only if it won’t upset her.”
Liam O’Connell’s mouth flattened. “Everything upsets her.”
“I’m surprised you had her call. If this is business—”
“You’ll see to your duty first,” the older man snapped. “You’ve ignored your family too long already.”
“He ignored?” Vespa murmured, just loud enough for the old man to hear.
O’Connell’s eyes narrowed on her.
Montrell crossed his arms, bringing the attention back to him. “I thought keeping my distance was best for her.”
His grandfather hesitated, then nodded. “Fair enough. Your last visit didn’t go well.” His gaze shifted to Vespa again. “Partly because of this woman. I’m surprised you brought her back.”
“Vespa goes where I go,” Montrell said.
“So I’ve heard.” O’Connell’s eyes tried to pin Beatrice. “I also heard you took a wife.”
Montrell’s arms loosened, his hand shifting to her shoulder. “That rumor is true. This is Beatrice Coronella.”
O’Connell frowned. “You had no interest in marrying Irish blood?”
Montrell’s fingers rubbed against her shoulder. “It’s always been Beatrice for me. Besides, we haven’t spoken in years.”
“True.” Liam O’Connell waved to some of the closest men. “I have plenty of grandsons through your mother’s brothers. That was one reason I was willing to try an alliance years ago. A failed one.” His eyes narrowed. “Honestly, if the Di Salvos hadn’t made it a condition, I wouldn’t have called you here.”
Beatrice frowned. “If the last time failed so horribly, what is this business that’s so important you’d mingle with La Cosa Nostra again?”
His grandfather’s eyes were cold as they studied her. “I’d heard you were headstrong.”
Montrell didn’t appreciate how the Irishman looked at his wife. Before he could call the old man to task, O’Connell turned toward the hallway with a wave.
“As I mentioned, business will come after. A visit with Maeve comes first. She’s been wanting to meet your wife, Coronella.”
The room he led them to had the curtains along one entire wall pulled tight against the outside sun. His mother paced the confines of the dim sitting room, muttering to herself. She had always been tall, even in bare feet, which peeked out from the bottom of her skirt, whose frayed edge trailed along the carpet behind her. Her soft, cotton clothes hung off her body. She was slimmer than she’d been before. Her long, brunette hair with a sheen of red covered part of her face, looking as if it had been uncombed for days.
“Maeve,” Liam O’Connell called to her. Even his soft, calm voice startled her.
Montrell’s mother whirled around, her fingers gripping a chain she wore around her neck. It was the same medal she’d always worn. Between her punches, she used to clutch it and pray to God to give her strength for the punishments that were necessary to inflict.
“Your son came,” O’Connell added.
Maeve made a sound in her throat. “I can see he has. Still looks nothing like his father.” Her lip curled. “How the man liked to beat me for that fact. It was all your fault.”
“I know,” Montrell agreed. It was hard to feel anything in the face of one of her accusations. He’d expected a wave of love to rise for her, the one he’d always felt toward the woman he’d been born to protect. Instead, there was only a numbness. An emptiness. “Do you not want me here? I can leave if that’s easiest,” he offered.
