AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“All right, Ronan,” Uncle Joseph says. He gets to his feet with a grunt. “We didn’t want this to turn combative. Let’s call this conversation finished for now.”
The men shuffle out. Cormac’s the last to go, and he glances back over his shoulder. For the first time in a while, he seems a little uncertain, before he disappears into the house.
Niall shuts the door behind him and turns on me. “What were you thinking?” he asks, sounding exasperated.
“You heard them. They’re questioning my competence.”
“No shit they are. You’re supposed to make them feel better, not slam your dick down on the desk and tell them to shut the fuck up.”
I bristle at that. “Cormac said I’m fucking her.”
“You probably are!” Niall rolls his eyes at my snarl. “Come on, you asshole, I’m your friend. I know you, and you’re obviously into the girl. I’m just saying if I can see it, so can everyone else, and you need to be more careful, that’s all. Sleeping with her is one thing, but sleeping with her and taking jobs from her and giving her positions in the family is much, much different. That’s all I’m saying.”
I want to be pissed at him, but I understand his point. Niall excuses himself and leaves me alone to stew. I look back on all my interactions lately, and I can see how some people might see my actions as evidence that I’ve somehow been corrupted by an outside influence.
It’s not like that though. Far fucking from it. Only I don’t have to convince myself—I have to make the rest of my family understand that Valentina is on our side.
Chapter 25
Valentina
Imiss my family. I miss the full house, the laughter, the jokes and the banter. I miss knowing there’s someone nearby to help whenever I need it.
I don’t miss the fucking headaches.
Which is exactly what Rocco Ferraro’s turning out to be.
The man is a pain in my ass. No, Ronan’s a pain—Rocco’s more like a festering freaking wound. Every time I make a suggestion, from a route change to better storage protocols, he dives down my throat and gets all aggressive and mad. It’s like dealing with a toddler, except he’s a dangerous, grown-ass man, and I somehow have to work with him.
Rocco’s driving me insane. But slowly, over the course of a week, we make some progress. Routes are hammered out, distribution is agreed upon, pricing is negotiated with Ronan’s constant approval, until we end up in a place where the product might actually start flowing. Which is good, since he’s nearly done selling through that meth shipment we stole already.
I spend most of the day at Bloody Strike at a corner booth. The Irish lads joke that it’s my office, and mostly they’re nice to me, if a little distant. Niall’s the only one that spends any significant time in my presence. Mostly they act like I don’t exist, and that’s fine with me, since I’m having a hard enough time getting Rocco to behave like an adult businessman and not a screaming baby.
It’s Thursday night. My shoulders ache from the stress. I unlock Ronan’s front door and let myself inside; we’re past the point of knocking and all that. It’s weird, but I live here. My clothes are in the closet, my toiletries are in the bathroom, and we’re having sex pretty much every night at this point. We’re pretending like I stay in the guest room, but I haven’t slept in that bed since the night he first fucked me in the kitchen.
“Something smells good,” I say as I kick off my shoes and hang my keys up. Ronan’s in the kitchen, shirtless, wearing only a plain gray apron and a pair of black joggers. His arms look so freaking good, it’s obscene, as he stirs something in a Dutch oven.
“You’re back early,” he says and quickly goes to pour me some wine.
“What’s all this?”
“I wanted to surprise you.”
“It worked.” He hands me the glass, which I accept and take a long drink. “But I’m more wondering why.”
“I know you’ve been taking a lot of shit from Rocco, and I wanted to do something to help ease your stress.”
I stare at him. I look at the pot on the stove. I glance at his muscular forearms. “Who is this man and what did you do with Ronan?”
“Cut his throat. I’m his evil twin brother, Fonan.”
I roll my eyes and sit down at the table as he gets back to cooking. “You didn’t have to do this, you know. You’re dealing with a lot too.”
“Ah, love, don’t stress about that too. Besides, I like doing this. I haven’t had an excuse to put together a classic Irish stew in a long time.”
I make a face. “Stew? Seriously?”
“It’s fucking good.” He waves a spoon at me. “Don’t complain until you’ve eaten some at least.”
