Chapter 13: Hidden Heir: Chapter 13

Staying away from Brooke is harder than I thought it would be. My father’s instructions were clear, and he’s not one to be trifled with. He knows exactly how everything should be run down to the last detail, and even though the role of Pakhan rests on my shoulders, I would be foolish to discredit his advice.

Brooke is a distraction.

And a dangerous one because she completely consumes my thoughts. For the past couple of days I’ve stayed away from her to try and make it easier when the time comes to ask her to leave. That doesn’t mean I haven’t been keeping tabs on her through the CCTV.

She reentered my life on one of the worst nights of hers. I try to tell myself that it will be okay if she stays but I know that’s just wishful thinking. My father is right. I can’t afford a distraction right now.

The Italians have had a handle on the gun-running business for as long as I can remember. Aligning with them means top-quality weapons for our men and a fat stack of cash for them, but they also claim to have morals, digging in their heels at every turn because they dislike how we run things. If it weren’t such a delicate situation I’d tell them to go fuck themselves. I don’t judge them on how they make their money, they shouldn’t be judging us on how we make ours.

But unspoken propriety laws keep me from saying such things out loud. As I approach the restaurant where I’m meeting the Italian Don for dinner and discussion, I try to put Brooke and any irritation out of my mind.

It lasts until I cross the street, flanked by trusted men, and pass a jeweler with a gorgeous ruby necklace in the window. Rubies that are the same shade as Brooke’s lips. Instantly, she’s back in my thoughts as I picture her wearing nothing but that necklace. My core tightens instantly and my cock grows hard.

Luckily, my phone rings and I’m instantly distracted, hoping the Don is calling to cancel. No such luck. It’s Selina.

“What have you got for me?”

“You remember how the Irish were all up in arms about something?” Selina asks, her voice slightly breathless.

“Yeah.” I halt at the end of the street. “Are you running right now?”

“Treadmill,” Selina chuckles. “I don’t look this good without hard work.”

“Ha. I’m becoming out of breath just listening to you.”

“You’re stalling,” Selina remarks. “You’re near the restaurant, aren’t you?”

“I am. But I’m hoping you have some kind of bombshell news about the Irish that can turn this meeting into an email.”

“Not quite.” Selina sighs. “As I mentioned before, I’ve been following rumblings about distrust amongst the smaller Irish families.”

“Right. Do we know yet what that internal strife is about?”

“Money. And a lot of it. Someone misplaced enough money that they’re panicking about getting it back. It’s a large enough amount that I’m guessing they don’t want the Murphys to find out. But if we were able to find out about it, I can’t imagine the Murphys will be in the dark much longer.”

I toy with the info. Is there an angle I can use here? The Irish aren’t much more than the occasional thorn in my side. They weren’t too happy when my father stepped down from power but I suspect that’s because they wanted to be the only family benefiting from the vision of youth with their Captain Ronan being just a little younger than me. Unfortunately, there’s nothing the Irish have that I want, and there are no pressing deals that I need to manipulate.

“Restlessness in smaller families is hardly a good sign, but as long as their strife doesn’t spill into our territory, I guess I don’t give a shit.”

Selina laughs dryly. “You always say that, but don’t forget about that Italian arranged marriage that went awry a few years ago. You were watching that like it was some kind of soap opera.”

I roll my eyes. “Whatever. Just find out what kind of money we’re talking about. If nothing else, it would be good to know what kind of cash they’re moving.”

“Will do.” Selina sighs deeply. “How is Brooke doing?”

I hesitate before answering. I was able to not think about her for a few minutes but now that Selina brought her up she’s back in my thoughts raging like a fire. Damn Selina for mentioning her. Distance is doing nothing but making my desire for her stronger.

“She’s fine,” I say. “Still recovering, I suppose.”

“Poor thing,” Selina replies. “Having your business robbed, being attacked, and then having that same business burned to the ground all within a few days. That’s some really shitty luck.”

“Hold on a minute.” My chest tightens like a sudden weight is pressing down on me. “What do you mean her business burned to the ground?”

“The floral shop.” Selina replies. “You didn’t see her bawling her eyes out earlier?”

I hang up on Selina.

“Sir?” One of my guards stumbles back as I turn abruptly.

“Take me home.”

“But—” He glances down the street at the restaurant.

“I said take me home.”

——

I find Brooke in Tiffany’s bedroom, sitting cross-legged on the floor singing softly to her daughter, who is fast asleep in her brand-new toddler bed. Brooke leans down and kisses Tiff’s forehead, smoothing some curls away from her face before standing and turning around. She jumps slightly in surprise, raising one hand over her chest.

“Leon! I didn’t hear you come in.”

Lingering in the doorway, I tighten my grip on the door handle. Her eyes are rimmed red, her cheeks flushed with noticeable tear tracks streaking through her make up. She’s obviously been crying.

She’s been in pain under my roof and I didn’t notice because my father told me to keep my distance. I listened to him when I should have been with her.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I ask quietly.

Brooke moves away from the bed, knitting her brows together in confusion. “Tell you what?”

“That your business burned to the ground.”

There’s a flash of pain in her eyes and her hands come together at her abdomen. Long fingers fold together as Brooke worries her bottom lip then shrugs and looks away. “I don’t know. You were busy. Rik told me you had something really important today so I was focusing on Tiff.”

I glance over at her daughter sleeping peacefully, a flurry of emotions clashing within—sympathy for Brooke, irritation at my father, anger at myself. I told her she would be safe here and one thing my father taught me was to always keep my promises. That means all of them, even the ones he doesn’t agree with.

“Have you eaten?” I ask as my gaze darts back to Brooke.

“Not yet.”

“Come with me.” Instructing Rik to stay with Tiff, I lead Brooke down to the kitchen and begin rummaging around in the cupboards for something to make a decent dinner. The meeting I abandoned with the Italians crosses my mind.

I’ll make it up to them later. This is more important.

Soon, pasta is bubbling on the stove while Brooke grates cheese and I sauté garlic, shallots, and rosemary in a pan.

“Tell me about your business.”

The grating stops briefly and Brooke lets out a soft, humorless laugh. “I might cry if I tell you.”

“That’s alright.”

“Do you remember the night we met?”

I bite my tongue so I don’t answer too eagerly. Barking out an enthusiastic yes will surely give the wrong impression, so I nod instead.

“I told you that I was celebrating a work thing. It wasn’t a promotion or anything like that. I was celebrating the fact that I finally had enough money to put down a deposit on my shop and being able to sign on the dotted line. It was the best day of my life. So much had gone wrong up until that moment, but the second I signed that paper, it felt like I was stepping into a part of my life that was just for me, you know?” She resumes her grating at a slower pace. “It was my own business. My chance to make money while doing what I loved. Something self-taught that I’d learned through social media and videos, books at the library, listening to elderly people talk down at the allotments near where I grew up. I always knew I wanted to do flowers.”

She speaks from a place of honest love. I can tell by the tone of her voice and the subtle smile that creeps across her face that it really is her passion. It briefly reminds me of how fondly my father used to speak about the garden he poured so much love into with my mother. He hasn’t stepped foot out there since she passed.

“I would pour myself into posts, advertising my home grown flowers and displays, showcasing every step of growth just so viewers could trust that my arrangements were natural and beautiful because of love. I had so many clients but still hit a bit of a rough patch…” She trails off slightly. “But what business doesn’t?” Gathering the grated cheese into a bowl, she moves next to me.

In the low light, I catch a few unshed tears clinging to her lashes.

“Now it’s all gone and I…” Her breath shudders. “I have clients I’ll need to call. And the bank, the insurance company, and…” She rubs one hand over her cheek, her gaze on my pan as I add in chopped tomatoes, mixed spices, and a bit of water, slowly letting the sauce come to a simmer.

“Do you know who would do something like that?”

Brooke looks up at me with a shocked expression. “You think someone did it?”

“You don’t?”

Her gaze slides away. “I guess I just assumed it was an accident. Faulty wiring or something.”

I’d believe her if her tone wasn’t so uncertain. Someone did this. It’s too much of a coincidence to believe otherwise. “The man that attacked you and followed you, do you think he would do such a thing?”

“No,” Brooke replies instantly, making me unwilling to believe her.

She tries to laugh it off and sniffles. “Maybe the person that broke into my store came back for round two.”

Something isn’t adding up. I’m inclined to believe that whoever broke into her store and attacked her is the same person, given how coincidences like that don’t exist in my world. But Brooke is still cagey regarding details about her life. Her tale of always wanting to become a florist is the most I’ve gotten out of her since she arrived.

I can’t fault her. I did immediately distance myself.

“I will have my people look into it,” I say.

“You don’t have to do that,” she says quickly. “That would be a waste of time. It was probably some kid who didn’t know any better.”

“Arson is arson,” I reply simply.

“Would you have them arrested?” Brooke looks up at me with wide eyes. “What if it was just some kid letting off steam?”

“Do you think I would have them arrested?” Her innocence regarding what I’m capable of is rather sweet.

“I don’t know,” she says honestly. “You have armed guards and live behind a giant wall. You don’t seem like the average man.”

“I’m not the average man, you’re right. But I take care of the people under my roof and I will find out who did this to your business. As for what happens to them…” I turn down the heat under the sauce and take a small spoon from the drawer, scooping some up. “I will let you decide.”