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I swallow a frustrated sigh and level him with a glare as the girl walks away with a blank look on her face.

For fuck’s sake. I’m going to kick his ass for that later.

Although it could be worse. I could have Declan with me. Christ only knows what he’d have done.

“He’s not,” I repeat to de Rosa, “my backup. Can we get on with this.” I use the words of a question, but it’s a command.

I don’t look at Seamus. He’s thinking the same thing about the backup comment, and we can both count three of de Rosa’s goons in here. One at the bar, one loitering near the lounge area, and one against the wall when we came in. Seamus couldcomment, but he doesn’t. He knows better, and that’s what Idon’tpay him for. He’s my brother, not my staff.

Before we came here today, I finally opened the package de Rosa sent me when we first talked about a deal. It had his daughter’s photo, her stats. Fuck, it’s a wonder it didn’t come with her first prize ribbon for best in show, but I didn’t bother looking because nothing I do is based on emotion in that way. Pretty, ugly, I really don’t care.

I wanted the deal that I wanted, and I wasn’t about to let anything sway me. But now? It’s all set. This is the signing of the prenup. My prenup. It’s fair, the terms I stated, but it means he can’t get more than the deal, and he sure as shit can’t use his hot daughter to sway me.

Nothing can. Nobody will.

She is beautiful, though. With green eyes, dark-auburn hair, and lips made for cock—she’s fucking stunning, if I’m being honest. Not that I care. Now, the hot girl I finger-banged and kissed in the park?—

No, not even for her. She’d be nothing more than a side project.

“Callahan?” Seamus says in a voice that tells me to pay attention. “We were talking about the marriage. You have dates in mind?”

“The sooner the better.”

Vincent smiles and he claps ringed hands together as my brother and I stand there.

Their drinks arrive and Seamus looks even more pleased. He’s a single malt whore, but the best Irish will also do.

“Sit, please,” Vincent commands. When we don’t, he continues. “You did a brilliant job on the Mitchum hit… put a stop to some moves from fresh bratva blood—I mean, he was making deals, pressing me for money and loyalty.”

“Death,” I say, “usually puts a stop to things.”

“Who did you hire? I’d love to have that person on my books. No one could give a description. He had a woman as a distraction… brilliant, fucking brilliant.”

My brothers think I should take credit for hits. But as long as it’s understood I give the orders, no one needs to know who the man behind the gun is. It makes it more mythical that way.

Seamus sighs.

I slant a look at Seamus, and he knocks back his drink, then sets his briefcase on the table in front of de Rosa. The click of the locks is loud in the almost empty room. There isn’t even background music. Just an expensive atmosphere, hot, naked girls, and his backup.

Dec’s gonna be jealous.

Of the girls, not the backup. Declan would use those guys as target practice.

“I’m thinking next week we have the engagement party and the week after the wedding,” he says.

“Fine by me—as long as you sign the prenup,” I reply, my face remaining stoic. Seamus clears his throat. Although Vincent dismissed him as my lackey, my brother’s actually smart. With his law degree, he helped their lawyer draft the contract.

“It’s legally binding the moment you sign. Just to cover any last-minute change of mind. If that happens, the one who pulls out has to pay an amount that is… substantial. And not all of that is in cash.”

“No one’s doing that on my end.” De Rosa laughs.

“Humor Callahan by signing, and as soon as rings are exchanged, you’ll get the introduction you want.” Seamus taps the prenup.

“I’m sure after that hit I won’t need it. Not now. You’ve more than proved yourself.”

I nod, watching, reading him. But he’s mafia, and he can hide his tells with the best of us.

I take the prenup, pull out my pen, and sign in all the requisite places. His copy and mine. Then I slide them both over to him. “Your turn.”