Page 17 of Birthright (Sinners of New Orleans #4)

SIXTEEN

Sam

I follow John into my office, shutting the doors behind us. My cousin goes right for the leather armchair and sits down, waiting for me to join him before he speaks.

"Kade agreed to a meeting. Tomorrow at one p.m."

Kade Marcellus is the president of the Iron Serpents.

He's a middle-aged man who took over in his twenties after my father killed most of his club in retaliation for my mother’s death.

After that, Nonno had a sit-down with Kade, coming to the agreement that's been in place for the last eighteen years.

This is what I wanted. A sit-down with the Serpents. See if there's an agreement we can come to before things turn into a bloody war.

"I promised to take Olivia to her bar tomorrow."

John tilts his head, eyeing me skeptically. "This is more important, yeah?"

Scrubbing a hand through my hair, I nod. "Yeah. Of course. I'll be there. Arrange backup, and I think Adrian should come in with us." It's time to get my new consigliere’s hands dirty. Well, I guess dirtier than I've already gotten them.

"I'll have it taken care of," he confirms, but there's a look on his face, something he's leaving unsaid.

"What is it?" I ask with a huff.

John eyes the door before looking back at me. "The girl. She's becoming a… distraction."

"That's not true." I stand from my chair, moving to the bar cart and pouring myself a little too much bourbon before talking a large gulp.

Deep down, I know he might be right. The blue-eyed devil is running laps in my mind, keeping herself present in my thoughts far too much. But I'm not willing to admit that. I'm the boss of the New Orleans outfit. I can't be obsessed with a woman. I don't have time and I don't do commitment.

"What would you suggest I do, hmm?" I ask, turning back to my cousin.

"Get rid of her. She's a liability."

"I can't kill her."

John blows out a breath and leans back in the chair. "There are other ways to get rid of people, cugino."

"No." I take another gulp. "She's not leaving. Not until I'm certain I can trust her."

That's the plan. Just keep her until I'm sure she won't talk if I let her go.

That will definitely work.

I hope.

Olivia is ready to go bright and early the next morning.

I find her sitting at the bottom of the stairs, dressed in a pair of black leggings and an oversized denim shirt paired with sandals.

It's a bit casual for me, but I don't comment on her outfit.

Even though I had my personal shopper bring her a ton of choices.

I'm just surprised to see her wearing such a simple outfit when she could have chosen anything.

Dressing your captive?

My mind rattles at the thought. It's wrong. Weird. Who takes someone captive and then buys them a whole wardrobe. But she didn't have clothes, and what was I supposed to do, make her walk around in the same outfit for weeks?

Or maybe you just wanted to see her all dressed up for you…

So what if I did?

She's alive because of me, after all. Is it so bad if I wanted to see her dressed nicely after I spared her life?

I have to shake away these thoughts. I need to fulfill my promise to her and then get back to work. Already, I think I should’ve had one of my men take her to the bar, but I wanted to be the one to give her this gift of a homecoming. Even if I don't plan on letting her return indefinitely.

Maybe I just want her gratitude. Something she seems unwilling to give.

I can't blame her. I am the man who had her kidnapped and is keeping her against her will, after all.

"Ready?"

Her head snaps up at my voice, and she stands from the step she's sitting on.

"Ready," she confirms.

I could have someone drive me in the black bullet-proof Escalade, but I decide that would give me too much time sitting next to Olivia in the backseat.

I need something to focus on, so I choose to drive myself instead and have my men follow behind.

The sleek black BMW M4 is ready and waiting when we exit the front door.

Olivia is quiet as she slips into the passenger seat, buckling herself in. She must be on her best behavior, knowing I'm about to take her home, where she's been begging to go since I first met her in the warehouse.

Something pulls at my chest. Pride? Pleasure? I like knowing I'm the one giving her what she wants.

Gino's bar has been a staple of the French Quarter since I've been alive.

I recognized Olivia's last name as soon as she told me.

Gino Marchese was already friendly with my grandfather and paid his protection fee on time and without hassle.

The one who caused a problem was his son, Sal.

Olivia's father had quite the gambling problem before he passed away and never seemed to have the money to pay his fee.

As I pull up to the bar, my crew steps out of the SUV, scanning the vicinity before giving me the all-clear. Olivia's eyes stay fixed on me while I hold back until they confirm it's safe to get out.

"Is someone after you?" she asks, not yet reaching for the door handle.

"It's part of doing business." I shut the door behind me and walk around to her side of the car, opening it for her and extending a hand. She considers it before looking both ways and standing from the car, ignoring my outstretched hand.

I chuckle at her refusal to let me help.

Seems like my girl is fiercely independent.

Something simmers inside me. A dark thought. I want to strip that independence away from her. Make her dependent on me and only me.

Olivia is quick to make her way to the bar, rushing past me. I reach out, grabbing her arm and tugging her backwards. Her spine meets my chest, and I momentarily lose focus, distracted by the feeling of her body against mine.

"This is a reward, Olivia," I whisper into her ear. She gulps, her throat bobbing with the motion, and my eyes dart to it, relishing the way she reacts to my voice. "You can check in on your grandfather and the bar, but then we leave. Understood?"

She nods.

"Say it," I demand, feeling her shiver as my breath skates across her skin.

"Understood," she recites.

I release her, and she's off, rushing toward the bar and swinging open the front door. I nod to my men to keep watch as I follow her inside.

The bar is nice, but in desperate need of some work.

It's clear that it's been neglected since Gino's health has declined.

It has good bones, though, with dark wooden beams stretched across the ceiling and the exposed brick walls covered in local artwork.

The bar itself is a beast made of mahogany with intricate carvings that have probably been there for decades, but it's dull and scratched, needing a good polishing.

Behind it are mirrors with shelving that showcase the lines of spirits.

There are tables scattered around the place, their surfaces marked by years of use.

An older man stands behind the bar, but I know it's not her grandfather.

"Joey," she calls him, and he moves around the bar quickly to embrace her. My palm clenches. I don't like the sight of another man’s hands on her.

He pats her shoulders and looks over her like a scared mother who lost her child in the grocery store, checking to make sure everything is intact. And then his eyes move to me, widening at the sight. I take pride in the fear that ghosts his face.

"Why is he here?" he asks Olivia, and even though I want to step in, tell the man to get his hands off her, and announce that she belongs to me now, I wait. I want to hear what she tells him.

She glances over her shoulder at me before turning her gaze back to Joey. "It's okay. He's not going to hurt me."

The aging fellow appears suspicious as his gaze bounces back and forth between us, then he murmurs to her, "What happened?"

Olivia inhales deeply. "They took me somewhere, I'm not sure where, and then he showed up.

" She gestures to me. She's leaving out a few things, likely for his benefit.

Like how she was tied to a chair with a hood over her head and made to wait an entire day before I had a chance to interrogate the woman who watched me kill my uncle.

I'm guessing Joey knows what she saw, and that's why he's so concerned. There's one thing he's not asking, though, and I can tell it's eating him alive as he keeps stealing glances at me.

Why is she still alive?"

"Is he…" Joey doesn't finish his sentence, probably afraid to speak whatever words he's struggling with into existence.

"Letting her go?" I fill in for him with a tilt of my head. Both of them spin to face me. "No," I answer.

"Then…"

"She's mine now," I say simply, glancing around the bar to take in the scenery as if this is all boring to me, just another day in the life.

Joey hisses something low to Olivia, clearly not amused by my statement. Not that his opinion matters much.

I stride over to her, placing my hand on her lower back. Whatever comment Joey was making dies on his tongue and his mouth snaps shut as he looks at me.

"Do you want to see your grandfather or not?" I ask, my tone sharp. Olivia and Joey look between each other, a silent conversation taking place that I'm not privy to.

Pivoting her head, she looks at me. "I'll be right back."

"I'm coming with you."

Her expression darkens as she plants her palms on her waist. "No," she declares with feigned confidence that amuses me. Is she really under the impression I wouldn't press her up against the counter right here, with her worker watching, to remind her exactly who calls the shots?

"Olivia." I click my tongue.

"He doesn't know you!" she spits back.

She's being protective. Every time this version of her comes out, it's when she's worried about her grandfather.

I take a step forward, and she takes one back, until her spine hits the edge of the wooden bar and my palms land on either side, caging her in.

Her gaze flicks to Joey's position at my back, but I can tell the guy recognizes me, and I'm not concerned about him stepping in.

"Olivia," I repeat, and her eyes dart back to mine. "You don't get to tell me what to do."

"You'll scare him," she says, not backing down. "He doesn't?—"

Instinctively, one of my hands reaches for her face, forcing her to look at me. "I won't. I understand his condition."

She swallows hard, my eyes darting to her throat to watch the motion. She's frustrated with me; I can tell by the way her palms are clenched and her jaw is taut. But she's pausing her fight, probably because she knows she won't win.

"Come on." I step back, extending my hand to her. She eyes it suspiciously, but begrudgingly takes it. I gesture for her to lead the way and follow as she takes me upstairs to the apartment above the bar.

She peeks inside the door, looking around the small apartment before she calls out for her grandfather.

"Grandpa?"

There in the living room, sitting in an old recliner, sits Gino Marchese. He turns his head from the TV show he's watching and looks at Olivia with confusion. The nurse I hired, Kelly, is on the sofa.

"Look, Gino." She smiles brightly. "It's your granddaughter."

Olivia moves to him, kneeling next to his recliner and taking his hand in hers. "How are you?"

He ignores her question, his eyes finding me. "Sal?" he asks. "When did you get back?"

There's a pained look on Olivia's face when she twists to look at me. This is what she was afraid of? An old man with a bit of confusion.

"Just now," I answer. No use in explaining to him that I'm not his dead son.

Olivia exhales a breath and turns her attention back to her grandfather.

"How's Livy?" he asks, his focus still on me. "You gotta go to Canada and see her." He groans. "I keep telling you this. It's not good for a girl to grow up without a father."

Interesting. So Olivia didn't have a good relationship with her father? I make a mental note to pry into this later.

"I'm right here." She squeezes his hand. "It's me, Olivia."

He glances down at her, still confused. "Rachel?" He calls her by the wrong name, and Olivia looks like she's been slapped, as if it physically pains her for him not to remember. "You're here? Where's Olivia?"

"She's downstairs with Joey," Olivia answers, fighting through her pain to play pretend.

"Are you two getting back together?" This question is for me.

"Yep," I answer, moving closer to Olivia so I can place my palm on her shoulder. "We're together." I feel Olivia's body tense under my hand.

"Good, good." His lips lift into a soft smile. "Olivia needs a happy home life. You take care of her, Sal." Gino speaks sternly to me, gesturing toward Olivia, and I wonder if this is a situation that has played out in the past, him urging his son to be a better father.

"I'll take care of her," I tell him, and I mean it.

Olivia is mine now.

And I take care of what's mine.