Page 49 of Brutal Heir (Ruthless Heirs #3)

SAFE AND ADORED

R ory

I linger in the shadows of the corridor, watching Alessandro through the doorway of his office.

He sits at his desk, all hard lines and dark menace as he instructs the Gemini foot soldiers on the comings and goings of the Irish mob families dotting the tri-state area.

A whisper of heat blossoms between my legs as I watch him command the room like a king preparing for war.

His voice is low and lethal, every word laced with authority, every movement purposeful.

The scar peeking from the collar of his shirt only makes him look more dangerous, more untouchable.

But I know the truth. I know the way his body reacts when I run my fingers through his hair.

I know how he kisses me like I’m the only thing that matters to him in this world.

And God help me, I crave that power. That raw, ruthless energy he so carefully leashes around everyone else. Except me.

The penthouse has become command central in the past week, an impenetrable fortress where Alessandro shouts orders to his men while keeping me captive. Safe. Adored. And coming on his cock all night long.

I can’t say I hate the perks of it.

It’s funny how quickly our roles have reversed.

Now I’m the wounded, weak one, hiding from my psychotic ex-fiancé.

When he’s not plotting Conall’s destruction, Alessandro dotes on me, takes care of me, like I once did to him.

I love seeing this side of him. He’s all but forgotten about his scars now that he has a mission.

But I’m not sure how much longer I can play this role.

I love that he protects me. But part of me, the part that clawed her way out of Belfast, wants to fight beside him. I don’t want to be tucked away like a secret.

I’ve never been one to hide, to cower in the face of powerful men. And I sure as shite don’t plan on starting now.

As if he’s felt my heavy gaze on him, he cocks his head in my direction, and the hint of a smile twitches at his lip before he schools it back into a hard line.

With his men in the room, he must put on the persona of the Gemini heir, not the lovesick schoolboy chasing after the poor little Irish girl.

“What’s the status, Jimmy? Did you get any new intel from the Murphys or O’Donoghues?” he barks.

Jimmy crosses his arms, jaw tight as he leans a hip against the line of bookshelves across the back wall of Alessandro’s office.

“We’ve got eyes and ears in every Irish syndicate from Hell’s Kitchen to Yonkers.

The Murphys are laying low, playing dumb, but they’re spooked.

Conall’s name alone is enough to make them twitch.

O’Donoghues are harder to crack, but I’ve got one of their runners feeding us scraps in exchange for protection and a fat envelope. ”

He pauses, glancing at Matteo, then back to Alessandro.

“We’ve inserted snitches into all the big crews. Kellehers, Brennans, the Westies. Low-level guys for now—bartenders, drivers, muscle who like fast money and loose lips. It’s not enough to give us Conall’s location yet, but if he even farts in this city, we’ll know.”

A smirk flickers across his mouth. “Far as we can tell, the O’Sheas haven’t made any noise. But word is Conall’s been wiring funds to ghost accounts linked to offshore safehouses. If the bastard’s coming stateside, he’s coming quiet. But not invisible.”

Conall in Manhattan? In the same city as the man I love. Maeve once warned me that when Conall disappears, it means he’s already planned the funeral.

A tendril of fear erupts low in my chest, working its way around my heart and lungs, sharp claws digging in. My throat tightens as memories of the past threaten to surge to the surface.

Jimmy shifts forward, expression hardening. “And, capo … if he gets close, we’ll have six guns on him before he’s within breathing distance of Rory.”

I draw in a breath at the venom in the Gemini enforcer’s voice but most of all at the fury carved into Alessandro’s expression as he says the words.

There’s no doubt in my mind Ale would reduce all of Manhattan to ash if it meant taking Conall down and keeping me safe.

But how much of himself would he burn away in the process?

“Good,” Ale snaps, calling my attention. “Now, get out there. I want all eyes and ears on the street.” He stands, along with the four other men in the room, two I don’t recognize. “Matty, you hang back a minute. I need to talk to you.”

“Sure, Ale, whatever you want.”

The three men brush by me in a whirl of black and overpowering cologne, nodding their heads as they pass.

I’ll say one thing, when I was engaged to Conall, his men treated me like I was no more than old gum stuck on the bottom of their shoes.

But with Alessandro, his men treat me like royalty.

Any time I enter a room, their heads immediately bow, eyes casting down to the floor as they mutter pleasantries.

It's weird. But also kind of nice.

“Come in here, Rory. You may as well hear this too.” His expression softens as he holds his hand out for me.

Abandoning my dark corner, I march into his office and wrap my fingers around his. He pulls me into his body, pressing my back against his front, and releases a soft sigh once I’m tight against him. As if his body needed mine to feel normal.

“ Merda , you guys are cute.” Matteo smirks, wagging a finger at us. “It almost makes me want one of you, Rory.”

“One of me? What am I, a feckin’ Playstation?”

Alessandro shoots his cousin a sharp glare.

Matteo laughs, long and hard, the warm sound similar to Alessandro’s but more exaggerated.

When he finally catches his breath, those deep green eyes lance into me.

“Nah, you know what I mean. Someone to fall in love with, like the real deal.” There’s a flash of something unreadable in those typically playful eyes.

Sadness? Regret? It’s gone before I can put my finger on it.

So, I tip my head back to find Alessandro’s weighty gaze steady on me. “Am I the real deal, McFecker?”

Another snort from Matteo.

“You better be, or I’m getting myself into a hell of a lot of trouble for a quick fuck.” His smirk is damned wicked as he makes a move toward my lips.

I jab my elbow into his side before he makes contact, earning a satisfying grunt.

He wraps his arms around me, spinning me around before I can get away. Not that I want to. His hand dives into my hair, fingers cradling the back of my neck so I’m helpless to do anything but meet that unwavering stare.

“You’re more than the real deal, you know that, right? You, Rory Delaney, are everything to me.”

My breath catches, the sincerity in his voice hitting harder than any bullet ever could. The weight of his words settles over me, molten and heavy, curling around the cracks inside my chest and sealing them shut.

“I hope you know what you’re saying,” I whisper, my voice barely holding steady. “Because everything to you means you’re stuck with me. Through the madness. The past. Whatever hell comes next.”

He leans in, his forehead brushing mine, his nose skimming my cheek like he needs to breathe me in to remember why he's still standing. “I know exactly what I’m going to do, how I’m going to fix this. I don’t care if the world burns, Red. As long as you’re beside me, I’ll walk through the flames.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” I reply, the corner of my mouth twitching with a ghost of a smile.

“I’m counting on it.” His lips ghost over mine, not quite a kiss, just a promise.

Behind us, Matteo clears his throat. “Alright, alright, before you two start humping each other on your desk, I’m going to grab a drink. Maybe two. I’ll be waiting in the kitchen.”

I flip him the bird without looking away from Ale, and he chuckles as he saunters out.

When the door clicks shut behind him, it’s just us. Quiet. Steady. Solid.

A groan rumbles Alessandro’s chest, the sound vibrating through my own as he presses his forehead to mine. “He’s right. If I don’t back away now, I will bend you over my desk and sink my cock so deep inside you, neither of us will be walking right for days.”

“That sounds like a challenge…” I lift a teasing brow.

“Don’t tempt me, little leprechaun.”

My eyes meet his, and a flutter blossoms behind my ribs. My fingernails bite into my palm as a storm of guilt and gratitude laced with desire overtakes me.

“Why not? I’m bored,” I whisper, a husky edge to my tone.

Then I drop to my knees before I can think better of it.

Matteo might be just down the hall in the kitchen, but he knows better than to come back in.

Since he gave us this time together, it almost seems like a waste not to take advantage of it.

Alessandro’s breath hitches.

“Rory…” His voice is a warning and a plea all at once.

But I look up at him with every ounce of stubborn fire I’ve got left. “Let me do this.”

His jaw clenches, muscles tight with restraint, eyes burning like he’s already losing the war with himself.

“I owe you,” I whisper. “For everything. For the way you protect me, believe me… love me.”

His hand tangles in my hair, not pulling, just there, trembling slightly. “Don’t say it like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like this is payment.” His eyes pierce into me, feral but vulnerable. “You don’t owe me your body, Red. Not now. Not ever. You’ve already given me your heart and that’s more than enough.”

“I know,” I whisper, pulse pounding in my throat.

“It’s not about owing you. It’s about needing this.

Needing you. Right now, I can’t stop thinking about everything out there—Conall, the bounty, the blood—and I just…

” My breath shakes. “I just want to focus on something that feels good. Something that’s mine. ”

His whole body goes still, then slowly, he sinks to his knees in front of me.

“You want something that’s yours?” His forehead brushes mine again, breath shallow, voice thick. “Then take it.”

I nod, lips parting, hands finding the hem of his shirt and dragging it upward. I take him in for a long moment, the sharp juxtaposition of ravaged, scarred skin on the right and utter perfection on the left.

This isn’t just a distraction. It’s a reclamation.

Of each other. Of now. Of the only thing we still control.

I’m not just trying to repay him. I’m trying to survive. With him.

And I’ll take every second he gives me.