Page 23 of Royal Deception (Royals of the Underworld #2)

RORY

T he room is thick with tension as Lucky, Liam, Kellan, and I sit around the dining table, papers and notes scattered between us.

The overhead light casts harsh shadows, reflecting the storm brewing in all of us.

The gala is days away, and the Russians have been oddly quiet lately, but we’re still left in the dark on the specifics.

“Any word?” Kellan asks, his eyes scanning the notes, looking for something, anything, that could give us an edge. His fingers tap against the table, antsy with the weight of the unknown.

“No,” I answer, dragging a hand over my jaw. “But we know they’re coming. They won’t sit this out. They have to be planning something big.”

Lucky stands by the window, his arms crossed over his chest, tension radiating off him. He’s usually the first one to cut through the bullshit, but today, we’re all in the dark together.

“I don’t like this,” Liam mutters, leaning back in his chair, folding his arms like he’s been doing it for years. “We need to figure out what they’re going to do. We know they’re going to target the gala, but how?”

I nod, biting back my frustration. The silence from the Russians is more dangerous than anything. It means they’re waiting for the right moment.

But my focus drifts to Clary, sitting across the room on the couch.

She’s not involved in the conversation, but something feels off about her.

She seems tired, subdued. The tension in her posture is unmistakable, her legs curled up under her like she’s trying to curl in on herself.

Her gaze flickers toward me a few times, but she doesn’t engage so I don’t push it.

Once our meeting is over, my brothers file out one by one. I turn back to Clary, making my way over to her.

“You okay?” I ask, my voice softer than I’d intended.

She looks up at me, but there’s a distance in her eyes like she’s not fully here. “I’m fine,” she says, her voice quiet.

I frown. “You’ve been off lately,” I say, my gaze locking with hers. “What’s going on?”

She stiffens, her eyes darting away. The resistance is clear. It’s frustrating, and something inside me snaps.

“I’m fine, Rory,” she says, her voice devoid of emotion, but the tremor in her voice betrays her.

I step closer, lifting her chin so she can meet my gaze. “I know something is going on with you and I want to know what.”

She hesitates, and then it’s like a wall goes up. She shrugs me off, the familiar distance falling between us like it’s always been there.

“I said I’m fine,” she mutters, avoiding my gaze.

That’s it. I can’t let it go. I step back, the weight of the night pressing on my shoulders. “Fine,” I say, my voice cool. “But you don’t get to behave like a brat and get away with it. Come, you’re going to kneel next to me while I work.”

She doesn’t argue. She knows better than that.

I lead her to my study, pushing her down onto her knees to kneel on the pillow next to me as I get to work. The hours drag on, the only sounds in the room the clatter of my keyboard and her occasional sigh.

The tension is unbearable, and I can feel it hanging over us like a cloud. But she doesn’t say anything.

Finally, I stop typing, leaning back in my chair, my gaze shifting to her. She hasn’t moved much, other than occasionally stretching out. “Clary,” I say, pulling her up to sit in my lap. “Have you learned your lesson, Pet?”

“I’m sorry I talked back to you,” she says, not looking me in the eye. “I’m okay,” she adds. “I promise. I’m just worried about the gala. I want everything to go right for you.”

“Don’t worry about that,” I say, placing a curled finger under her chin to bring her mouth up to mine so I can give her a soft kiss. “I’ve got it under control. The Brannagans have always come out on top.”

Her eyes flicker with something—doubt, maybe—but she nods.

The next morning, the heavy tension of the previous night is still hanging in the air, but I push it aside as I dive headfirst into work. It’s all I can do to focus on something else—anything else.

When Callie arrives for the final meeting on the gala’s security, I force myself to be professional. Finn stands by the door, his posture alert, eyes scanning the room a little too often. I study him for a moment, noticing the way his eyes glance at Callie every so often.

I’ve never seen Finn look at a woman twice. Not since he lost Maura all those years ago. But the way he’s looking at her now reminds me of the way he used to look at Maura, back when I was little. I frown, hoping he’s not letting anything get in the way of doing his duty.

With a shake of my head, I push the thought down. Finn’s a good guy. I trust him. And Callie? She’s a client. That’s all. Nothing more.

“Good morning,” Callie greets, her tone cool and businesslike.

She’s dressed in a sleek black blazer, sleeves pushed up to the elbows, her black hair pulled back in a tight ponytail.

She gives off a vibe that reminds me of a femme fatale, like she’s ready to cut the throat of anyone who second-guesses her. It makes me smile.

I nod, gesturing to the conference table where I’ve laid out the final plans for her gala. “Let’s go over the final details,” I say, my voice low as I keep my attention on the documents spread in front of me.

We run through the security arrangements for the night—escorts, crowd control, emergency protocols. It’s business, plain and simple.

My eyes land on Finn again, and the way he stands there, rigid by the door, staring at Callie like he’s waiting for something… It makes me uneasy, like I’m seeing something I wasn’t meant to.

But I keep my thoughts to myself. Finn is a grown man, older than me, even. If something is going on, it’s between them.

For now, the job’s the priority. Callie’s safety is the priority. And I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure nothing happens to her.

“Rory…” Callie says again, her voice softer now. She looks at me with that mix of curiosity and caution, like she knows something’s off.

I hesitate, then lean back in my chair, trying to gather my thoughts. I should tell her about the Russians, about their threats. I don’t want her to worry, though, so I rack my brain trying to think of how best to address it.

Finally, I speak, keeping my words neutral. “There’s something I need to consider about the security situation.”

She tilts her head, her eyes narrowing just slightly. “What do you mean?”

I meet her gaze, trying to gauge whether or not to tell her everything. “It’s nothing you need to worry about for now. But someone’s made some threats. They might make a move at the gala. I don’t know when or how, but I’d be remiss if I didn’t warn you.”

Her expression hardens, but she doesn’t flinch. “You don’t have to sugarcoat things with me, Rory. Just tell me what I need to know.”

I feel the weight of the moment press down on me. “If they do show up, we’ll be ready for them. I’ve already planned for that contingency. But, Callie, you should be aware that there are risks involved. This could escalate quickly.”

Her eyes flicker, calculating, but she doesn’t shy away from the truth. “I’m not some fragile thing, Rory. I know the stakes. We’ll handle it.”

“We can still cancel,” I offer. “The launch can be moved back.”

“No,” she says firmly. “I’m not going to cancel. We’ve worked too hard to back out now.”

I’m surprised by the conviction in her voice. She’s always been professional, but this side of her is a little… badass.

I suppress a smile. “Are you sure?” I ask, wanting to make sure she understands the gravity of the situation. “Your stalker could make a move at any time. I could pull some strings and get you out of the spotlight for a while.”

But Callie shakes her head, a small, almost imperceptible smile playing at the corner of her lips. “I’ve been in tough situations before, Rory. I can handle this.” Her voice is steady, unwavering. “You don’t have to worry about me. I’m not some delicate flower that’s going to wilt under pressure.”

Her words surprise me again. I had no idea how much she’d been through before she’d entered my orbit. But from the way she carries herself to the strength in her eyes, it’s clear she’s no stranger to danger.

“I respect that,” I say, my voice low, filled with admiration. “You’re an amazing woman, Callie. You always have been.”

Her lips quirk up in a small, satisfied smile. “Glad you see it that way.”

Before I can say anything else, the door to my office opens and Clary enters, her presence instantly noticeable.

She’s in the mood to clean, it seems—starting with picking up papers and stacking them on my desk.

Her movements are purposeful, but there’s a subtle softness to them, like she’s trying to be unobtrusive.

As she moves past me, she lets her hand linger on my shoulder for just a beat longer than necessary. The touch is light, almost innocent, but I can feel it—a claim, a quiet reminder that she’s here.

I don’t know what it is, exactly, but something about the way she’s acting rubs me the wrong way. I swallow the tension rising in my chest as I watch her, feeling my control slipping just a little.

Callie seems to notice the change in the atmosphere but doesn’t comment. She simply exchanges a final look with Finn and gives me a nod. “We’ll be in touch, Rory,” she says, her voice cool but appreciative. “I’m sure everything will be fine.”

Finn offers a curt nod as well, his gaze flicking briefly to Clary before they both exit the room.

As the door clicks shut behind them, I turn slowly to Clary. Her attention is still on the papers in front of her, but I can tell she’s aware of my gaze, of the shift in the air between us.

I lean forward, my tone quiet but firm. “What was that about?”

Clary doesn’t meet my eyes right away. She simply shrugs, pretending to be absorbed in her task. “What was what?” she replies, her voice light, too light.

I don’t let her off the hook so easily. “You know exactly what I mean. The hand on my shoulder? What was that? Were you trying to mark your territory?”

She hesitates for a moment before offering a small, almost dismissive shrug. “It’s nothing. Just trying to be there for you, you know, since things are tough right now.”

I hold her gaze, my voice steady as I remind her of her place. “You’re not my girlfriend, Clary. You’re not my partner. You’re my submissive. And I need you to respect that role, in private or in public. Don’t ever do that again. Understood?”

Clary doesn’t say anything for a long moment, but I can see the way her chest rises and falls, the slight tremor in her hands.

Finally, she speaks, her voice tight. “I’m sorry,” she whispers, her eyes shining with unshed tears.

“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.

” She turns and leaves, hurrying out of the room.

I can’t help but feel a pang of guilt, watching her walk away. Frustration grates at me, getting under my skin. I upset her again, like I seem to be so good at.

But why does Clary insist on pushing my boundaries? Things between us are better left as-is. Why force this to become something it’s not?

This here is exactly why I don’t want a relationship with anyone. Work will always come first, and most women can’t understand that.

So why can’t she respect that?