Page 7 of Royal Deception (Royals of the Underworld #2)

RORY

I watch Clary leave, the shocked expression on my face morphing to something darker, something bitter.

What the hell was up with that? She’s usually a good little secretary, obedient and accommodating. I don’t usually see her complain or give me attitude, but today, she’s been off.

It wasn’t just simple frustration that led her here, either. Not with that full-on explosion she released.

I should be pissed. Hell, I am pissed. Storming off in the middle of the workday like she doesn’t answer to me? Like I don’t have the power to make her life hell?

But as I watch the office door swing shut behind her, the anger cools a little and I find myself growing impressed.

Clary’s always been a people-pleaser, practically a lapdog, eager for my approval, always ready to go above and beyond, but today, she didn’t roll over and show her belly.

She stood her ground, told me off. So reckless and thoughtless.

Even though I could tear her apart for it.

Some sick, twisted part of me wouldn’t mind putting her back in her place, but only if that meant getting her on her knees. That thought lingers in the back of my mind as I get back to work, hovering just around the edges.

Clary slinks back into the office an hour and a half later, but I barely notice because of the phone call that’s distracting me.

The voice on the other end of the line is smooth, even, the kind of tone that knows exactly how to control the conversation.

“I’m a representative for a potential client for you, Mr. Brannagan,” he says.

“My client is in the market for someone in your line of work and wanted to reach out to schedule a meeting.”

I lean back in my chair, my gaze flicking toward Clary as she settles quietly at her desk. She catches my eye for a moment then ducks her head, pretending to be busy with the file in front of her.

“What incentive do I have to meet with someone who can’t even be bothered to come to me in person?” I ask, twirling a silver-plated pen between my fingers.

There’s a pause. Then a quiet chuckle.

“Let’s not pretend we don’t both know the answer to that.”

I don’t respond, waiting.

The voice continues. “This client has deep pockets. Influence. And connections in the kind of circles your family has been trying to break into.” A measured pause. “Legitimate circles.”

Now, that gets my attention.

I shift forward, elbows braced against my desk. “Go on.”

The voice on the other end gives me a few vague instructions, asking me if I’m free to meet with the client that very afternoon. I agree, then write down the number that called me before hanging up and calling Clary into my office.

She approaches with slow, careful steps, her head bowed. “You wanted to see me, Mr. Brannagan?”

“Yes,” I say, holding the folded piece of paper out to her.

“You have a knack for tracking things down, so I’d like you to track down any information you can get on this phone number.

The caller’s repping a potential client, but he was cagey.

I want to know who we’re dealing with before I take them on. ”

Clary looks up and swallows before nodding vigorously.

“Of course, Mr. Brannagan. Right away, Mr. Brannagan,” she says, her words coming out in a rush.

It’s clear she’s relieved I didn’t call her into my office to berate her for her outburst this morning, and her cheeks pinken as she takes the slip of paper from me.

It’s only about an hour later that Clary returns, carrying a thick file into my office. She rocks back and forth on the balls of her feet, a flush on her face. I grin, pleased that she was able to procure so much information so quickly.

Reaching out, I take the file from her without a word, but our fingers brush and I inhale softly, shocked at the spark of electricity from the brief contact.

“I hope it’s enough,” she says, twisting her fingers together.

“I’ll take a look,” I say, waving her off with a quick gesture as I begin flipping through the file. Inside, there’s a large stack of documents with a background check, notes, and spreadsheets that paint a neat picture of our mystery client.

My pulse quickens as I take it in, reading the name at the top of the file.

Veridex .

It’s a biotech company that’s been making waves in Thornville lately.

The company specializes in everything from facial recognition to voice authentication, technology that’s not just useful in security but also poised to make a massive impact on countless industries.

The company has set up shop in a massive building downtown, a sleek iron and steel building with walls of glass and a twisting spire at the top.

I glance over the pages, noting that their portfolio boasts an impressive array of clients, both high-profile and corporate.

I read on, and the more I do, the faster my heart beats.

Their founder, Mark Veridan, is a well-known tech visionary.

The guy’s practically a local legend, especially in circles where Silicon Valley types are considered royalty.

Mark’s a household name around here, even if he’s not exactly known around the world just yet.

The wealth, the influence, and the sheer scope of his ambitions are all right there on the page.

I can’t help but grin as I scan through his background.

Mark’s the kind of man who knows how to turn an idea into a full-blown empire.

The works. If he’s as smart and driven as his resume suggests, working with Veridex could be exactly what our family needs to move from the shadows to the spotlight.

I lean back in my chair, the file resting on the desk in front of me.

This is it—the opportunity we’ve been searching for. A thrill of excitement shoots through me as I imagine going into business with such a high-profile client. Not only would this open more doors for us, but we could also leave our less-than-legal businesses behind entirely.

A part of me mourns the loss of the world our father built for us—the seedy backroom deals, the danger lurking around every corner. But if I’m honest with myself, I’m more intrigued by the places we could go from here.

Now that Kellan has a family of his own, the rest of my brothers might not be far behind. It seems like the right move to expand past the place where we dive recklessly and head-first into danger and more prudent to think of the long-term.

That afternoon, Mark Veridan and I meet at a new lounge downtown, the two of us sizing each other up as I walk into the sleek, modern establishment.

He looks exactly as I imagined—mid-thirties, dressed in a tailored gray suit that complements his sharp features. His dark hair is neatly styled, and there’s an intensity in his eyes that reminds me of myself. He’s hungry to make his mark on the world.

We shake hands, his grip firm as he introduces himself. “Mark Veridan,” he says, voice smooth. “But I’m sure you already know that. A little bird told me you had your people look into us.”

“You’re good,” I say, cracking a smile. “Very good. I’ve been following Veridex’s work for a while. You’re making some serious waves in the tech world.”

Mark laughs, a low sound that’s half-pleased, half-uneasy. “We try. It’s been a hell of a ride. I’ve got big plans for Veridex, but I’m not here to talk about that just yet.”

I raise an eyebrow, intrigued. “What’s on your mind, then?”

The two of us are led to a small booth in the corner, a private place for us to talk.

Mark clears his throat, glancing over the menu as he puts in his drink order. “I’ve got some concerns,” he says, his tone turning serious. “There’s been some threats made against us. I can’t get into specifics, but let’s just say that the higher we climb, the bigger targets we become.”

He looks down at the table. “We’re not always sure if we can trust everyone in-house, so to speak.

We need someone on the outside who can help ensure that Veridex stays secure as we push forward.

I want to expand into new markets, break into new industries, but I can’t afford to let anything slip through the cracks. ”

My pulse quickens at his words, but I keep my face neutral. Is Mark hinting that he’s facing issues of corporate espionage? That’s exactly the kind of thing that’s right up our alley. We’re used to handling delicate matters that others would rather not know about.

“I understand,” I reply, leaning in slightly, my voice low and calm. “But you have nothing to worry about. We’ve handled our fair share of high-stakes situations, and we’re more than capable of protecting your interests.”

Mark gives me a calculating look, the hint of a smile returning to his lips. “I’m glad to hear that. I need someone who doesn’t flinch when things get tough. Someone who understands the bigger picture.”

“I’m the guy you’re looking for,” I tell him, my tone full of confidence as I sit up straighter.

“You may have heard stories about the Brannagan family—about our connections, our resources. Rumor and innuendo are ugly things, but there’s often a grain of truth in them.

You can rest assured that we’re not afraid to get our hands dirty to protect our clients. ”

Mark nods slowly, his fingers drumming on the edge of the table. I can practically see the wheels turning in his head as he considers everything I’ve said.

Finally, he looks up at me. “I think we can make this work. I’ll have my team reach out to yours to get the specifics nailed down. But I want to move quickly, Rory. We’ve got an opportunity to make something big happen, and I’m not willing to wait around.”

I nod. “You’ve got my word. We’re in this together, Mark.”

“Good. Let’s toast to our partnership then,” Mark offers, holding up his glass. As they clink together, satisfaction hums through me. The Brannagan name will mean something soon—something more than whispers in the dark. This is the first step toward real power.

But my overeagerness comes back to bite me that evening when Lucky storms into my office, his face like thunder, fists clenched at his sides.

“You got us into bed with Mark Veridan?” he demands, shoving the door shut behind him. “Rory, I know you’re the boss, but that was a fucking stupid thing to do.”

I push back from my chair, rising slowly. Lucky’s taller than me, but I don’t let that matter. I straighten, leveling him with a cold stare. “Yes, I did,” I say, my voice calm, controlled. “Got a problem with that?”

“Yeah, I do.” His glare sharpens. “There are serious rumors that Veridex has ties to Volkov and his network.”

My stomach knots, but I don’t let it show. “That’s just fucking great,” I mutter before stabbing the intercom button. “Clary, get in here. Now.”

Seconds later, Clary steps inside, her frown deepening as she takes in Lucky’s stance, my expression. “What’s going on?”

“You tell me,” I snap, pacing behind my desk. “I asked for a full report on Veridan and his company. Why the hell didn’t you find anything about ties to fucking Anatoly Volkov?”

She blanches but stands her ground. “Nothing like that came up,” she says, voice tight with certainty. “I dug as deep as I could. If it’s true, then they worked damn hard to bury it.”

Lucky exhales sharply. “Well, yelling about it won’t change anything. We need to figure out what we’re dealing with.”

“Find out everything,” I order, my voice razor-sharp. “I want to know if Mark Veridan and Volkov have even pissed in the same bathroom together.”

Lucky nods, already moving for the door.

Before I can turn back to Clary, my phone vibrates—three sharp pings in quick succession. I glance at the screen.

We know about your meeting.

You’ve made a grave mistake.

There will be consequences.