Page 35 of Sins of Arrogance (Syndicate Sins #1)

MICK

Dierdre prattles on over the appetizers and I let her, waiting for the drug in the wine she's drinking to take effect.

It took more self-control than it should have to leave my wife naked on the bed. It helped that she decided to go to dinner after all and wasn't there when I came out of the bathroom after my shower.

If she still had been, being here would not be a given.

"I'm surprised Kara didn't mind you taking me to dinner." Dierdre plays with the stem of her wineglass and looks at me with what is probably supposed to be understanding. "She's very jealous of you."

"Why do you say that?" I hadn't noticed Kara acting particularly jealous.

At least not after my stupid attempt to trigger her into returning to her more affectionate behavior of our early marriage.

If you had asked me five years ago if I would miss it, I would have said no. A man like me doesn’t need affection.

In fact, I pretty much ignored the change in her behavior and when I thought of it, wrote it off as symptomatic of her postpartum depression.

It took another year before I realized the vulnerable young woman I had married was either gone or hiding pretty effectively behind the facade of the perfect mob wife.

"Oh, you know." Dierdre waves her hand and takes a sip of her wine.

"No, I don't know. Explain it."

She gives me an almost pitying look. "I suppose it's something you've learned to live with."

"That is not an explanation."

Dierdre blinks, her focus going hazy.

Good. The drug is taking effect.

"You don't have to pretend with me, Micky. I know how over-the-top jealous she got after the birth of your son." Dierdre waves her hand airily again, misjudges the distance and nearly knocks over her glass of wine.

I grab it and set it to rights on the table.

"Thank you. I'm not usually clumsy, but then you know that."

"What do you know about Kara's behavior after the birth of our son?" I'm supposed to be grilling Dierdre on why she's here and if her da or mine is working with Ilya Darakov.

But knowing how intrusively my old mob has been spying on me is not unimportant. Knowing what Dierdre has learned about Kara is crucial.

"I heard about her hissy fits. The way she demanded you fire one of the women that worked in your office."

"How?" I demand.

"People talk," Dierdre dismisses.

I flick my hand waving away the approaching waiter. "What people?"

"I suppose her insecurity is understandable. Kara's not exactly in your league now. And back then? Recently pregnant and unable to even try to service the needs of her very virile husband…" Her voice trails off in innuendo. "Well, you know better than I do how that must have played out."

"Who did you hear this from?" I demand again.

Dierdre shifts, pressing her waterglass to her cheek like it might cool her. "It’s not a state secret, Micky."

"If my people have been talking out of turn, I want to know it," I grind out.

I didn't appreciate how annoying I would find this form of interrogation with her. Things don't usually get to me.

More like never.

But as I've found with so many things regarding my wife, I react in inexplicable ways to the knowledge someone has been talking about her in disparaging terms.

"Don't worry. Your soldiers are every bit as circumspect as you expect them to be," she assures me with a measure of irritation.

Who has she been trying to pump for information?

I pour her more wine, pushing the glass toward her in a silent order to drink.

She obeys and takes a long sip before fanning her hand in front of her face. "It's hot in here. Is their aircon broken?"

"It's fine. If it wasn't one of our soldiers that gossiped about my wife, then who?" I want a name and what I want, I get.

Dierdre rolls her eyes. "Calm down, Micky. Brogan mentioned it when he was visiting last fall."

"I find that hard to believe." Would my father-in-law really be that indiscreet?

"Brian was complaining about Brigid again," Dierdre says, mentioning my sister. "She refused yet another marriage alliance, this one in London."

The fact my sister, at the age of twenty-seven, remains unmarried and unpromised is a source of consternation for my father. He'd have better luck waiting for his oldest granddaughter to come of age than try to push my sister into a mob alliance.

She wants nothing to do with that part of our lives.

"I didn't realize he was trying to arrange an alliance with a mob there." I focus on the truly pertinent piece of information in Dierdre's comment.

"Oh, it wasn't a mob. It was Greek mafia and your sister was having none of it. He couldn't threaten her with cutting off funds because she is self-supporting." Dierdre sounds bitter about that, but nothing is stopping her from using the degree she got from TCD.

And Oisín Kelly has never been stingy with Dierdre's allowance, even allowing her to have her own apartment.

"You never mentioned this to me."

"There's a lot I don't tell you," she says knowingly. "I can't be sure of your loyalties with you living here in America."

I was right thinking I need to cultivate other information sources within my old mob. Maybe my sister would be a good one. There's room there, to play on her discontent with our father.

"Anyway, Brian blamed Brigid's refusal on some teenage infatuation. She has a boyfriend."

And he's still alive? That doesn't sound like my father wanted the Greek connection all that badly.

"She refused to do her duty to the mob. Not like you." She shoots me a look under her lashes. "No matter how hard it was for you to leave me behind."

I don't confirm or deny her assumption. Letting her believe it without confirmation could be useful. "And what did Brogan say about Kara?"

No one could say my wife had not been willing to do her duty by the mob. She'd agreed to more than an alliance marriage to fulfill what her grandfather expected of her.

Dierdre blinks, her head wobbling slightly. "Oh, he sympathized. Said young people these days are ruled by their feelings. Mentioned Kara had gotten a bit overwrought after Fitz was born."

"Overwrought," I repeat softly.

She shrugs one bare shoulder. "He said it like it was funny. Pathologically jealous was the phrase. Said she thought you’d been cheating while she was in the hospital, but that she settled down and he was sure Brigid would too."

I was wrong. My father-in-law is pathologically indiscreet. How upset would Kara be if I cut out her da's tongue?

I wouldn't make him choke to death on this own blood like the stupid bastard I allowed Wraith to kill earlier. I can be merciful.

Dierdre’s smile sharpens. "Was she right? I wouldn’t blame you if you had taken a lover." She pauses. "Or still wanted one."

No question who she's suggesting to fill that role.

"I don't break my promises, Dierdre. You know that."

Her red tinted lips twist in a moue. "But forced marriage vows hardly count."

"They do to me." Regardless, no other woman appeals to my libido and hasn't since the first time I touched my wife intimately.

"Pity." Dierdre looks around with a frown. "Where's our food?"

I signal the waiter. He arrives to clear away the appetizers and place our main courses on the table, then melts into the background like he's been trained to do.

He's not one of the regular waiters for the pub. Despite being owned by the mob, I brought in one of the soldiers on my crew to do the serving tonight.

I don't want anyone overhearing what I learn from Dierdre and my men know how to keep their distance. And their mouths shut…unlike Brogan.

Fecker.

Like she's still thinking about it too, Dierdre says, "Brogan said you don't look at other woman, but your little child bride was convinced you did. That it made things difficult."

Kara's jealousy wasn't nearly as difficult as the depression that came with it after Fitz's birth.

And what she tried to do because of it.

What the hell was I thinking trying to make her jealous again?

Feckin' idjit is what I am.

"You never looked at another woman," she repeats. "Is that true, Mick? Not even once?"

"I already told you—"

"That you don't break your promises. I know, but that doesn't mean you don't want to."

"I don't want to." I let that settle between us while I chew a bite of perfectly prepared Kobe beef steak.

Yes, it's an Irish pub, but a good steak is a good steak.

"I bet I could change your mind." She pushes her shoulders forward, pushing her breasts together. "Remember how much you loved fucking these."

Shite.

I keep the distaste that washes through me off my face.

The drug lowers inhibitions, making people a lot more susceptible to suggestion and willing to speak freely. It can also result in a woman from my past trying to seduce me at the table.

I'm not even a little turned on right now. Nor am I embarrassed. I don't get embarrassed. But it's a good thing Dierdre's memory of tonight will be hazy.

Because if she remembers this, she will be embarrassed. And probably pissed. Rejection doesn't sit well with a woman like her.

Spoiled. Used to getting what she wants.

And that could make her dangerous, even if she's not here to spy on us for the Northies.

Ignoring her blatant attempt at seduction, I ask, "Why are you here Dierdre?"

"I'm having dinner with my very good friend." Her voice is low and flirty.

I manage not to roll my eyes. "In New York. What are you doing in New York?"

Her eyes widen. "I told you. I'm here to stay safe from the Odessa Mafia until my father finishes negotiations with them."

I measure the amount of wine left in her glass. Barely a swallow or two, which means she's already drunk two substantial pours.

We've been here for nearly thirty minutes and the drug is already affecting her, but it will be another fifteen before I'm confident her inhibitions are lowered enough to trust her answers.

Unlike Wraith, Dierdre has no training in withstanding drug induced interrogation, soft or otherwise.

We eat in silence as I wait for the drug to take full effect.