Page 23 of Stolen Rival (The Stolen #1)

PATRICK

After a night spent tossing and turning, at three o’clock I give up on the idea of getting any sleep and traipse downstairs to my study. Settling behind the antique desk passed down through several generations from father to son, I fire up my laptop.

Might as well use the time productively.

I pore over the files I’ve spent weeks putting together which detail Dylan’s various business interests. My brothers and I might be his only living blood relatives, but it’s not a given that I’ll inherit his territory.

Not with Andrew hovering in the shadows like a vampire preparing to suck us dry.

Once the deal is signed, I’ll ship Andrew to Ireland where I can keep an eye on him.

If I were in his shoes, I’d be bitter as fuck to lose out on the immense power and wealth Dylan has amassed and just waiting for my chance to take what I believed was mine.

He’ll be no different. Besides, I’ve already selected my underboss to run the day-to-day U.S.

operations, a man who’s worked for me for a decade and one I can trust with my life.

All I need now is for Sorcha to play her part as we wait for Dylan to pass.

The latter is a given. The former… the jury is out.

She might have behaved herself at the wedding reception—if it could be called that—but there’s no way she’s found her submissive bone just because I put a ring on her finger.

She’s waiting in the wings to cause me the most amount of pain, and a meeting with Dylan is the best shot she’s got.

Of course, she’ll die if she ruins my plans, but I’m not altogether sure she cares. Cathal, on the other hand, is her Achilles heel, and I intend to use that to my advantage.

Floorboards creak upstairs, and it’s not long before a bleary-eyed Liam strolls past my office, pajama bottoms hanging off his hips, his bare chest on display.

“Put some clothes on,” I bark. “I’m expecting Sorcha down here soon.”

He reverses course, bracing both hands on either side of the door, his broad frame filling the space. “Sex is supposed to put the male species in a good mood, not a crabbier one.”

I glower at him. Not that my death glare will have any influence on Liam’s behavior, but that doesn’t stop me. “Put a fucking shirt on.”

“Why?” He grins. “Afraid your new bride will compare us and find you wanting?”

I shoot out of my chair and stride across my office, clamping my hand around his neck. “Don’t fucking disrespect my wife.” It doesn’t matter that he’s pulling my leg. I won’t fucking have it, not even from my brother.

He slams his fist into my arm, once, twice, a third time.

When I don’t let go, he brings up his knee.

I narrowly avoid a direct hit to my balls by swerving my hips to the left.

Fighting with my brothers is nothing new, but this is the first time it’s come with a violent urge to break his fucking neck.

“I mean it, Liam. It doesn’t matter how this marriage came about, she’s my wife, and I won’t have you marching about the house half fucking naked, nor talking shit about her.”

“Jesus Christ.” He shoves me in the chest, and I let him go. “You need a sense of humor transplant.”

“And you’ll need a set of new teeth if you don’t put a fucking shirt on .”

Flipping me off, he pivots and bounces up the stairs hopefully to get fucking dressed. I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose. The day hasn’t even begun yet, and already I’m knackered, my temper on a knife edge.

That’s what you get for being your version of a gentleman, dickhead.

I’d gone to Sorcha’s room last night with the intention of making her mine in every sense of the word, but one look at her pale face and the slight tremble to her chin, and I’d changed my mind.

There’s plenty of time to show her what being my wife entails, and regardless of my reputation, I’m not in the habit of forcing women to fuck me.

When I do take her, fighting me off will be the last thing she’ll want to do.

I pick up the pile of papers and slide them into the zipped pocket of my carry-on bag. Once we’re on the plane, I’ll read them again, although by now I could probably recite the facts and figures from memory. Still, it doesn’t hurt to over-prepare, not when there’s so much at stake.

Leaving my bag in the hallway, I make my way to the kitchen and flick on the kettle. As I’m pouring boiling water into the teapot, Liam appears again, this time clothed. I motion to the pot, and he nods, dragging out a chair at the kitchen table and flopping into it.

“What time are you leaving?”

“Seven.” I make the tea and push his mug across the table, taking the seat opposite his.

“Feel ready?”

“Yeah. If anything, I’m over-prepared.”

“That’s good.” He takes a sip. “Sure you don’t want me or Darragh to tag along?”

“No. It’s better if it’s just me and Sorcha. I don’t want this to feel like a business trip.”

“Makes sense. Let him see you’ve held up your end of the bargain, and he can hold up his.”

“Exactly.” I slurp from my mug.

“You think she’ll behave?”

“Yeah, I do. Otherwise, I’ll be bringing her back in a body bag.”

“Thought it was black widows who fuck then kill?” His shit-eating grin scrapes on my few remaining nerves, but getting a reaction is what he wants, and I’ve already caved once this morning.

This is how it is with us, especially me and Liam.

Push and pull. Act and react. It’s our version of love, which only got more antagonistic after our parents died, and there was no more Dad to leap in the middle of us, hands braced on our chests to keep us apart.

A sharp pain digs into my chest, familiar yet unwelcome. “You know, maybe pay more attention to your own love life rather than fixating on mine.”

His hearty laugh echoes around our farmhouse-style kitchen. “Brotherly interest, that’s all. At least she didn’t bite off your dick. Or maybe she did, and that’s why you’re so pissy.”

I heave a sigh. “You’re thirty-three, Liam. ’Bout time you fucking acted like it. ”

He laughs again. “I’m eternally youthful.”

Ignoring him, I finish my tea and get up to refill my mug.

As I do, movement in the hallway catches my eye.

I glance through the open kitchen door at Sorcha carefully placing her bag next to mine.

The digital clock on the oven reads six thirty-three.

Fuck me. I’d expected her to be late, even by a minute or two.

Could the tide be turning and she’s finally ready to accept her fate?

It’d make my life easier, that’s for sure.

She hovers on the periphery, nibbling on the skin around her thumb.

“Tea?” I ask.

She nods.

Liam gets up and pulls out a chair for her next to mine, then returns to his seat. She accepts the silent invitation—which, in fairness, is more like an order—and sits.

I refill my mug and make her a cup. As I sit, my leg brushes hers. She flinches as though burned and shuffles a few inches to the left. Liam’s brow arches in a silent question I have no intention of answering.

“How did you sleep?” I ask.

She hitches a shoulder. “Okay.”

“Are you hungry? We have time to grab a quick bite before leaving for the airport. Or we can get something in the lounge.” I’m not usually prone to thinking nor caring about anyone’s comfort, but I figure there’s a better chance of her behaving if I at least attempt to act like a human being.

“I’m not hungry.”

“You didn’t eat much yesterday, either. You’re not sick, are you?”

Drawing her cup toward her, she hooks two fingers through the handle and picks it up. “I’m not sick.”

Okay then. Monosyllabic it is. Now that I excel at. Getting up, I open the cupboard above the dishwasher and pull out a packet of tea cakes I found in her bag when I took her from her house. I toss them on the table.

“In case you change your mind.”

Her eyes flare, only for a second, then she reaches for the snack and pulls it toward her.

Seconds later, the packet is open, and she’s eaten three on the bounce.

An odd sense of satisfaction crawls through my chest, not because I caught her in an obvious lie, but that she now won’t have to deal with a rumbling stomach on top of everything else I’m putting her through.

It’s an odd moment of softening toward a woman who, for all intents and purposes, is a means to an end. It’s not a feeling I’m familiar with, and it’s likely this will be the only instance it happens this decade, but the way she wipes her mouth and sighs makes me glad I bothered.

At a few minutes to seven, I gather our cups and put them in the sink.

“Time to go.”

Obediently, she stands, moves into the hallway, and puts on her coat. I catch Liam’s eye. He gives me two thumbs up and a wink. “Check in when you get there.”

“Will do. Any problems, you know how to get hold of me.”

“There won’t be any problems.”

I hope not. Two influential families might’ve been wiped out in the last couple of weeks, but in our business, there are always more threats waiting in the wings. Although it’ll take a while before any of them have enough strength and depth in their ranks to mount a real challenge.

Sorcha picks up her case. I peel it from her fingers, pick up mine, too, and exit through the front door. My car and driver are already outside waiting for us. I hand him our luggage and hold the door open for Sorcha. Once she’s situated, I close it, walk round the boot, and get in the other side.

Once our belts are snapped into place and the car noses through the gates, I turn to look at her.

“Do you have any questions about our trip?”

“No.”

“Just take your lead from me and you’ll be fine.”

Without responding, she looks out the window. A ripple of irritation settles under my skin. I prefer her talking back to this silent treatment she seems to have decided is her new strategy.

Reaching into my pocket, I withdraw my phone. “I have something to show you.”

Given this compliant little wife routine she’s playing, I probably don’t need to do this, but it won’t hurt to score the line in the sand a little deeper.

I pull up the feed and show her my phone screen.

Her eyes flare as she takes in the livestream video of her brother’s room at his care home, and the burly man stationed beside his bed as he sleeps.

“Who’s that?” She can’t hide the fear in her voice. Good. A healthy dose of fear is exactly what I need and expect.

“I thought as we weren’t going to be here for a few days, it was a good idea to give your brother a little more… protection.”

“Protection, or endangerment?”

A smile pulls at my lips. “That all depends on you, mo mhuirnín . If things go well with my cousin, and you play your part, then Cathal gets to make a new friend. On the other hand, if you were getting any ideas to fuck up several months of planning, all it will take is one phone call and…” I draw my forefinger across my throat.

She swallows, her throat bobbing with the effort. “I told you I understand what’s expected of me.”

“Good.” I return my phone to my pocket and reach for her hand, settling it on my thigh.

She flexes her fingers, her shoulders tightening.

“Lesson number one. Flinching when your husband touches you doesn’t send the right message.

You have seven hours to eliminate that reaction, which you’re perfectly capable of considering you consented to my kiss at our wedding. I suggest you start practicing now.”

She blinks several times and, biting her lip, spends the rest of the journey staring out of the window.

She doesn’t pull her hand from mine, though. I call that progress.