Page 27 of Stolen Rival (The Stolen #1)

PATRICK

My wife’s behavior is exemplary. I keep watching and waiting for her to say or do something that will give Dylan cause to question my authority, but she’s the epitome of a mafia wife.

Attentive, respectful, engaging. It would be so easy for her to wreck my plans or at the very least put a significant dent in them, but I cannot find a single fault to hold over her head like a guillotine.

Either she’s coming around to her new reality, or she’s so terrified of the bodyguards watching over her brother and waiting for a signal from me to act, that she’s playing along.

For now. Which one of those people she’s decided to be is a mystery, but as long as she carries on charming my cousin, that works for me.

“She’s a fine woman,” Andrew says from his position on my right-hand side as he tucks into his dessert.

I’m taking heart from the fact Dylan seated me to his right and Sorcha to his left.

A bitter expression crossed Andrew’s face when he saw the seating plan.

It only lasted a second before he reformed his features into something far more befitting of the man who will soon be his boss, but I caught it all the same.

I was right about Andrew. He will need to be dealt with. Harshly.

And given how Dylan appears to be standing on the threshold of death’s door, I’ll need to put the man in his place sooner rather than later. Just as well I married Sorcha when I did. In other circumstances, I’d have spent a few more weeks testing her, but so far, it hasn’t bitten me in the arse.

I don’t trust her, though. Not for a single second.

“Indeed.” I dip my spoon into my dessert, my eyes locked on her as she charms the fucking socks off Dylan.

“Especially for a stand-in.”

It’s unsurprising Dylan told Andrew about Niamh’s death and the subsequent bloodbath between us and the McCarthys. Besides, he would have found out anyway. Our world is a small one and news gets around.

Regardless of that, though, his comment is meant as a put-down, and I won’t fucking tolerate that from my closest allies, let alone a man who Dylan might rate, but I never have.

He’s provided me with an opportunity to set the boundary and show him exactly where he stands in the hierarchy once I’m in charge.

A little earlier than I would have ordinarily, but I’ve never had many fucks to give, and if I did, I wouldn’t waste it on a man who is jockeying for my rightful inheritance.

“Your ambition is loud, Andrew.” I dab my mouth with a crisp white napkin. “The kind of loud that ends up face down in a ditch with my name carved into your chest.”

His mouth flaps open and shut, his eyes flared wide. “I’m certain I didn’t mean?—”

“We both know what you meant, and what you want.” I set the napkin beside my almost empty bowl and cut my gaze to his. “It’s time to face facts. Dylan won’t be here to protect you soon, so if I were you, I’d have a long, hard think about where your fucking loyalties should lie.”

Andrew bows his head and lowers his gaze. “My loyalties are with the Mahoney family. They always have been.”

“Glad to hear it.” Deliberately, I shift my position and turn toward Dylan. “Cousin, we should talk before you get too tired.”

“You’re right. I am waning.” He pats Sorcha on the hand. “It was lovely to spend quality time with you, my dear. You’re a fine addition to the family. A fine addition.” He motions to his nurse, but I wave her away and stand.

“I’ve got him. I’ll call for you when we’re done.”

Drawing his wheelchair away from the table, I push him from the room and down the hallway to his office. Once I’ve made sure he’s comfortable by the fireplace, I pull up a chair opposite him.

“Cousin, I’m sorry. I knew you were not doing well, but seeing you in the flesh…” I shake my head. “It’s a fucking cruel disease. How is Mairead coping?”

“Like you’d expect. Putting a brave face on it. It’s not like we’re strangers to grief.” He sighs and pulls the blanket lying across his knees a little closer to his stomach. “At least I’ll be back with my boys soon.”

“I’ll make sure Mairead is well taken care of.”

“I know you will.”

He closes his eyes, and his chin dips into his chest. For a few seconds, I think he’s fallen asleep, but then he lifts his head and rests it against the back of his wheelchair.

His face screws into a grimace, and he hisses, in obvious pain.

I half rise from my chair, on my way to get the nurse, but he puts his hand on my arm. “I’m okay. ”

“Maybe we should do this tomorrow. You need your rest.” I don’t want to do it tomorrow, but even I’m not so heartless that I’d force a man to talk business when he should be dosed up on meds and in his bed.

“No.” He draws in a shaky breath, letting it out slowly. “She’s perfect for you.”

My eyebrows flicker up. “Sorcha?”

“Yes. She’s got spunk.”

“Too much,” I mutter.

“No such thing. I’ve seen too many of my captain’s wives submit. They’re little mice, kissing their husband’s boots and never daring to speak out of turn. It’s boring. You need a woman to be your equal. Keep you on your toes. Like my Mairead does. Like your mother did for your father.”

It takes all my effort not to press a fist to my chest as a fiery burn scorches beneath my skin.

“You are a lot like him, Patrick.”

I nod, my mouth dry as soot. He’s right, I am. In looks, and in personality. God, I miss my father’s stoic guidance and my mother’s gentle touch. “What did Sorcha say to you?”

“Nothing out of turn. She was the perfect lady, but there’s only one reason a woman would marry the man who obliterated her entire family.”

“Are you judging my choices?”

“Not at all. I set the rules of engagement, and you followed them. But just because I insisted on a wife before I’d pass my business onto you doesn’t mean I want either of you to be miserable. If you give her a chance, I think that girl will be the making of you.”

How I suppress a snort of disbelief is beyond me. “The fact I murdered her family will always stand between us. I have no doubts about that.”

“Maybe, maybe not. She might not have been your first choice, but she’s the right choice.”

“You got that from conversation over stew?”

He laughs, then immediately launches into a coughing fit that lasts long enough for me to consider getting the nurse again. The moment I make a move to do that, though, he stops me for the second time, his grip on my wrist surprisingly strong for a man who appears mere days from death.

“I’ve got twenty years on you, Patrick. Trust me. I know what I’m talking about.”

Considering he holds the deck of cards I’m anxious to get my hands on, I don’t disagree with him. Whether or not Sorcha will make a good wife or always be someone I’ll have to watch like a hawk is not a subject worth arguing over, especially with someone so desperately sick.

“She passed your test then?”

“It was never a test. But you’re thirty-five and were showing no signs of settling down. I promised your father I’d watch over you if anything happened to him, and considering I won’t be here soon to carry out his wishes, this was the next best thing.”

“So, the business is mine?”

“It was always yours.” He reaches forward and pats my hand. “We’re family. But you should know that I had my lawyer add a codicil, which states if you and Sorcha divorce, or she meets an untimely death, the business will pass to Andrew.”

That puts paid to my idea to cut her loose after Dylan died. I should’ve expected he’d do something like this. Wily old bastard. Still disappointed though. Guess me and Sorcha are stuck with each other now. Till natural death do us part.

“There won’t be a divorce, or an early death.” Unless it’s mine, which isn’t out of the question .

“Good.” Another bout of coughing ensues. When it abates, his head droops to his chest. “I’m ready to go to my bed now.”

It doesn’t take long to locate his nurse.

She pushes him toward the lift he had installed in his property when he fell ill.

I wait until the doors close then pivot to return to his office, but on the periphery, I pause.

Sorcha hid her anxiety well, but she’ll be as keen as I am to know the business is mine, if only for thoughts of her own well-being.

I almost laugh. Have I lost the plot? Telling my brothers comes first. I enter Dylan’s office and, closing the door, I put in a call to Liam.

Triumph straightens my shoulders when I declare, “It’s ours.”