Page 34 of Sweet Deception (Irish Kings #4)

Chapter Thirty

Riding in the passenger seat of Darren’s Aston Martin has become nostalgic. Weird, I know, but it’s been a long few days.

Never in my life did I imagine I’d be headed to mafia headquarters. What Darren calls the Gallagher estate —as if it belongs to a wealthy character in a Jane Austen novel rather than a notorious crime family—is back in the city.

I’m shocked to discover that he’s capable of driving the speed limit. He’s never done it before. It’s a little eerie.

I mean, if he’s afraid to get back to the estate, then how on earth am I supposed to be feeling? And not just because of those terrifying mafia cousins, Shane and Donal. But, damn, we just had one hell of a moment.

“I’m alone, Darren. Ever since I was thirteen years old, I’ve been utterly and completely alone. Just me.”

Ugh, I want to throw myself from the window of this sports car.

He was being ridiculous, so I finally just spilled the ugly truth.

Now I regret it. I want Darren’s help, not his pity.

Would he have kissed me like that, though, if I hadn’t told him?

Focus, Nika!

Petting Piro to calm my nerves is all I can manage for the first half hour of the car ride.

Darren’s sneaking glances at me again. But after the misery his abandonment put me through, I’m not eager to reattach myself to the man in any sense of the word.

However, that kiss back there is making it difficult. Very difficult.

Bozhe moy , that was intense.

If he hadn’t pulled away first, I don’t know how long I would’ve stood there, tasting the mouth of the world’s most infuriating male.

As if he can sense my mental strife, Darren’s deep voice cuts through the quiet. “Are you all right?”

I ignore his question. “So what is it your uncle has more questions about?”

“You’ve had contact with women who were part of rival families.”

“So?”

“Shane wants to make sure you aren’t a covert operative sent by an enemy to compromise us.”

Wow. That’s probably the most transparent Darren’s ever been with me. “If I’m able to prove my innocence to him, will the Kings help save Lucy?”

He doesn’t comment on that. So much for newfound transparency.

We return to uneasy silence, unsaid words choking the air for the duration of our drive.

Soon, the quiet upstate roads give way to the round-the-clock bustle of the city, and far quicker than I’d hoped, we find ourselves outside yet another imposing gate.

“What is this, Wayne Manor?” I smother a scoff in my palm.

Darren greets the man in a nearby security spire, and the gate splits apart before us. “Not quite.” He drives through a short tunnel, and then…

Holy… “This is where you live?”

“Impressed?” He almost sounds amused as he breaks right toward a barn-shaped building off to the side of the old-money monstrosity rising before us.

“It really is an estate.” I can’t keep the surprise out of my voice. “Honestly, it looks more like a small palace.”

“Hold your breath.” He navigates his car through a set of high-tech barn doors and into the shade of an enormous garage before whipping us into a parking space. “You haven’t seen the inside yet.”

This place is nicer than that crazy-beautiful suite he had in Vegas.

In this moment, I fully understand the kind of people I’m dealing with.

What was I thinking, infiltrating that wedding? And now I’m about to go face the man who runs this place, the man who this place belongs to? I’m paralyzed as Darren puts the car in park and climbs out. I don’t even twitch toward the exit. How can I?

I’m so far out of my element, it’s not even funny. The fact that I’ve come this far with my head still attached to my body is just sheer dumb luck.

When Darren figures out that I have no intention of getting out of his car, he comes around to my side and opens the door.

“Let’s go.” He offers his hand. “We’ve kept my uncle waiting long enough.”

I climb out of the vehicle, hugging Piro.

With one hand on my lower back, Darren leads me into the ginormous mansion he calls home.

I do my best to keep my jaw off the floor as I drink it all in.

Giant crystal chandeliers. Fine art worth millions of dollars.

Marble floors. Red carpets. What smells like gourmet food simmering in some two-thousand-square-foot kitchen, I presume.

Maybe that’s where Darren developed his culinary skills… growing up in this place?

We stop briefly in what appears to be a billiard room, though the space seems far too luxurious for such a pedestrian name.

After telling me to wait inside, he disappears.

At first, I think he’s gone to alert Shane that I’m here, but he instead returns to usher in a young woman with deep brown, gold-flecked eyes and hair the color of black tea.

She introduces herself as Kiara before immediately zeroing in on Piro in my arms.

“Kiara will take care of Napalm while we go talk to Shane,” Darren says.

I tighten my grip on my feline companion. “I can keep Piro . It’s fine.”

Kiara smiles, her eyes crinkling like my grandmother’s. “I promise he’ll be fine with me. I’ll spoil him rotten.”

While she appears sincere, I’m terrified to part with my little guy. I have no idea whether I’ll ever reconnect with him. With trembling hands, I surrender him to the eager Kiara, who does seem like she’s got a PhD in the ‘spoiling adorable creatures’ department…

Darren guides me to a sprawling staircase that would fit right in at Buckingham Palace.

We climb two flights up to the second floor and weave through a network of warmly lit, if completely intimidating, hallways until we reach the door.

It’s big, imposing, and guarded by two muscle-popping statues similar to the ones who were assigned to me at the safe house.

The men step aside to let us in, but before we go any farther, Darren turns to me. “I didn’t want to leave you, you know.”

My heart surges into my throat.

What the hell do I say to that? And why is he telling me now?

But then he pushes open the door to his uncle’s office, and we’re inside, once again facing the man himself.

“Veronika, I’ve been expecting you,” are the first words from the older man’s unforgiving mouth. Shane glances to one of two leather armchairs facing his desk. “Sit.”

I do as he instructs, folding my hands to hide their trembling. Darren comes to a position of rest behind me, still standing. Even with him there, this is the most terrified I’ve ever been.

Shane’s questioning begins, and it’s immediately obvious he’s a masterful investigator. His focus on my connections to and knowledge of their rivals is nothing short of surgical. Calculated to the nth degree.

As he probes the extent of my network—the women I’ve vanished, the electronic trails I’ve erased, and information on how I created new identities—I become increasingly exposed and vulnerable.

Though I maintain my composure every step of the way, I realize there are absolutely no guarantees about my safety.

I also understand no path forward exists that’s not paved with the simple truth.

Surely Darren would’ve told me if I had nothing to fear from this interview. Instead, his last words to me were grave, as if one wrong move could end in my death.

Throughout this interrogation, Shane regards me levelly and reveals nothing.

When he concludes his questioning, the room reverts back to horrible, exacting silence. I sit as still as I can, yearning to float away like a microscopic dust particle.

I don’t know how long the moment lasts— forever and a day— but eventually, Shane shifts to Darren.

“Keep her close. Her skills might prove useful.”

Bozhe moy. Monsoon rains of relief flood through me.

I passed the test.

But my reaction confuses me. I’m mollified by the prospect of being held captive by mafia men? And more of them this time?

That’s nonsensical.

Except…maybe not.

Whether I want to own up to the truth or not, for the first time in years, I’m not alone. I’m with someone. Stuck, yes. But he’s stuck with me too. I glance over my shoulder to find Darren looking rather blank. Almost like he’s in shock.

After meeting his eyes, I offer him a slight nod and try to suppress a laugh at the way his shoulders slump a little, like this is not the outcome he expected at all.

Maybe he thought I’d fight this.

The idea that my decisions might scare him a little is comforting. We’re connected whether we want to be or not, and it’s taking a toll on us. But maybe it’s doing something else too.

As Darren helps me up and back out into the hall, an ice-cold realization settles in my chest. Not once did Shane ask about the trafficked women.

He only cared about the information I possessed regarding those I’ve assisted, perhaps assessing how my skills could benefit the Kings.

The missing girls… Lucy…

They didn’t even factor into Shane’s equations. And that means…he has no intention of helping them.