Page 11 of Taming a Ruthless Heart

A string of curses flows through the earpiece before my father grunts, barely contained rage filling his voice, “That motherfucker.I always knew he was a snake, but this… When I first heard about his new alliances with the Camorra and the Mexican Cartel, I had a feeling it woudn’t take long for him to stoop to this level of depravity.He’ll never get back in with us.Our Syndicate abhors trafficking.It goes against everything we stand for.It’s a line we never cross.”

“I know,” I say, my own anger simmering just beneath the surface.“And we need to put a stop to it.Igor’s gone too far this time.”

“Agreed,” he says, his tone resolute.“Your brothers and I will call an emergency meeting of the Syndicate on your behalf.Igor needs to answer for his crimes.”

“Thanks,” I say, rubbing my forehead.“He’s coming for Alexia and her daughter.I have to protect them, Dad.”

Jack sighs heavily.“I understand, son.But be careful.Igor is a dangerous man, and he won’t hesitate to take you down if you get in his way.”

“I know the risks,” I say firmly.“I have to do this.I won’t let him hurt anyone else.”

“That’s my Dave talking,” Jack says.The warmth in his voice wraps around my heart.“Keep me posted.And, son… watch your back.”

“Always do.Learned from the best.”

His chuckle breaks the gloomy atmosphere.“You’re so full of it!”

I’ve missed his laugh.It’s become a rare sound since Mom passed.

“Thanks, Dad.”I hang up and lean forward, resting my elbows on the desk.

I know I’m walking a dangerous line, getting involved with Alexia again.But I can’t walk away, not when her survival depends on me.I’ll do whatever it takes to keep her and Rose safe, even if it means putting myself in the crosshairs.

I stand up, straightening my jacket.It’s time to take action.I head out of my study, ready to face whatever comes next.Igor may think he has the upper hand, but he has no idea who he’s messing with.I’ll burn his empire to the ground before I let him touch Alexia or Rose.

As I rev the engine of the Maserati, the roar of its powerful motor echoes through the quiet late morning air like a caged lion.We speed down the empty highway.My eyes keep darting over to Alexia, clad in jeans and a black blouse.She’s slumped in the passenger seat, fast asleep with her head lolling against the window, her chest rising and falling with each uneven breath.The dark circles under her eyes betray her sleepless night.

The only sound in the car is the rhythmic purr of this sleek machine.My fingers grip the smooth, cool leather of the steering wheel.The car’s vibrations travel through my body, the steady hum of the engine a constant rhythm in my chest.I feel each turn and dip in the road in the tightened muscles of my arms.My body is rigid with determination to reach our destination in safety.

I shouldn’t care about her anymore.She’s the one who walked away, the one who married Igor.But no matter how much I try to bury them, the memories keep coming back.

Sandy.

That’s what I used to call teenage Alexia—long legs, awkward smiles, and oblivious to how beautiful she was becoming.I was twenty-one when I first started noticing her, started seeing her in ways I shouldn’t have.At fourteen, she was too young, way too innocent for someone like me.But I couldn’t help it.She was everything I wasn’t but longed for.She was pure, untouched by the darkness I grew up in.And I was drawn to her like a moth to an open flame.

I remember the way she used to look at me, wide-eyed and full of admiration.Like I was someone worth looking up to.Despite her own family roots and their ties to the Syndicate, she didn’t know the truth.She didn’t know what I really was.And I couldn’t stay away from her.

At that time, she had no clue that her dad and mine had made an agreement years earlier.We should get married when she turned twenty-five and inherited her grandfather’s fortune.But life has a way of derailing the best-laid plans.Her mother died suddenly of a rare type of brain cancer when Alexia was fifteen.Inconsolable at the funeral, she clung to me like she was adrift in the fucking ocean and I was some kind of anchor.All I could do was stroke her back and whisper empty promises in her ear that everything was going to be fine.

It wasn’t.

Soon after the service, her father sent her away to boarding school.It felt like a piece of me had been ripped away.I thought I’d never see her again, that she’d move on, forget about me, and have a happy life away from the world I was trapped in.Part of me wanted that freedom for her...but I wanted it for myself, too.

My Sandy did none of that.She came back and everything changed.

She was twenty-one, more confident, and damn if she wasn’t more beautiful than I remembered.The moment we saw each other again, it was like a match being struck, igniting the old flame between us.We were drawn to each other, every touch, every glance pulling us deeper into something neither of us could stop nor wanted to.

For a while, it was perfect.She was mine.My Sandy.And for the first time in my life, I thought maybe—just maybe—I had a future outside the life my father had built for me and my brothers.Hell, even my little brother Nick had been able to cut his ties with the Boyles clan.Using our mother’s name, he’d built a successful career with his rock band.So I figured I could do the same.I thought Alexia and I could have something real, something that wasn’t tainted by blood and cursed by violence.

I started working my ass off to achieve financial independence.I bought a couple of hotels, which became a rapidly growing chain.For about two years, Alexia and I lived on cloud nine, planning a future together.We even talked about starting a family soon because we both wanted a big one.

But then she just walked away and married Igor Vasilyevich.Ivan told us she’d had a change of heart and that he wouldn’t go against her wishes.He said he loved his only daughter more than his own life.He even suggested my dad could put a price on his head if he wanted to, but he was not going to interfere.

Obviously, my father did no such thing and Ivan knew he wouldn’t.Igor and Alexia got married a couple of weeks later.

I tighten my hold of the steering wheel, my knuckles turning white as I take a sharp turn to the left.However, that’s not the reason for my body’s reaction.I can still see the photos Igor used to send me.The first was one of Alexia wearing his ring, smiling like she hadn’t just ripped my heart out.And the messages he sent—taunting me with pictures of her in his bed, telling me how perfect she looked wrapped around him.He would send them often and each time more graphic.He’d describe how her pussy felt around his cock during sex.He would say he counted the minutes until he could get home to his gorgeous wife and that she was always wet and ready for a hard, long fuck.

I grit my teeth as the memory of those messages burns through my soul like flames from hell.It was a punch to the gut every damn time, and there was nothing I could do about it.She’d chosen him.She’d married him.And I went all in, became the man my father always wanted me to be.The heir to the Boyle empire of crime.The leader of the Irish Brotherhood and head of the Syndicate after he stepped down.

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