Page 3 of Royal Deception
Her insistence grates on my nerves, not because she’s wrong, but because I don’t have time for this. And maybe, if I’m being honest, because I don’t like the idea of her getting close to this side of things.
“You need to let this go,” I say, leveling her with a look. “Now go see if Senator Burns is here yet.”
Clary swallows hard, her lips pressing into a thin line before she nods. “Right away, Mr. Brannagan.”
Her voice is quiet again. Controlled. But I don’t miss the flicker of something in her eyes before she turns and leaves.
Minutes later, Senator Peter Burns strolls in, a polished grin firmly in place. “Rory,” he says, extending his hand. I stand up and shake it firmly, squeeze it once, and drop my hand by my side.
“I have reservations for us at The Regency Room,” I say, naming a place just down the block. “Or we could go somewhere else.”
“Fine by me,” Burns says, nodding as I lead him out, the elevator ride down filled with the quiet hum of strategy.
Once we’re seated at our table, drinks poured, the conversation inevitably turns toward the growing whispers of the governor’s alleged affair.
“Speaking of rumors,” Burns says, lifting his glass of red wine to his mouth, “I heard the casino deal has been killed.”
My eyes roll. “The damned casino deal,” I mutter. “It’s been dead in the water for a while now, but the final nail in the coffin was Nexera pulling out. They were supposed to be our biggest investors.”
“It seems like Anatoly and his ilk did a lot more damage with their smear campaign, then,” Burns says, tone placid as he steeples his fingers together.
“They made us look like common thugs,” I agree. “And there was that whole business with the investigation into our mother’s disappearance.” My voice drops into a mutter. “Fucking nonsense. It didn’t even lead anywhere. We know our mother ran off and left us.”
All it did was rip open old wounds, dragging ghosts from the past I had no interest in resurrecting.
“If you want to gain back your reputation, you need to give yourselves more legitimacy,” Burns says, taking another sip of his wine just as our salads arrive. “You have a lot more to offer the world than shady deals and backroom operations.”
I raise an eyebrow, leaning forward as I spear into a tomato. “What do you mean by that?” I ask, uncertain what he’s saying.
“I think you should start getting out of the petty criminal underworld,” Burns says. “Empires don’t belong to warlords, Rory. They belong to kings.”
Turning his words over in my head, I consider the proposition. “So you’re saying we could attain control of the city if we ran a more legitimate business?”
“Think bigger," Burns says, eyes gleaming. "Bigger than the media moguls, bigger than the families who buy politicians. With the right moves, the Brannagans don’t answer to power. They become it.”
The thought is intriguing. Bigger than the biggest political dynasty? They have a level of power and political influence our family could onlydreamabout. “You’ve got me hooked,” I admit. “How do we go about doing that?”
“Well, there’s a good market for private security firms right now,” Burns says, digging into his salad. “You offer protection to wealthy clients, celebrities, that sort of thing. People would paya lot of money for security from former gangsters because they know you know how to handle a threat.”
I purse my lips, reaching for my scotch as I consider the idea. Burns is right. Our image is shit, and this might be a good way to go about turning the tide in our favor.
But would the rest of the family go for this? Would I?
Getting out of the underworld isn’t something we’d ever even thought about. All we knew was running a criminal empire.
The idea of a lasting legacy lingers, but I can’t shake the feeling that nothing in this world comes without a price.
2
CLARY
I’ll never be more than an annoyance in Rory’s eyes.
The thought settles like a heavy weight in my chest as I tidy the stacks of reports on his heavy oak desk. It’s methodical, almost rhythmic, and it soothes the ache in my soul as I put the papers into neat piles.
The office is still quiet during lunch hour, and the hum of voices and the occasional whir of the printer from the main hall are muffled by the heavy door. Rory left not long ago for his meeting with Senator Burns.
I wonder if I’m the only one who notices the tension in his jaw when he thinks no one’s looking. Or if I’m the only one who can hear the subtle shift in his voice when something weighs on him. Not that he’d admit it.
