Page 77 of Hostile Bond
“Your loyalty has always been strong, André. And it appears to have remained intact. Ask the kitchen staff to make your beautiful wife a meal. I’m sure you’re both starving.”
What the fuck?
André let that bastard threaten me with a bullet…in the same way Conal’s brother had murdered my mother. And now I’m expected to eat!
Whatever sick game they’re playing, I’m done. By the time Mick has returned to his pin tucked throne next to the fire, I glare at Conal and gather what’s left of my pride to storm out of the room before yelling over my shoulder.
“Fuck you!”
29
ANDRÉ
“She’s just like you,” my grandfather muses with a smirk.
I can be a levelheaded man when needed, but mostly, I’m rebellious as fuck. It’s the inherited tenacity of my father. He’s to blame and although I hate to admit it, he’s also the one to thank. And this motherfucker, my Irish uncle, has just stretched my patience.
Despite my intense fury, I had to keep my gun where it belongs. That was the sole purpose of Uncle Conal’s bold move—to test my loyalty. If I had drawn my weapon in our ancestral home, in the same room as my respected grandfather, to challenge his son, I would have drawn a line in the sand between us and them. Uncle Conal was never going to shoot her. I know that, but Sinéad––fuck, she think’s I’ve betrayed her.
I release a breath and roll out my shoulders, tilting into my uncle with limited self-restraint. “That will be the last time you point a gun at my wife. I’m loyal to this family and that will never change. However, if you try that again, it will be your mistake, and I’ll view it as an outright declaration of war. Don’t think I won't shoot you myself if you threaten her life, Uncle.” I grit my teeth at him, my fists twitching to knock him the fuck out. “You’ll show her respect in the same way I honor my grandfather, Don Hennessy. Sinéad is a Sicilian boss, a true ally to this family, and most importantly, she’s my fucking wife. Comprendes?”
Uncle Conal’s dead eyes narrow with displeasure. “You know the score, André. You’ve seen strategies like this happen multiple times. She might be your wife. But to us, she's a stranger who also happens to be the last person to see my brother alive.”
“And she’s also the last person to see her own mother alive.” I bite back. “She lost family too. Sean saved her and now you're doubting his risk was justified.”
“Itwasjustified. He clearly recognized her importance.” My grandfather continues to smoke his cigar while he speaks. “Your wife has my blessing and protection as a member of this family. The sooner she learns how leaders secure allegiance and trust, the quicker she’ll become rooted in our world. You understand those precautions, don’t you, son?”
I swallow hard. This is the end of the conversation. “Sí, abuelo.I understand fully. All I ask is that she’s not threatened or considered an enemy.”
“I admire you, André.” He pushes out of his armchair, the same one I’d secretly sat on as a kid, pretending I ruled the world. We’re toe to toe. Eyeball to eyeball. “You have big fucking balls, and your veins bleed undying loyalty. I respect that about you and always have. Didn’t you win her hand in a game of cards?”
“I did.”
“And she was happy about that?”
“We have history. We were able to move past it.”
“She might have moved past it when she was a nobody––but now she’s got resources and money in her corner. Never underestimate a woman with power.”
“Like Mama. She has plenty of influence, but you don’t point a gun at her.”
“Teresa is a Hennessy by blood and a Souza by marriage. She will always be loyal to her da. Your wife is Sapori by blood and Souza by marriage. Who is she loyal to?
“My wife is loyal to me.”
My grandfather nods slowly. “If your wife chooses to cross me in the future, it will be your balls I cut off and your veins I slice open… even if my heart breaks while I’m doing it. You remind me so much of Sean. Don’t take that away from me.” He reaches for my cheek. “I love you like a son.”
“She has no quarrel with our family. I promise you that.” I nod when his hand moves away, taking the opportunity to throw a pissed off glare at my Uncle Conal one last time, then storm out of the room to find Sinéad.
I drag a hand down my face, replaying my closing statement in my head, because knowing my wife, she has a major quarrel with me after that shitshow. I’d expected some sort of bullshit initiation, but pointing a gun at her. Jesus, fuck.
My boots pound the wooden floor, retracing our steps from earlier, but when I round the corner, my heart levitates. She’s sitting on the bottom step of the staircase, her knees huddled to her chest and her forehead resting on top of them.
“Sinéad?” I’m crouching in front of her in two seconds flat, palming the sides of her head to meet her watery eyes.
“Get your fucking hands off of me!” she hisses, shirking out of my light grip. “You do not have permission to touch me anymore, Dré.” Her breathing is all over the place and her lips have lost their pink hue. “I want to leave… right now. Where’s the helicopter? It's not outside and that creepy doorman won’t order me a taxi.”
She hiccups mid-sob and scrambles to stand upright, but the instant she holds her defiant chin to the air, her knees buckle. I catch her before she falls, and drag her off her feet, pressing her trembling body into my chest.
