Page 46 of Ruthless Savior
I feel my father turn toward me as I tense. “What is he talking about, Ronan?”
I breathe out slowly. “This is about De Luca’s attack on my family. Nothing more.”
“But that’s not true.” Ilya’s eyes are cold. “I hear you have something that belongs to them."
“Ronan.” My father bites out my name, and Ilya raises his brows.
“Hmm. So you’ve kept it a secret. Interesting.”
I turn to look at my father, whose expression is as icy as the Russian’s. “There was a girl at the warehouse,” I say briefly. “Caged. I freed her and gave her my protection.” I look at Ilya. “That’s different. Nothing was stolen from a man who takes what shouldn’t be his.”
"Is it?" Ilya tilts his head. "From what we hear, this girl is nothing to you. Just some debtor who got caught in crossfire."
My father's hand tightens almost imperceptibly on his glass of vodka. I can feel his anger radiating from him like heat.
"What she is to me isn't your concern," I say carefully.
"But it is my concern when your personal attachments threaten my business." Sorokov leans forward. "De Luca has offered to restore our old arrangements if I convince you to return the girl to him. He doesn’t ask that I promise not to side with you in any other conflict. Only that I do not side with you in a conflict which involves his stolen goods."
"Your old arrangements." I let the contempt show in my voice. "You know he trafficks women? Sells them overseas? Eighteen- nineteen-year-old girls?”
"Business is business, Ronan. I don’t involve myself in those dealings. But we have business, all the same."
"No." I stand, my chair scraping against the floor. "Some things aren't business. And I won't give a woman back to a man who intends to sell her to the filth thathedoes business with."
Ilya’s expression is still cold, impassive. "Even if it means war?"
"Yes." I meet Sorokov's pale stare directly. "I’m not going to make a peace offering to a man who killed my wife and child. I’m not going to give a fucking inch. He doesn’t deserve shit from me, and he never should have had her. He can have handed over as much money as he wants for her, that doesn’t make herhis.”
The room goes dead quiet. Sorokov's expression doesn't change, but I can see the calculation in his eyes. He's weighing the costs, trying to decide if our alliance is worth more than De Luca's money.
"You are making this very difficult for me, old friend," he says finally.
"Then don't make it difficult for yourself. We’re allies. On your own, you’re weaker, as are we. Our relationship is mutualpower. Don’t change that over a few business dealings with a man who will be dead soon.”
Sorokov pauses for a long moment. “Then this needs to be resolved before it turns into war,” he says harshly. “If this spills over into my territory, if my people are hurt because of your… attachment to this girl, our relationship will change. I will not stand by your decision to keep her. It is my opinion that you should give her back.”
“Heard and understood,” my father interrupts. “I will talk with my son.”
Ilya’s mouth twitches. “Good.”
As we leave the building, my father striding just ahead of me, I can feel the storm building in him, the way it used to when I was a boy and had disappointed him in some spectacular fashion.
He waits to speak until we’re in the car, headed home. Then he turns to me, his expression stormy. "A girl, Ronan?" His voice is flat and hard. "You're risking everything we've built for a girl? Some nobody who got herself into trouble?"
"She's under my protection."
Padraigh looks at me like I’m a stranger instead of his son. “She’s a liability. A debtor? Someone Rocco bought? Christ, son, I don’t agree with his business either, but that doesn’t mean we involve ourselves in it.” He pauses. “How old is she? Young, I’d guess.”
"Her age is irrelevant."
"Is it?" My father’s jaw tightens. "Because from where I'm sitting, it looks like my son is making the same mistakes he made a few weeks ago. Ignoring his responsibilities to satisfy his ownfeelings.” He snorts contemptuously. “We don’t have feelings, Ronan. We don’t follow our desires. We do what is necessary. We do our duty. This girl should have been left where you found her.”
I feel my teeth grit together. "This is nothing like that."
"Isn't it? You neglected your wife, ignored the signs that she was unhappy, let her wander around unprotected until De Luca's men put her in the ground. And now you're obsessing over another woman who's going to get herself killed because you can't think straight."
The words are designed to wound, and they succeed. My father has always known exactly where to strike to cause maximum damage.
