Page 51 of Ruthless Savior
Padraigh's eyebrows rise slightly. In thirty-seven years, I've never spoken to him that way. Never challenged him so directly.
“Watch your mouth, son,” he orders quietly. “You’re speaking to your father.”
We stare at each other across the mahogany expanse of my desk, the air thick with tension and unspoken threats. Finally, he speaks again.
“I heard she tried to leave the property last night. That she used up resources and time that could have been better spent, trying to find her.”
“It took half an hour. She went for a walk too far from the house. We’ve discussed it.”
“So she’s clearly stupid.” His jaw tightens. “She’s a liability, Ronan. A problem that can be easily solved.”
“I’m not giving her back to him.”
“I’ve been talking to our associates. The people whose opinions matter at times like these.” My father’s gaze is unwavering. "The consensus is clear, Ronan. You're in an untenable position."
"Because I won't hand over an innocent woman to be tortured and raped."
"Because you stole something that belongs to Rocco De Luca, and now you're refusing to make restitution." His voice is matter-of-fact, like he's discussing the weather. "In this world, perception is everything. And right now, the perception is that you're weak. Emotional. Compromised."
“You hate what Rocco does as much as I do.”
“Yes.” His voice is flat. “But we’re not waging a war on his business. We’re settling a vendetta because he killed your wife and child. This girl is a distraction, a complication. It muddies the waters of why you’re doing this. Everyone from the council to the lowest man who works for us can agree that Rocco should die for murdering your pregnant wife. There are plenty of questions about whether or not it’s worth going to war over some girl who Rocco bought from a loan shark. No one will die for that, Ronan. Your reasons for taking out the Italian don need to be clear, straightforward, and they no longer are.”
“The Russians will back me.”
Padraigh gives me a level stare. “Ilya is on the fence. He doesn’t want to be dragged into this over some girl he doesn’t know. Rocco is foaming at the mouth because you’ve stolen from him. You're playing this all wrong. You're reacting instead of acting, letting De Luca call the shots because you're too attached to this girl to think strategically. You made a snap decision, and it’s complicated everything."
If only he fucking knew."I'm thinking perfectly clearly,” I lie, keeping my voice even.
"Are you?" He leans forward, his gaze intense. "Because I see a very simple solution to this problem."
I take a deep breath. "I'm listening,” I say, even though I know he’s going to tell me whether I want him to or not.
"You give the girl back to De Luca."
My teeth clench together. "Absolutely not."
"Hear me out." He holds up a hand. "You give her back, publicly. Make a show of it. Apologize for the misunderstanding, claim you didn't realize she belonged to him."
"She doesn't belong to anyone."
"In his world, she does. And in our world, what matters is that he thinks she does." Padraigh's voice takes on the tone he used when I was young and he was explaining some complex business concept. "You give her back, you restore the peace. The Bratva stays on our side. Ilya and the council see that you can be reasonable, that you're willing to make hard choices for the greater good."
“And then what?” I glare at him. “You’re asking me to feed an innocent woman to a monster.”
"And then you take him out on your terms, not his." My father's expression is cold. "She is nothing, Ronan. What matters is that you are seen as strong. That others see your reason for killing Rocco as revenge for your wife, not for a dispute over some worthless girl. Rocco will take it as an olive branch, and you can make your plans without him putting pressure on you. You can move from a position of power instead of reacting to his violence.” His voice hardens. "And if you can't see that, then maybe you're not ready for the responsibilities of leadership."
The words cut deep, hitting exactly where he knows they'll do the most damage. I've spent my entire life trying to prove myself worthy of his respect, worthy of the O'Malley name. But not like this.
"I won't do it." My voice is hard as steel, and my father’s expression reflects the same.
"You won't do it, or you can't do it?"
"Both."
Padraigh stands abruptly, his chair scraping against the hardwood floor. "Then you're a fool."
“Better a fool than a monster,” I bite out. “At least I have a conscience.”
