Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 83994 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83994 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
As Dad’s health takes a turn, I’ve been stepping up to cover for him.
But it’s about more than just the daily operations. I need to make sure our captains and associates see me as the rightful heir. When Dad passes, I don’t want to risk any upheaval, resistance, or violence.
The last thing we need is a fucking civil war.
So I answer emails. I reach out to clients, both legit and less-than-legit, and I show strength.
If problems come up, I resolve them as quickly and efficiently as I can.
I make damn sure that everyone knows I’m in charge.
Sometimes I’m jealous of my brothers.
Seamus is our street boss. He’s out there with the soldiers doing the actual grind. Cormac runs our spy network and assassination squad. He used to be our one-man killing machine, but ever since he started a family, he’s been transitioning to a new role. He spends his days fighting our enemies and ensuring all our supply routes and shipping containers are protected.
While I answer more fucking emails.
After an hour, the coffee’s not working anymore. I hit the buzzer button, and Casey appears in my office door a moment later. “Come inside and take a seat.”
She does as instructed. My wife sits with her back straight, her hands folded in her lap, like she’s done a thousand times before. But today she’s gazing straight into my eyes with a lot more confidence than I remember.
“You snore,” she says.
I go very still and narrow my eyes. “Excuse me?”
“I heard it last night. You snore.”
“I don’t snore. You must’ve heard the neighbor.”
“Sounded like a chainsaw was cutting down a tree in your room.”
My jaw twitches. “Is that how you normally talk to your boss?”
She shrugs and glances at her nails. I can tell she’s trying not to smile. “Not normally.”
“Just because we’re engaged, you think you can behave differently?”
“I know I can.” That smile finally breaks through. “What’ll you do? Fire me?” She crosses her legs, totally at ease, and leans back. I glance at her thigh and feel a slight ripple in my chest. “You’re still going to pay me no matter what.”
I take a moment to recalibrate.
She’s absolutely correct. I could fire her—and frankly, I really should—but it’s not like she’d be out of my life forever. I’d still find her at home making a mess of things and lounging around the house.
I’ve been patient. The girl lost her best friend. But my god, I don’t think she knows how to close a drawer to save her life. It’s madness. She treats them like shelves with walls. Drives me insane.
For the past two years, Casey’s been a loyal and competent employee. She’s been smart, hardworking, and polite. This is the first time she’s ever talked to me with anything but professionalism and respect.
I’m not sure I like it.
“Do you like working here?” I cross my arms and match her casual pose.
“It’s not bad. The pay’s been good. The boss—” She wags a hand side to side. “He’s hit or miss.”
I stare at her, not smiling. “Then why are you still here?”
She falters. Some of her bravado fades. “I don’t know. I mean, I’m still your assistant. We haven’t discussed anything else.”
“I think you want to be here. Otherwise, you would’ve quit.”
“That can’t be right.”
“Then why are you here, Casey?” I slowly stand and come around my desk. She stares at me, that smirk completely gone. I lean back in front of her, and I like how she looks up into my eyes, her mouth slightly open. “For now, you’re still my employee. Which means I demand respect.”
“You can’t demand it. You have to earn it.”
“Don’t quote motivational posters at me. If you’re going to sit at that desk and continue to act as my executive assistant, you will not let our personal relationship affect your professional conduct. Do you understand me?”
She straightens slightly. “Maybe I should quit.”
“Maybe you should. You could easily stay back at my apartment.”
“Our apartment.”
“But you’re here, and while you’re here, you will respect me.”
Her jaw works. I can tell she’s struggling with this. Honestly, if I were in her position, I would get up, storm out, and never show my face in this office again.
Instead, she straightens again. “What do you need from me, Mr. Whelan?”
A little excited spark burns in my guts.
I really like it when she calls me that.
It’s almost as good as sir.
“You know my father’s sick. My mother doesn’t think he has much time left. Before he passes, I need to consolidate my power to ensure a smooth transition of power. That means I have to take meetings.”
“Meetings?” she asks sheepishly. “I thought you were, you know, a crime family. Can’t you just… kill everyone who doesn’t do what you say?”
“I could, but that would make me very bad at my job. I’m a leader, Casey, not a mass murderer. I gain consensus and take charge through actions, not through coercion. Although I will go to those extremes if needed.”