Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 95046 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 475(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95046 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 475(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
Lorcan shifts his weight. "That's—"
"Non-negotiable," Jino repeats. "You don't like it? Walk away now. Both of you."
I stare at my cousin.
Relief floods through me so fast it's dizzying.
He's staying.
Jino is going to walk away from his legacy, from the Bavga family's judgment, from whatever safe distance he maintained before tonight.
He's going to stand at my side.
But not for me.
For her.
"Agreed," I say quietly.
Lorcan is shaking his head. "What the hell are ye bastards talkin' about? Sharing?" He's looking at me. "What the hell is this?"
"This is… whatever we want it to be, Lorcan. But before I explain that part, let me tell you what I got in return for betraying my family and giving up my biggest secret."
"Aye, it better be somethin' fuckin spectacular!"
I look at Lorcan. "Luca gave me Providence."
Lorcan's eyebrows shoot up. "Rhode Island?"
"The entire territory. He's been trying to clean up the mess there for years. Local Italian families are incompetent—bad leadership, shrinking operations, bleeding into your uncle's Boston shipping routes." I pause. "Luca needs someone competent to absorb Providence without starting a war. Someone who can work with the Irish mob."
Lorcan's expression shifts as he connects the dots.
"Providence is ninety minutes from Boston," I continue. "Two hours maximum, depending on traffic."
Jino exhales slowly. "That solves the logistics problem."
"It does." I turn back to Lorcan. "Which is why I'm formally inviting you into this arrangement. Permanently."
Lorcan opens his mouth, his face already forming refusal. "Giovanni, I appreciate the offer, but—"
I cut him off.
"This isn't a favor to you, Ó Fearghail."
His mouth snaps shut.
"This is my gift to Emmaleen." I look at her, still wearing my collar, still standing in Lorcan's borrowed henley. "She's endured five weeks of Jino's brutal training. Position drills. Denial. Punishment. Demerits for breathing wrong." I pause. "She's earned something I can't give her."
Emmaleen's eyes widen slightly.
"Romance. Softness. Worship disguised as discipline." I meet Lorcan's gaze. "She earned your chapel. Your prayers. Your gentle hands putting her to bed instead of leaving her broken on a basement floor."
Lorcan goes very still.
"Here's how this works," I continue. "Emmaleen lives with Jino and me at the new Providence estate. Daily training sessions with Jino. Nightly consequences from me." I gesture toward Lorcan. "And scheduled visits to your Boston warehouse as her reward for perfect submission."
He's looking at me like he's unsure.
He needs to be sure. Because I need him to give Emmaleen what I can't while she and work out what we are.
So I say, "She deserves you, Lorcan. I find your brand of dominance to be… theatrical. Not in my wheel house, so to speak. But she found your style to be…" I glance at Emmaleen again and this time find her blushing. "Explosive."
I walk over to her, take her face in my hands, look her in the eyes. "As much as it pains me to admit it, I can't do theatre like that."
Emmaleen laughs. "Of course not. You're completely different animals." She shifts her gaze between us, weighing, comparing. "You're an octopus, Giovanni. Just like me. Three hearts. We slip inside the smallest openings and suddenly we're everywhere, filling up all the dark empty spaces with light that only shines when we're together."
She turns to Lorcan, her expression shifting into something more thoughtful, eyebrows drawn together in that way that tells me her brain is about to spiral into some absurd tangent.
"And you," she says, pointing at him. "You're like… a swan."
I blink.
Jino makes a noise that might be a suppressed laugh.
Lorcan's face goes carefully blank. "A swan."
"Yes. Hear me out." Emmaleen starts gesturing, warming to her topic. "Swans are these elegant, beautiful creatures that glide across the water all graceful and serene, right? Very romantic. Very oh look at the pretty swan in the park." She pauses. "But underneath the surface, their little webbed feet are paddling like crazy. Just absolute chaos happening below the waterline that no one sees."
She looks at Lorcan with an intensity that makes him shift his weight.
"That's you. You've got this whole refined Irish aristocrat thing—the three-piece suits, the castle, the liturgy—but underneath?" She laughs. "You're paddling so hard you're about to take flight. Which, fun fact, swans are actually vicious when threatened. They'll break your arm with their wings. They hiss. They're territorial as fuck and will chase you across an entire lake if you piss them off."
Lorcan opens his mouth.
Emmaleen keeps going.
"Also, swans mate for life. Like, they pick one partner and that's it. Total devotion. They build nests together, raise babies together, and if one dies, the other one gets depressed." She tilts her head. "You're a monogamous chaos bird pretending to be a romantic poet, and honestly? It works for you."
The room is completely silent.
Then Jino laughs so loud, it echoes off the ceiling.
Emmaleen turns to Jino with that manic gleam in her eyes that means she's about to unload something completely unhinged.