THE MAFIA REAPER CLAIMED ME

CHAPTER 18: THE ARRANGEMENT II

Cillian

Ronan set his glass down.

"This is getting unpleasant."

"Leave," Declan said.

Ronan stayed.

That was new.

Declan noticed it too.

"Valentina will run the moment Mateo is out of reach," he said. "You know that."

"Yes."

"And still you put your body between her and this family."

"Finn is not this family."

"He has our blood."

"So do rats in the cellar, probably."

Ronan made a choking sound into his fist.

Declan did not.

A knock came at the study door.

Mrs. Brennan entered with a chart under one arm.

Valentina came behind her.

She had changed into black trousers and a grey shirt. Her hair was tied up badly, strands falling around her face. She looked tired enough to fall asleep standing and angry enough to refuse.

My body noticed her before my mind finished the room.

My c**k noticed her first. It always did. The grey shirt clung to her breasts and the trousers sat low enough on her hips that I could picture my hands gripping them while I f****d her from behind against the desk my father was sitting at.

Declan saw that.

Wonderful.

"Your transfusion finished half an hour ago," she said. "You missed the repeat observations."

"I am in a meeting."

"I can see that."

She looked at Declan. "Five minutes."

"We are discussing family business," he said.

"His blood pressure is family business if you want him conscious for the wedding."

The last word came out flatter than the others.

She knew.

Eamon had made sure of it.

I should have said something.

I did not know what.

Valentina held out the chart.

"Sit down."

I remained standing.

She looked at me. "Please don't make this difficult. I am too tired."

That worked better than an order.

I sat.

Declan's stare sharpened.

Valentina took my wrist and checked my pulse.

Her fingers were cool. The marks Finn had left were visible above them.

I turned my hand slightly so I could see the bruises better.

She pulled away.

"Do not."

"Does it hurt?"

"A little."

"I will—"

"No."

She knew what I was going to say.

So did everyone else.

Her fingers returned to my pulse.

"Fast," she muttered.

"It has been a long evening."

"That is not a medical explanation."

"Neither is you walking into the room."

The words escaped.

Silence followed.

Not the satisfying kind.

The awful kind where everyone had heard exactly what I had not intended to say.

I meant it. Her walking into any room made my heart race and my c**k hard. I wanted her fingers on my pulse while I put my hand between her legs and made her pulse race for me instead.

Valentina's fingers stopped.

Ronan closed his eyes.

Mrs. Brennan studied the wall.

Declan looked almost pleased.

Valentina released my wrist.

"Your heart is as badly managed as the rest of you," she said.

Not a perfect comeback. Her face was too warm and she knew it.

She wrote the number down.

"Eamon left an order for another injection at midnight. It stays withheld until I see the previous responses."

"You do not set terms in this house," Declan said.

Valentina's pen stopped.

She looked at him.

Fear passed through her face before she hid it. I saw that too.

"Then find someone else," she said. "But do it before his counts fall again."

She handed the chart to Mrs. Brennan and turned for the door.

"Valentina," I said.

She looked back.

I wanted to tell her about Aoife. Properly. Not through Eamon. Not in front of my father.

Instead I said, "Send the results to my room."

Her expression changed.

Disappointment, perhaps.

Or disgust.

"Try sleeping in it," she said. "It makes finding you easier."

She left.

The door closed.

Declan waited.

"That," he said, "is why Aoife is here."

I stood again.

"Aoife will not make Valentina disappear."

"No. She will remind you that wanting something does not cancel what you owe."

Tires sounded on the gravel outside.

Ronan crossed to the window and moved the curtain.

Two black cars came through the gates.

Early.

Of course.

"What are you going to tell Valentina?" Ronan asked.

"Nothing tonight."

He looked at me. "That usually works well."

"She has no claim on this arrangement."

The sentence sounded worse aloud.

Ronan did not argue.

He did not need to.

The first car stopped beneath the portico.

A driver opened the rear door.

Aoife Kavanaugh stepped out into the rain.

I watched her step out and felt nothing but the residual heat of Valentina's fingers on my wrist and the hard, insistent ache of wanting the wrong woman in my bed.