“So, was I correct in my assumption as to why I was brought here?” Felix was deliberately less that respectful in tone, knowing how much it pissed the older man off. If nothing else, it ensured Bart’s attention was diverted from thinking about Brianna and fixed firmly on Felix for a while.
Bart, having sent instructions for dinner to be prepared for the three of them, now made himself comfortable in the chair behind the wide mahogany desk that dominated his wood-paneled-wall study. “It does if your assumption is that I no longer have anyone capable of laundering money for me.”
“Why would I even consider doing that for you?” Felix deliberately slouched in the chair opposite. “Neither I nor any of my brothers were acquainted with you or your now-deceased financial adviser and accountant when she fell to her death.”
“They were very much involved by the time her son died.”
“Because he was killed in a building owned by my brother Darius. By one of the two men acting under your instruction, I might add,” Felix stated firmly.
“And witnessed by the young woman who has since married your twin brother.”
This man knew altogether too much about Felix and his family for comfort. “Nikolai Volkov explained that situation to you when he returned the item you were looking for in Giles Fletcher’s apartment.”
“An occurrence which I didn’t then, and still don’t, appreciate,” Bart bit out. “The less I have to do with the Russian bratva, the better I like it. That bastard Nikolai Volkov in particular,” he added with distaste.
Felix filed away the knowledge for possible future use that Bart was wary of, possibly even feared, Nikolai. Which, knowing of Nikolai’s cold and ruthless reputation that had earned him the name on the streets as the Wolf, was very wise of the older man.
“Surely it was better than having all your financial dealings fall into the hands of the law?” he prompted.
“Only slightly,” the other man acknowledged grimly. “But we’ll move on from that for now,” he added as Felix would have spoken. “I’m obviously in need of the expert services of someone with your capabilities.”
Felix’s top lip curled. “I act within the law, not outside of it.”
“You did,” the mobster stated evenly.
“I still do,” Felix insisted.
The older man shrugged. “Perhaps you just need a little time to think about it.”
“No amount of thinking is going to change the fact that I have no desire to work for you. In any capacity.”
“That’s a pity.”
The other man’s calm expression gave Felix an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. “Why?” he prompted warily.
“Because it means I’ll have to find someone else.” He grimaced. “After I’ve given my future daughter-in-law the beating she deserves for having talked to an outsider about the Family’s business, of course,” Bart added in a hard voice.
Fuck.
Fuck, fuck, fuck!
“You’re a bastard,” Felix bit out.
Bart smiled slightly. “It has been mentioned before.”
“I’ll just bet it has.” He sat up, his hands clenched into fists. “I’ll still need time to think about your offer.” Even a few hours away from here would give him the opportunity to talk to his brothers and come up with a plan to facilitate Brianna’s escape. Refusing to work for Bart would become superfluous once the mob boss discovered what he’d done.
“You have until this time tomorrow.” The older man smiled. “While I’m waiting for your answer, I’ll take great pleasure in punishing Brianna. I’ll probably be so aroused afterward that I’ll need to—”
“Okay, I’ll fucking do it!” Felix glared his frustration with giving this man what he wanted, even for a short time.
“Better,” Bart approved smugly.
“But I’m still leaving here tonight after we’ve eaten dinner.” He was only staying that long because he needed to see Brianna again. Hopefully, he would be able to find the opportunity to reassure her he was coming back for her.
“Of course.” Bart nodded. “But only after you’ve signed an NDA contract preventing you from discussing anything that happens within this household or any of my business dealings.”
Felix’s expression was one of complete disbelief as he stared at the other man. “You’re a criminal. A mobster. Why would a signed NDA between the two of us put me under any obligation not to reveal your secrets to the first member of the law I meet?”
Bart eyed him steadily for several seconds before he clearly enunciated, “Brianna.”
Felix’s nostrils flared. “You—”
“You really should know better than to reveal a weakness to your enemy,” the other man advised mildly.
That only applied until after Felix got Brianna away from here. After that, it was open season on Bart and the Doyle brothers.
“Although I advise you to keep your…interest in Brianna to yourself when you’re in the presence of my son,” the other man added dryly. “He never learned to share his toys with anyone but me.”
“Brianna isn’t a toy!”
Bart gave a confident smile. “She will be.”
“Your son is currently in prison.”
“But he’ll be free in time for his wedding in four days’ time,” Bart senior informed him confidently.
The wedding was taking place that soon?
All the more reason for Felix to get the hell out of here and start making his own plans to extricate Brianna from this situation. Along with finding somewhere safe for her to stay once she was free. With the Irish and London Mobs looking for her, it would need to be somewhere safe. Impregnable.
Somewhere like Kingston Manor, the family home in Surrey, which had enough security, high tech, and men on the ground to keep out several mob bosses and all their men.
When that happened, Anthony Bart would learn exactly how weak Felix wasn’t.
He eyed Bart coldly. “I’d like to freshen up before dinner.”
“Trying to impress my daughter-in-law?” the other man mocked.
“Brianna can’t be called that until after she’s married to your son,” Felix challenged right back.
All humor left Bart’s expression. “Which she will shortly be, or there will be blood running in the streets. Including your own and your family’s.”
Felix calmly straightened the cuffs of his shirt beneath his jacket as he stood, that outer calmness hopefully revealing none of the inner fury he felt toward this man.
He knew without a doubt that his brothers and cousin would feel exactly the same way he did about teaching this arrogant bastard and his vicious son a lesson. Their own paths to a happily ever after hadn’t exactly been trouble-free.
“I’ll bear your threats in mind,” Felix dismissed. “Now, could you direct me to the nearest bathroom? I need to try to wash some of the dirt off my hands.”
The older man leaned back comfortably in his chair. “Your insults don’t bother me, Kingston.”
“Pity.”
Bart’s mouth quirked before he called out, “Danny!” He waited until the door opened and a man—obviously Danny—stood there waiting for instructions. “Show Mr. Kingston to a bathroom and then bring him to the dining room. But don’t let him out of your sight,” he continued in a hard voice. “I would hate for him to leave before I’ve had the opportunity to enjoy more of his company.”
“Strangely, I feel the exact opposite about spending more time in yours,” Felix dismissed before following Danny from the room.
His thoughts were already concentrated on looking for a way in which he might alert Brianna to the fact that he had no intention of simply abandoning her to a marriage with a man who enjoyed beating women.
A resolve which deepened after he’d given one glance at Brianna, when she was escorted into the dining room a few minutes later by Beefy. The man’s arm was now in a sling, the expression in his eyes malevolent when he looked at Felix.
Felix ignored him as he continued to look at Brianna, knowing from the redness of her eyes and the blotches on her cheeks that she’d been crying since he last saw her.
Because of something Beefy had done?
The continued mental anguish she must feel after the beating one of her brothers had given her?
Or because of the general helplessness she must feel over her situation?
Whichever it was, Felix had no intention of allowing her suffering to continue any longer than was absolutely necessary.
* * *
Brianna could feel the tension between Anthony Bart and Felix Kingston the moment she entered the dining room. The older man was seated at the head of the table, Felix to his right.
That tension seemed to consist of a simmering anger on Felix’s part, and a smug satisfaction on the older man’s.
She’d felt refreshed after taking a shower and washing her hair, but finding something clean to wear hadn’t been as easy. A more thorough look at the clothes Bart had provided for her showed they were all skimpy shirts and figure-hugging tops. The only clothes Brianna could even consider wearing were those that had obviously been provided for her to sleep in: a pair of gray sweats and a black T-shirt. She’d also found a hairbrush beneath the pile of clothing she hadn’t realized was there, so she was finally able to brush her hair too.
She still felt more exposed than was comfortable, but being able to wear clean clothes proved more tempting than stubbornly continuing to wear the clothes she had been wearing when they brought her here from Ireland.
“Sit the fuck down,” Bart instructed impatiently as she hovered near the doorway.
Brianna’s jaw tightened. “I’m a person, not your fecking pet,” she shot back resentfully as she crossed the room.
Pale eyes narrowed. “You should be aware I’m noting down even the slightest impertinence on your part toward me.”
Her chin rose. “I wouldn’t have expected anything less. But perhaps you should bear in mind the fact that even though both my brothers are scum, my surname is still Doyle, and I’m the only daughter of Aiden Doyle.” She pulled out the high-backed dining room chair.
“Here, let me.” Felix stood to move round the table and pull back the chair on Bart’s left for her to sit in.
“Your father is dead, and apart from you being a pawn in our little game, neither of your brothers gives a fuck about you,” Bart scorned.
“But the rest of my family do. Aiden has a sister, and she doesn’t like or trust Connor,” she challenged before giving Felix a tight smile as she stepped in front of the chair. “Thank you.”
“No problem,” he assured as he bent to place his hands where Brianna had grasped the sides of the chair.
“Aiden’s sister wisely doesn’t interfere in mob politics,” Bart dismissed.
He was right, of course. Although Brianna thought her Aunt Bridget might have something to say once she learned what Connor and Liam had done to her. “Time will tell if that’s true,” she answered Bart enigmatically as Felix pushed the chair forward so she was sitting closer to the table.
Which was when Brianna felt something being pressed into her hand.
It only took a second or two, but Brianna had to physically stop herself from tensing at the feel of something small and square being pressed against her palm. Her fingers instinctively closed about it.
Only for her to stiffen warily, her heart feeling as if it had jumped into her throat, when she looked up and saw how intensely Anthony Bart was now watching the two of them. As if suspected—
“I trust you’re going to try a little of all the different foods before expecting me to do the same?” She deliberately drew the older man’s attention away from Felix as he straightened behind her chair and onto her and the half-dozen covered dishes in the center of the table.
The older man gave a snort. “Don’t make the mistake of thinking Kingston’s presence will in any way protect you from my punishment. I assure you, it’s only being delayed.”
Brianna believed—hoped—that the folded piece of paper she was able to slip inside the pocket of the sweats indicated the opposite. That perhaps Felix Kingston could find some way to help her before she was forced to marry Terry Bart in four days’ time.
That thought was immediately followed by the question: why would Felix want to help her when doing so would mean bringing down the wrath of both the Irish and London Mobs on him and his family?