Chapter 3
Damien
The first meeting with the entire crew is not going well. I stand in the corner with Alexei and a few of our other top guys and watch Ivan, Raul, and Sofia sitting at the big conference table in the lower, private level of Ronan Donnelly's club, Phantom. Matteo Marino is sitting there pontificating. His sons sit beside him, young versions of the Don of Chicago.
Ronan sits and listens. His bride, Mirabella sits beside him, back straight, face serious. Sean and Tristan Donnelly sit with their brother. I study everyone's movements, everyone's reactions. And it takes no genius to realize we will get nowhere today.
Ivan has no trouble befriending Ronan Donnelly.
Matteo Marino is a different story. He's older than Ivan and Ronan, and old-school. It's not common for the Outfit to ally with anyone outside of the family. That's the whole point of them. I suppose desperate times call for desperate measures.
My eyes land on the hellcat.
Nessa Donnelly sits beside her sister-in-law. She's leaned back, relaxed, too casual. She sips her drink like it's a lifeline. She's bored. Or at least, she's pretending to be. Her eyes tell a different story. She watches everyone, same as me.
Ronan considers his youngest sister an equal in their decisions.
I watch her sip her whiskey sour. I watch the way she rubs her pink lips together afterwards, runs her tongue along them to get the aftertaste off. Her eyes look more golden under the lights of the club. They watch dutifully, lingering on Matteo as he speaks. She fights a grin, like she desperately wants to say something to him. I don't doubt she normally would. That woman doesn't seem to know when to shut up.
Matteo, and Ronan too, want to know about men on the inside of the Vitalis. I don't know how they got that information, but I know sure as fuck that Ivan won't be telling them anything till we have some contract signed. Preferably in blood. I don't want us all to wake up tomorrow with knives in our fucking backs.
Matteo insults his own daughter, Mira, and Nessa's cocky little grin falls. Anger clouds her eyes.
Ronan calls for a break.
Ivan, Sofia, Raul, Alexei, and I step outside. I light a cigarette as they talk around me.
"What do you think, Damien?" Sofia asks me. We speak in Russian even though no one else is around.
I shrug, "Just tell me what to do and I'll do it."
She gives me a look. Ivan chuckles.
"We aren't telling them about the rat," Raul says.
Ivan runs his hand over his jaw. He's always thinking, my brother. I let out a long stream of smoke, wondering how much longer we'll be here today. I have shit to do.
"Admittedly, I was surprised to see Mirabella Marino at the table," Raul says.
"Donnelly," I correct.
"Right," Raul shoots me a look.
Ivan looks at me, something flaring in his eyes. "Give Damien and me a moment, will you all?"
Great. They all nod and fuck off. Sofia kisses Ivan's cheek then gives me a warning look. She's so protective over my brother that it makes me smile.
"It's time to take your place, Damien," he tells me in a low voice.
I blink slowly. "What do you mean?"
"I want you in on this."
"I'm right here," I all but growl.
"I mean all in," Ivan snaps. "If this alliance goes through, I need you closer to my side than ever. I need your involvement."
"I'm involved. I am always involved."
"You know exactly what I mean. Don't play dumb."
I look off into the distance as the cars go by. The last few years have gone so fast. I knew Ivan was taking it easy on me, letting me adjust to life not only outside of the Russian prison cell, but also life in the States. He was right though. I made him a promise when he became Pakhan. Raul was all muscle. Useless with this shit.
I wasn't all that much better. I was by no means a mastermind like Sofia. I was always the impulsive one. But Ivan needed me.
It wasn't emotion or guilt that drove me, it was duty. Loyalty.
My brother. Now and always.
I take a final drag of my cigarette and turn back to my brother, "What can I do?"
"You'll be the liaison with the Donnellys. Once this goes through. There will be no getting close with the Marinos. We just have to accept that. I want us to all feel like more than allies. The Donnellys are a strong unit. We need to make sure we remain close to them like the Marinos are."
I narrow my eyes, trying to analyze what he means.
"What makes you think I have good interpersonal skills?" I ask.
Ivan gives me a look, "The Donnellys are...similar to you."
"You trying to say they're crazy like me?" I laugh.
"That's exactly what I'm saying."
I think about Nessa's bloody sneakers for some reason.
Ivan claps my shoulder, "I trust you. My brother."
"Now and always," I nod.
Something has been decidedly settled. After hours at Phantom, Sofia and Ivan agree that telling Matteo about the Vitali rat (at least one of them) will be enough to placate him for now, and get this alliance started off on the right foot. I have no feelings one way or the other. I don't particularly like exchanging this kind of secret with the Outfit, but I also trust my brother and sister-in-law's decisions.
I'm about to sneak out and head back to The Black Bear when I feel someone's presence next to me. Sucking in a breath, I turn and see Tristan Donnelly standing there. He and I have talked a few times here and there. We run in similar circles with the fighting rings. He's talented in the ring. I wouldn't want to be on the other side of his fists.
"Yenin," he greets me, holding out his hand.
I shake it despite myself. "Donnelly."
"You trying to sneak off?" he smirks knowingly.
"Always," I smirk back.
"Stay. Have a drink with us."
I don't really want to, but I think about what Ivan said earlier about me needing to get closer to the Donnellys. How this was my job as liaison. I nod in agreement and let Tristan leads me to where he and his guys are sitting.
Alistair Callahan, Sean Donnelly, and Kevan Fallon's son, Parker, sit with guys who I am introduced to as Mickey, Nolan, Brent, and Joe. I make a mental note of all of their names to do background checks on them later. Real background checks, the only way I know how to do them – through the dark web. I sit beside Tristan in the VIP section as he orders us a round of drinks.
The place is still only inner circle members of the Donnellys mostly, with Marinos, and Yenins scattered throughout. Ronan, Matteo, Kevan Fallon, along with a few more of their guys, and Ivan stand around the bar talking. I have a feeling I'm better suited over here with the other right-hands and soldiers anyway.
The guys talk around me like old friends, but I'm distracted by the sound of laughter coming from the empty dance floor. Well, sort of empty. My sister-in-law is cracking up, her shoes kicked off long ago, along with Mira Donnelly, some curvy blue-eyed blonde that looks like a swimsuit model, a petite and attractive Asian woman, and Nessa Donnelly.
Nessa's taken off her leather jacket and is in nothing but a little black crop top, showing off her various tattoos. A new song has started, then immediately pauses, and Nessa is standing in front of the four other women, pointing at them. And she is, for some reason, holding the DJ's microphone. Her voice is loud enough that I grate my teeth down before sipping my vodka.
"...Sof, you're obviously Ginger Spice. A natural leader with glorious red hair. Bels, you're Posh because you're sexy and mysterious..."
Mira jumps up and down excitedly at the assessment.
"...Caiti, you're Baby Spice because you're an innocent little virgin and a giant baby..."
"Rude!" the blonde cries.
"Viv, you're Sporty because you're surprisingly strong for such a small human."
"Thank you, I know," the petite woman named Viv grins.
"And I, of course, am Scary Spice."
"That's obviously the correct choice," Mira laughs.
"Do we have choreography for this?" Sofia shocks the hell out of me by asking the other woman.
"This is Caiti's favorite karaoke song," Nessa shoves the microphone in the blonde's hand.
"No! Take this back!" the other woman hisses.
"Better yet, put it away," Viv adds.
"Someone get this girl another tequila, she's wound up tighter than a jack-in-the box," Nessa teases into the microphone, "Ronan! Another round please?" she calls, turning her body towards her oldest brother. He just flat out ignores her.
"I thought I took that mic away from her..." Tristan mutters next to me.
The music starts back up and thus does the laughter. The women start jumping up and down to the music. Well, Sofia just sort of sways, being quite pregnant. Nessa throws her head around wildly, her pony-tail whipping back and forth.
I turn my attention back to the matter at hand.
"Park, is your sister still single?" Nolan asks. A few of the guys snicker as Parker gives Nolan a dark look. I notice Tristan Donnelly tense beside me. He's not laughing, either.
Fascinating. I sip my vodka.
"Bold of you to think you stand a chance," Parker says.
"Ah, whatever. Hear McCormac is interested. He isn't all that," Nolan shrugs.
Tristan downs the rest of his drink. I fight a grin.
"Do you usually gossip like high school girls?" I ask him curiously as the others talk around us. Tristan laughs a bit.
"Always."
His eyes go out to the dance floor, lingering on the curvy blonde, who I am now gathering is Parker Fallon's younger sister. Nessa has got her arms around the girl and they're jumping up and down happily. Carefree. Young.
Tristan's jaw tenses and he looks away, pours himself another drink from the bottle on the table, and I make sure I take note of all that.
He's clearly protective over the Fallon girl.
They start talking about some upcoming street race, which is infinitely more interesting to me than whatever other bullshit they talk about. Tristan brings up his next fight, and that interests me even more.
I find myself talking to Tristan Donnelly. He feels like an old friend. Which is weird. I don't have a lot of friends. He cracks a few jokes. He sort of reminds me of myself in some ways. No wonder we get along.
They don't have any vodka at the table, and I could use at least one more drink for the night, so I head over to the main bar, leaning against the counter to order my drink.
I feel her presence before I see her.
I don't move a muscle as her forearm hits mine.
"Long time no see," Nessa tells me, a smile in her voice.
I grunt my agreement.
"Surprised to see you lingering about..."
I finally offer her a sideways glance. She's staring daggers at me but wears a friendly smile. I can't decide which part is more terrifying.
She is a little lioness. I noticed her bravery amongst men much older and more experienced than her. The way she attempted to put even Matteo Marino in his place in support of her sister-in-law.
Little lioness, yes, I think I like that.
The bartender brings me my drink and I turn to go, but Nessa steps in my way.
"Can I help you, malenʹkaya lʹvitsa?" I ask, sipping my drink, offering her a tight smile. Nessa's eyes flare, apparently not loving my nickname for her. That makes me love it more. Not that she probably knows what it means.
"Yes. You can. You can assure me your word is still secure. That you won't tell anyone about our...initial meeting?" she asks, clearing her throat.
I sip my drink casually, enjoying the way Nessa squirms. She's so opposite me. She wears her emotions on her sleeve and blurts anything that comes to her mind. Her cheeks are flushed. I'm not sure if it's from drinking all evening or the dancing, or maybe I make her uncomfortable. I haven't decided yet.
"You have my word. So long as you never show your face at The Black Bear again. I don't lie."
"Why?" she snaps.
"Why what?" I demand, annoyed all of the sudden. She's such a gnat. A beautiful gnat, but still.
"Why don't you lie?"
"I'm incapable."
Nessa looks intrigued. I try not to stare at her eyes. They're off-putting. I never get off-put. That irritates me even more.
"Everyone can lie. It's natural and human. Are you a robot?" she scoffs.
"Some might say," I smirk. I think of my mother. Calling me a monster. Saying she was terrified of me when I was 7 years old. My father telling her that something was just 'broken' inside of me. He was right. Something is broken. It's best Nessa Donnelly learns that now. I'm not to be fucked with.
"Are you a psychopath?"
I laugh. I can't help it. She's kind of funny, Nessa Donnelly. Not as funny as me though.
"Some might call it sociopathic," I correct.
Nessa's mouth falls open.
"Undiagnosed," I add, sipping my drink.
She crosses her arms, "You're a fucking liar."
I shrug, "I'm not lying. I told you. I don't lie."
"Fine. Then I'm going to test the theory."
"Test away," I shrug.
"Did you check out my tits that night?" she asks.
"Yes." I'm a straight man, after all. Nessa's tits are small, perky, and were glaring at me, taunting me that night I caught her with Lance.
Her mouth falls open again. Her cheeks go redder, but I think more-so with anger than embarrassment.
"That's bold," she huffs.
"Something tells me you're the bold one in this conversation," I mutter, wondering how I can possibly escape this.
Nessa jabs a finger in my chest. She's tall, but I'm 6' 5", so she has to reach up a bit to do it. Which I find funny. I laugh despite myself. "That's right, and you'd do well to not forget that."
"Noted," I smirk before turning on my foot and heading back to the VIP section.
I feel Nessa glaring into my back the entire time. When I settle in my seat and strike up a conversation with Tristan and Cal, I look over and still see Nessa glaring, her arms crossed over the perky little tits in question.
Maybe this liaison business wouldn't be all bad.
This could be fun.
*******************************************************
Nessa
2 Months Later, Beginning of The Warrior's Gamble (Book 2)
I'm usually what one might call a party-animal. I love getting dressed up and schmoozing. Just not when I know I have to be on my best behavior. Ronan and Mira are throwing a cocktail party tonight. It's all business-related, a way to bring the Marinos and Yenins together 'casually.' As if anything about any of this is casual.
I plan on hiding in my room, or maybe escaping to go get into some actual trouble, but then I find out Caitlin will be attending. Not with her parents and brother. No, with Jake McCormac. I don't trust him as far as I can throw him. He's hot, sure. And he's clearly interested in my best friend. But no one is worthy of her.
I can make an appearance to keep her company, I decide.
I slip into my favorite black dress, one with a big slit in it that will annoy my brothers that I'm wearing. Black has always been my color. I smirk in the mirror as I fluff my hair.
My mom hated that my favorite color was black growing up. Well, in the rare moments she showed any care or affection for me at all, she scoffed that I wasn't as feminine as she always was. I love my mom and I miss her a lot. But mostly I miss the relationship we could have had but never really did.
Something tightens in my chest. Just like it does every time I think about her. I push it back, clear my throat, and apply a layer of my favorite red lipstick.
The party is already in full swing when I head downstairs and take in the mafiosos and 'business' associates around me. I'm fashionably late. Brent Turner makes his way towards me immediately, and I mutter a curse under my breath. Brent's been trying to get in my pants for a while now. I had a momentary lapse in judgment last weekend and danced all up on his dick at my brother's after party after his fight. I thought maybe the whole 'brother's best friend' thing might satiate my forever craving for sexual satisfaction.
I was wrong.
There was nothing wrong with Brent. Other than he was a douche from time to time.
"Hey Nes," he greets with a low, sexy voice. Brent is good-looking, I'll give him that. I give him a slight smile and let him kiss my cheek. He starts talking but I'm too busy scanning the room for Caitlin. If I know anything about my best friend, I know that's she is most likely vastly uncomfortable in the situation. While I thrive in environments such as this, Caiti prefers 'low-key.'
It's her second official outing with McCormac. I don't trust the guy. He's all charm and suave-like. Why would he bring her here on their second date if not to show her off like she's his toy he just beat all the other boys to get?
That's all these guys see when they look at women. Caiti, specifically, because she's the ridiculously pretty, sweet daughter of Kevan Fallon – one of the most powerful men in this city besides Ronan. Not to mention, ever since that girl turned 18, it's been like a dating Hunger Games to get her attention. My best friend is stunning. She is also the best person I know and deserves the world.
Not some guy who just wants her on his arm for show.
I knew her parents were trying to marry her off to the highest bidder. And damn did that grind my gears. I was so thankful Ronan never treated me like some prized calf for auction. Now that Caiti had turned 20 and wasn't attending college classes anymore, her parents were more than eager to get rid of her. It was frustrating to watch someone so amazing being treated that way.
I grab a flute of champagne from a waiter as they walk past. Brent puts his hand on my waist, and I give him a look. He immediately removes his hand, taking the hint.
"Aw, B, are you getting attached?" I tease lightly.
Brent frowns, "You never called me back."
"We had our fun," I tap on his chest with my hand. I never even kissed him, but it wasn't going to work between us. Tristan didn't really give a fuck what I did, but Brent was 23, and acted like it. I need someone older, or at least someone who acted more mature.
My eyes finally find Caitlin in the center of the room, surrounded by a group of people. I don't register who she's with, I just shove my flute of half-drank champagne into Brent's hand and storm towards her, ready to save the day.
"There you are!" I grin loudly, making sure my presence is known. A rush of relief mixed with embarrassment flushes over my best friend's pretty face as I approach.
I link my arm with hers. Caitlin looks weary of what I might do or say, but she does seem to sag a bit into me. I shoot a look at Jake McCormac. His eyes are eating her up and that really pisses me off.
It's only after I've made a spectacle that I realize the entire Yenin clan is standing around me. Including Satan himself.
Damien Yenin looks uncomfortable in his all-black suit. But damn, can he fucking wear the shit out of that suit. In my mind, my tongue rolls out of my mouth cartoon style and I'm all but panting at the way his broad shoulders look in that all black ensemble.
I hate how sexy he is. How big and broad and...terrifying.
Damien Yenin might be the biggest dude I've ever seen in real life. He's even bigger than Cal, and that's saying something.
I blink at him, both of us staring at one another in recognition. I haven't seen him around since our first big meeting at Phantom two months ago where he assured me that he would keep my secret safe. I didn't care so much about someone finding out about me almost fucking one of his guys in his bar. I mostly cared if someone found out I was out alone that night. And what that might mean.
Damien, to his credit, never asked about the blood he most certainly saw on me that night. Carter's blood.
I recover quickly from my staring contest with the Russian brute, and lead Caitlin away to safety. I feel an urge to protect her from these wolves. I know she can handle herself, but she's not like us – so I worry. She has thin skin. She cares what people say and think. In a lot of ways, I admire that about her. She wears her heart on her sleeve. She truly and genuinely cares about people. She deserves so much more than this shit.
When I warn her to be careful with McCormac, she acts all pissy like I'm looking for a fight. Something pangs in my chest at that. Sometimes I feel like I don't know how to show that I care about people without being obnoxious. I've embarrassed Caiti, which is the last thing I wanted to do. I just am looking out for her.
Sometimes my mouth is too fucking big. I'm too aggressive. I can't seem to rein that in sometimes. I never meant to make Caitlin feel bad, but I can tell she's taking my warning against McCormac to heart.
After our break, we walk back inside, and I join Tristan, Cal, and some of the guys in the corner away from all the fancy bullshit. I keep an eye on Caitlin, who is being flounced around like a doll by McCormac.
That really grinds me.
"You alright?" Tristan asks, not missing a beat.
"That," I scoff, pointing my champagne flute at where McCormac stands with Caitlin.
"What, you don't like McCormac?" he asks, his voice tight.
Tighter than usual.
"Do you?" I scoff. "He's using her."
"You don't know that," Tristan mutters, his eyes focusing on my best friend and her new beau.
"He definitely is. He only sees her as a piece of ass. A perfect little trophy wife. It's unbearable to watch."
Something works in my brother's jaw. I know he agrees with me, but he won't say it. Tristan and I have always been closest of our siblings, being the youngest two. That didn't mean we always got along, but I'd die for him, and he would for me.
"I need something to eat," I mutter angrily and annoyed. I've been drinking champagne for almost an hour on an empty stomach. Tristan blinks and nods at me. I walk over to the buffet that Mira got catered. I can't help but grin. Before Bels, this place was like a tomb. Ever since Ro married her, it's been family dinners, parties, and laughter. There's life in this place again. And she did that.
I'll always love her for that.
I fill up my plate with various snacks and feel a presence next to me.
Fucking Brent. I look over my shoulder at him.
"What?" I snap.
"I don't want this to just be something you do for fun..." he mutters.
"Please, B..." I sigh. "This is not...we're not going to be anything."
"Let me take you out, Nes."
"No," I say vehemently. "It's a bad idea and you know it."
Normally, I'd be down for a good time. A hookup. Brent is certainly not the boyfriend type. That's why I thought it was safe to grind on his dick last weekend. Little did I know, he was ready to make me wifey.
I do feel slightly bad. I hate hurting people's feelings. I do hurt feelings, often. It comes with the territory of being me. I can never seem to shut up, and that's bound to make me hurt people without realizing. Often.
Brent does look hurt. And I don't like it.
He huffs and stalks off back to his group of friends. He'll get over it.
I feel my hand tremble as I pick up a serving spoon, hating that I upset him. Even fucking Brent – who will be over me in a day. He could have some girl over here in a heartbeat. So, why do I feel so, so bad? All the fucking time.
I fight the emotion in my throat and push it down.
I'm almost relieved when I see Damien Yenin approach. I don't know why. He puts me off, but I'm thankful for the distraction right now after hurting both Caitlin and Brent's feelings within the hour. A new record for me.
He fills his plate, not looking at me once.
For some reason, that eggs me on more. I stand there and stick some little gourmet appetizer in my mouth whole, smirking at him.
Damien sighs loudly, as if sensing me.
He tries to walk away. I don't let him.
"Well, hi there Lucifer," I say loudly as I intercept him.
"Lucifer, clever," he mutters. I think he says something under his breath, maybe in Russian, but I can't make it out.
"Long time no see!" I chirp, gnawing down on the toothpick in my mouth. Damien's eyes narrow at me, a small smirk on his face.
"I thought things were a little too peaceful lately," he agrees.
I grin. I can't help it. I really can't stand this guy, but for some reason, that only pulls me in more. That's not usually the case with me. There's something about him that makes me want to press his fucking buttons. I'm usually so good at it. Pissing people off. Damien might as well be a statue. I wonder what he looks like riled up.
"Thought I'd be seeing more of you. Given we're allies now and all," I pick another appetizer off my plate and chomp on it threateningly. Damien is not at all deterred. It's fun.
"Disappointed?" Damien smirks.
"Aw, Lucifer..." I croon, "Are you flirting with me?"
"You'd like that, wouldn't you? No. I don't flirt."
"Pity that," I nod.
"Your charm won't work on me," he adds.
"You think I'm charming?" I grin.
"No. You think you're charming."
I roll my eyes.
"There's a fine line between charm and annoyance," he adds, his own smirk widening. I feel my eye twitch.
Who the fuck does this guy think he is, anyway?
"Don't worry, little demon," he goes on, "You'll be seeing a lot more of me."
"Why does that sound like a threat?"
He shrugs, "Take it how you will."
I don't trust this guy. Not even a little bit.
He moves closer to me, and I know he's trying to put me off balance. Therefore, I stand my ground. Although, it is slightly difficult because he smells so damn good. Tobacco, teakwood, deeply masculine. I could really drown in a scent like that. Fucking hell.
I know he's trying to intimidate me.
And yet...
Something new and unfamiliar tightens in my lower stomach. I press my thighs together to stop this weird feeling, but that only gives me a small, miniscule sense of relief. It's in this horrifying moment I realize I'm turned on.
I crane my neck up to look at him. Even in my heels, he's stupidly tall. It's irritating. I hate how attracted I am to this...monster.
"Don't fuck with me, Damien," I frown.
"Don't fuck with me, Nessa, and we won't have a single problem."
His eyes are such a dark brown that they almost look black. Which should make him scarier, but the way those dark lashes trace his eyes has the opposite effect. He's hauntingly handsome. It almost hurts to look too closely.
"Stay out of my business," I warn, not really knowing what else to say.
"Trust me. I want nothing to do with you or your business."
I feel my eyes flare in anger. Damien smirks slightly. Without warning, he lifts two fingers up to my neck. I gasp, stepping away finally. His grip tightens on my neck.
"What the fuck are you doing?" I snap.
"Your pulse," he nods, removing his fingers. "Racing."
"So?!" I growl.
Damien shrugs and takes an easy bite of his food. He takes his time chewing before answering me. It pisses me off how cool he's acting. "I think you like the idea of me in your business, Nessa Donnelly."
"Don't even think about it," I warn.
"What are you going to do? Annoy me to death?" he deadpans.
I grin, "You have no idea what I'm capable of."
"So enlighten me," Damien shrugs.
"I think not. I see what you're doing."
He's trying to work me for information. I don't trust anyone – especially the Yenins. They may be my brothers new allies, but I would never share anything with Damien, of all people.
"I'm not doing anything but striking up conversation that you insisted upon engaging in. Go on. Between us. What can you do? Enlighten me." Damien grins, an evil glint in his eye. His Russian accent makes me want to giggle, his words a bit clipped, but still. He's way too sexy and it's actually really pissing me off.
The heat between my thighs intensifies. Christ almighty, I have to get out of here.
"Fuck you," I mutter before turning on my heel.
That's always been my go-to response. Not always the smartest, but forever effective. My heart races as I find Mira and Ronan to mingle with them. I look over my shoulder and look to where Damien is standing. He speaks with Sean and Cal like they're old friends. My mouth feels dry, and I don't like the way my heart is still racing.
Or maybe I do like it.
It's new. Unfamiliar.
Thrilling, even.
I can't help but smile to myself.
He doesn't know what's coming to him.