Ruthless People (9 page)

His cousin did not seem to get it because Neal opened his arms as if he were about
give me a hug. “Save your fancy words, she looks fucking hot. Simple.”

“Let me make this clear to the both of you. Touch me and I will strap you down then
take every last bone out of your bodies. Understood?” I asked him with a smile. His
arms dropped and Declan kept his hand in his pocket.

“Beautiful.” I added.

“Stupid
Irish
brut,” Fedel hissed lowly in Italian.

“
Senza rispetto
,”
⁶
Monte said softly. He was all about respect.

“Enough you fools. We are going to be late. Your mother says it’s mayhem outside the
manor. Let’s go,” Sedric told them before winking at me. The old pervert.

They walked toward their cars, leaving me alone with Liam and his brand new black,
Audi. He said nothing, opening the door for me and then closing it when I took a seat.
He didn’t say anything when he took his seat beside me either, and I didn’t need him
to. In fact, I had work to do.

According to the files on my tablet, Amory Valero had gotten out of prison, a secret
the Valero were trying to hide from the world until they released the savage for their
own personal use. Apparently, from what Ryan spilled to Monte and Fedel, they wanted
Amory in Brazil to attempt to steal my fucking cocaine. They must have been
on
fucking cocaine to think that it was going to work. But this was what the Valero did,
it was what they were good at . . . the fucking thieves. For years, they had stolen
whatever they could from my family. The leader, Amory’s father, Vance, was all but
run out of Italy by my father. Instead of withering into nothing, however, he resorted
to the black market. If it was worth a penny, Vance stole it, flipped it, and bought
himself more men. If I could, I would hang him by his balls.

“What is that?” Liam’s green eyes narrowed as he tried to read the encrypted files
all while the driver in front pretended not to even be in the car.

None of your business, you motherfucking Irish asshole.

“Work,” I replied instead, trying my best not to speak my mind. I knew needed to listen
to Orlando, but the look of anger and disgust in Liam’s eyes made me want to shoot
him in the dick.

He tried to pull himself back. “You should relax today. It’s a day for family.”

“Thanks, but I’m fine.” I smiled. “I slept like a fucking baby.”

Because I got out of the chair you fucking chained me to like a dog, you bitch ass
motherfucking cock.

He glared at that. “So did I, in fact. The bed was not what I am used to, but I am
not one to complain.”

Unless you don’t get what you want. Then you just cry like a newborn baby who had
his ass slapped.

I smiled again before looking back at the information in front of me.

“You should know that my mother is not fond of cursing, especially in women. To her,
women who have to curse are classless, brainless, and foul.” He stretched every word
out as I crossed my legs, my beautiful sexy legs. He could not look away.

I grinned. “You don’t fucking say? Well damn, ain’t that a mother-shit-fucking bitch?
Don’t worry, Callahan, I am not going to cock it up. In fact, I am going to try my
absofuckinlute best not to curse in front of Mama Callahan.”

His eyes blazed. “Stop the car,” he told the driver, who stomped on the brakes.

Liam grabbed the iPad from my hand, a bottle of brandy, and then stepped out of the
car and poured it all over the poor device before dropping his lighter, flame blazing,
on top of it. It went up so quickly that I could hear the glass cracking. Stepping
back in the car, he ran his hands through his hair before adjusting his jacket and
tie.

“Go on,” he told the driver.

Remember Orlando
.

“A tad bit immature, don’t you think?” I asked, not bothering to look over for fear
that I might smack the shit out of his face.

“You don’t fucking say?” He repeated my words. “But it was either the tablet or you,
and since there are dozens of photographers and reporters all waiting to see a happy
couple, I figure killing you wouldn’t go over well.”

“You better hope it burns thoroughly,” I said, breathing through my nose.

He sighed. “Knowing you, love, I wouldn’t doubt if it had a self-destruct switch.”

“Do I look like James fucking Bond?” I smiled. It was a compliment, and he didn’t
even know it.

He glared, realizing his slip only a moment later. “No. More like a black widow.”

“Even better.” I laughed, looking out my window. It did have a self-destruct switch,
but he didn’t need to know that.

Leaning back, I allowed myself to drift, trying to forget about the beautiful asshole
beside me and the world he was taking me to. Gone was the underground secret life,
where no one knew who Melody Giovanni was, and I could just be Mel, the fucking Boss.
Gone were my days of absolute freedom. Marriage was a horrible, horrible idea, and
I should have said no to my father, but the bastard had me locked into it. I had to
think on the bright side—no more wasted money or blood as we try to get our drugs
from South America into Miami and then the rest of America. No more wars in the middle
of downtown Boston or San Francisco. The amount of money I . . . we . . . would make
now was so fucking ridiculous it would make Bill fucking Gates shit bricks.

When Liam’s hand took mine, I jumped, pulling a knife from my thigh before either
of us could even blink. He stared at me wide-eyed, then smirked at the large blade
in my grip before looking at my thigh. I could see the question perfectly—how the
fuck did I have it so well hidden?

“It’s time,” he said, nodding out the window at all the cameras waiting just outside
a pair of black iron gates with a
C
in the center. I hadn’t even noticed that we had arrived, and now all the Callahans
and media were waiting on us.

Sliding the hem of my dress up, I slid the knife back into its holster only to find
Liam trying to burn a hole in me with his gaze.

“I killed the last man who looked at me like that,” I said, waiting to see the disgust
at my words, but only saw more lust. He was getting excited, and the last thing we
needed was that in print. “For the love of God, control yourself Callahan. Your mother,
the woman who whipped your ass as a child, is waiting for you.”

That did it.

“Try not to be a bitch,” he snapped as he tapped on the window, signaling the driver
to open the door.

The moment it did, camera flashes assaulted us. Liam pulled me closer to him, his
arm around my waist, and I used the opportunity to try to fix his sex hair. He kissed
my cheek when I was done, causing reporters to throw as many questions as possible
at us. I wanted to flip them off, but Liam squeezed my hand, and I smiled squeezing
back. To them we looked like lovesick fools. If they only knew.

A stunningly beautiful woman, who could only be Liam’s mother, stepped forward from
the clan behind her. “Liam, put some room between you and the poor girl, we are Catholic
for goodness sake.”

She pulled me into a tight hug, and I knew where Neal got it from.
These people needed to stop touching me.

“Mrs. Callahan, it’s such a pleasure to meet you. Liam could not stop ranting and
raving about you,” I said as politely as possible.

“Please call me Evelyn, my sweetheart.” She smiled brighter than the sun. “You have
no idea how long I have waited to meet you, and no wonder your father hid you away,
you are so beautiful, Melody.”

I dropped my head for effect before smiling. “Thank you Mrs . . . Evelyn, but please
just call me Mel. My name doesn’t fit my personality at all. I can’t carry a note.”

Nodding in pleasure as she pulled me forward. From the corner of my eye, I saw the
shocked look on Liam’s face.

Just because I hated the fucking role didn’t mean I couldn’t play it.

He wasn’t the only one surprised. Declan and Neal looked at me in confusion, before
looking at each other to make sure they weren’t insane. Sedric just nodded at me with
approval, looking a tab bit impressed.

“Mel, these are my other two daughters, Olivia, Neal’s wife.” The Malibu Barbie, with
her long gold hair and bright blue eyes glared at me but shook my hand, giving it
a tight squeeze.

“Wow, you’re so beautiful,” I said, smiling.

Her eyes lit up like she had found the true meaning of Christmas. “Thanks,” she said.

Next was Coraline, the rather tall, chocolate-skinned woman with a wide smile on her
face.

“Hi. I’m Coraline. I’m glad to finally met you.” She couldn’t contain herself from
pulling me into yet another hug.

What the hell was up with these damn people?

“Oh my, Italian silk, very nice.” She grinned when she pulled back saying, “Oh, my
God, and the shoes! There is walk-heel-ton for charity next Saturday, you should join
me.”

She wants me to ruin my shoes for charity?

“Hi, Coraline.” I smiled at her. “Everyone is so nice. Thank you for welcoming me
into your home. You have no idea how nervous I’ve been.”

I heard Neal hold back a cough.

Coraline grabbed on to my free arm, while Olivia just smiled, clearly finding no threat
in me whatsoever.
Just like the rest of them.

“Come, Melody, we will make sure the rest of the family doesn’t overwhelm you too
much.” Evelyn smiled, leading me to the manor. It was the exact opposite of my home,
sadly. Callahan Manor was a modern day fortress. Beyond the cream marble floors that
stretched for as far as the eye could see, the double grand stair cases framed with
black iron, and the engraved wooden French doors, there was nothing but forty-six
thousand square feet of illegal activity. There were no statues, barely any plants,
and only modern paintings. Everything was simple, crisp, and clean.

I wanted to puke. For eighty-five million, I expected more.

“I’m sorry.” I paused, her words only now catching up to me. “The
rest
of the family?”

“Liam wanted to make sure you weren’t overwhelmed by too many new faces at your wedding
on Sunday. So he thought it would be best to have you meet everyone now.” Olivia smiled.
They all smiled, as if they were talking about five or ten people.

But I knew the Callahan Clan considered between ninety to hundred people their family.
My Italian line was mostly gone. I didn’t deal with that many people anywhere, with
the exception of my men.

Turning around, Liam was grinning like a fucking cat with a ball of yarn, and I knew
then that I should have killed him in my basement. He winked, and I was tempted to
lose my cool, but I wouldn’t give him the pleasure.

“If they are as welcoming I think, I can make it, but please don’t leave me completely
alone. I really wouldn’t want to insult anyone.”

Coraline smiled.
Again with the fucking smiles.
“Mel, you are family. We wouldn’t throw you to the wolves without giving you a spear.”

Please give me a fucking spear.
I knew whose heart I wanted to throw it through.

Allowing them to pull me away farther down the boring halls and out a set of large
French doors, which opened to a large grass lawn, now covered in white tents. At least
a hundred people sat drinking, laughing, and stuffing their faces with food. Music
roared from an old Irish band staged by the trees, and when I said old, I meant old.
With full-length white beards, they played their handcrafted instruments for the crowd.

For the love of God.

“Don’t be nervous,” Evelyn said. “You’re young and beautiful. They already love you.
And those who don’t will have to because you are Liam’s.”

I’m my fucking own,
I wanted to yell at her. And I wasn’t nervous. I was pissed. I wanted to play whack-a-mole
with all these motherfuckers heads. But instead, I just smiled and walked outside.

“Everyone this is Melody, Liam’s fiancée!” Coraline yelled at the top of her lungs.

They all stopped their dancing, singing, and drinking, as if they wanted the world
to know it wasn’t just a fucking Irish stereotype, to stare at me. Then they raised
their mugs and screamed:

“Cheers!”

I don’t need this shit.

But I had a part to play so I grinned. “
Sláinte
!”

Everyone shouted with joy, and I was motherfucking-in with the Irish clan. At least
the drunk ones with dicks. The girls would be harder. I could already tell from their
glares. Maybe I could tell them they were pretty and try not hold their faces underwater.

“Hi, Melody!” A group of young kids ran up to me, speaking with strong Irish accents.
If I didn’t know better, I would have thought they were drunk as well. But even the
Irish couldn’t be that crazy.

Crouching down to them, I smiled. “
Dia duit, mo pretties beag
.”
⁷

Their grins almost split their faces as they began to speak in full-on Irish. Liam
must have followed me, because he was being congratulated by some other male drunks.
He looked surprised that I knew Irish. But he was a chauvinistic pig, who thought
all I did was paint my toenails and shop. Of course I spoke Irish. My father had me
learn the moment the contract was formed.