Page 14 of Ruthless Claim

I stare at the ceiling.

She stares at whatever she’s staring at.

It’s silent in the room.

I’ve slept in worse conditions.

Field operations, cars, once a warehouse in the Bronx I have no interest in revisiting. A king bed in a penthouse is fine. Marvellous actually.

The silence stretches.

“This is ridiculous,” Valentina says finally. “We’re adults. We should be able to have a civil conversation.”

I turn my head to look at her. “You just said you’d rather gouge your eyes out than look at me.”

“Because you were being an ass,” she shoots back.

“I’m always an ass,” I tell her. “You’d better get used to it.”

She turns on her side to face me and I make the mistake of turning toward her too. In the low light from the windows her eyes look almost black, and dark hair spreads across the pillow.

Even with how much I detest her, I can also admit she’s beautiful with her high cheekbones, pert nose, and full lips. If we passed each other on the street, I would definitely have taken a second look.

“Why did you agree to this?” she asks. “The marriage. Why didn’t you fight Connor on it?”

I consider lying but decide there’s no point. “Because Connor doesn’t ask. He orders. And I do what I’m told.”

Her brow furrows. “You’re his heir. His nephew. Doesn’t that give you any leverage?”

“It gives me responsibility and obligations,” I say evenly “Not leverage.”

She looks at me like she’s trying to decide if she believes me. I’d be doing the same thing. “Connor and Teresa raised me after my parents died,” I say, ignoring the flash of pain that lances through me when I talk about them. “He gave me everything. In return, I give him obedience.”

“That’s not family,” she says. “That’s servitude.”

I shrug. “In our world, they’re the same thing.”

She’s quiet for a moment, and I think maybe she’ll drop it. That was stupid of me. “Leo treats his people with respect. He doesn’t order them around like⁠—”

Is she seriously comparing me to her idiot brother? “Leo is soft.”

Even in the dim light, I can see anger flash in her eyes. “Leo is loved. There’s a difference.”

I laugh, and it comes out harsher than I intend, or maybe exactly as harsh as I intend—I’m not always sure. “Love is a liability that gets you killed.”

“Or it makes you stronger. Look at Leo and Emma.”

I ignore the other flash of pain at Emma’s name and bury it deep within me. “Leo kidnapped Emma on her wedding day for revenge,” I remind her. “If that’s love, I’ll pass.”

“And yet they’re happy,” she says. “Actually happy. Not performing for an audience.”

“We’re not them.” I turn back to the ceiling because this conversation is not going anywhere useful. “We don’t have the luxury of feelings. We have a job: make this alliance hold. Keep our families from killing each other. That’s it.”

“How romantic,” Valentina mutters.

“Romance is for people who have choices. We don’t.”

I can feel the weight of her gaze and I don’t look back, keeping my eyes on the ceiling. She turns over, the rustling sound of silk against sheets soft.