Page 10 of Desperate Measures

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Page 10 of Desperate Measures

“Watch your mouth,” Eduardo, her righthand man hissed.

“Fuck off, Eddie,” I snarled.

No, I was not afraid of my sister or the two goons who constantly accompanied her.

Eddie and his brother Raul were both trained by Sigma International, one of the best security companies in the world. I knew they were good at what they did.

But so was I.

I didn’t spend a decade working under bosses like Nico Fury and Adrik Volkov to learn to be a choirboy, for fuck’s sake.

“It’s fine,” my sister snapped, raising her hand and sending them out with a flick of her wrist.

“Liam, I’m sorry for anything you went through. But look, we need this. It’s just you and me now. I did my best to protect you,” she said, and fuck, she was right.

It’s not that I was treated badly by the Vipers or the Volkovs, because I wasn’t. I just had to start from the ground up.

For the stuck up little mafia prince I’d been, it was quite a role reversal.

But Angel, Nico, and Luc all did right by me. They taught me things. Tested my mettle. Made me a better fucking man.

After I finished earning my college degree, they sent me to Volkov Industries. Now, college is all theories and philosophies, but inside Volkov Tower I was able to utilize my skills as both criminal and tech expert.

Sure, in a twisted way, I owed Maggie for that. Her fuckup was what sent me to them.

But this shit right here. What Maggie wanted me to do right now?

I wanted no fucking part of it.

“Miss O’Doyle, they’re ready in the other room,” Raul said from the other side of the door.

“Liam,” Maggie whispered, placing her hand on my shoulder. “If you do this, you will solidify the place of our family for generations. No one will be able to fuck with the O’Doyles again.”

Goddamn. Motherfucker.

I gritted my teeth. Maggie had a point. And even though I was glad my piece of shit father was buried six feet deep, I still had the old bastard’s name. I wouldn’t change it.

Not for anything.

I was Liam O’Doyle now, and bleaching away the stain of my paternal roots was my problem.

But this would make it easier.

I would have extra clout.

A whole fucking army standing behind me.

The only question I had was why.

Why would Michaela Volkov agree to marry me?

It made no sense.

My sister had something to do with this, I knew she did.

Michaela was the daughter of Adrik Volkov. The fucking Dark Wolf himself. And I couldn’t fathom a single fucking reason she’d willingly do this.

“Tell me how you got her to agree to this.”




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