20. Chapter 20

20

S oren raised his brows.

"No?"

He had never heard a "no" like that in his life.

He had been in a rare good mood after spending the afternoon with Ilaria. But he should have known it was too good to last. He felt his temper ignite.

Galen looked equally baffled, but he was more in control of his temper where Ilaria was concerned and was more apt to give her the benefit of the doubt. "Can you explain what you mean, love?"

Ilaria quickly paced in front of the window, as if gathering the right words. Then she turned back to them. Her eyes were gleaming, cheeks were pink, and she was panting.

If they hadn't been talking about business, Soren would have been turned on. Hell, he was turned on, imagining her looking like that, in bed, under him— He blinked a few times to clear the image from his mind and focus on what she was saying.

"You don't think I can do it," she accused them. Her voice was raw. "You don't believe I'm capable of leading my family. You don't believe I can find out who killed my parents and deal with it."

"Ilaria—" Soren said.

"I'm not finished," she growled, fists clenched. For once, Soren was surprised into silence.

"What gives you the right to make decisions for me?" she asked in a low voice. "It's my life. My parents. My family."

She pierced Soren with a look. "What gives you the right to eliminate the killer?" Her chest rose up and down. "That was my vengeance to take, not yours."

Soren watched her as a fire burned in his gut. The last thing he would have allowed was for her to face her parents' murderer. There are certain things that one doesn't come back from.

"I came here to confirm that Galen wasn't involved," Ilaria continued, fury still tensing her entire body. "I didn't come here for your help. I haven't asked for your help. I certainly didn't ask you to take over my life." She blew out an agitated breath. "I don't need you." She punctuated every word.

She stopped, her chest heaving.

"Are you finished?" Soren asked. The pounding in his ears was gradually getting louder.

Ilaria looked at him with unrestrained hostility but said nothing.

Soren slowly rose from his chair and walked toward her, keeping a tight leash on his temper. He didn't want to acknowledge how her "I don't need you" tore a hole in his chest.

"The fact that you deem our help as a criticism of your abilities suggests that you're not fully ready to take this on yourself." Soren's voice was hard and unflinching. "This is a tough business for even those who've been doing this a long time. You're brand new, and you're being thrust into the top spot without having been fully prepared, along with having wolves sniffing at your doorstep. The smart ones accept help when it's being offered."

Ilaria's gaze was locked on his, every line on her face furious. "So what? If I fail, then at least it's on me. What does it matter to you?"

"Because Galen has an obligation to your father," he spat. "And instead of being grateful, you're whining like a child, complaining that you don't get to do it your way."

Her spine stiffened. If looks could kill, Soren would be six feet under. "You're the one insisting on helping , and then you're put out because I'm not bowing at your feet with eternal gratitude. How are you so arrogant that you think you know what's good for me?"

She pointed a finger in his face. "You can have all the judgment you want about whether I'm smart enough to accept your help. In the end, it's my business. Are you going to donate to charities and then complain about how they use the money? Once it's offered, it's out of your hands." She spread her arms wide. "My business, my decisions."

"What is it you don't understand?" Soren growled, raking his hands roughly through his hair. "I want you safe. I want you to succeed. I can help you with all of it. Why do you keep digging in your heels?"

"You don't have to keep saving everyone, Soren!" she hissed. "Stop expecting everyone around you to be incompetent just so you can come in and save the day."

Soren's face paled, and he reared back. She had pricked the heart of what drove him. Did he really expect incompetence from others?

"I don't expect incompetence," he countered. "I just call it when I see it." Shit. That sounded bad even to him.

Her eyes widened. "I'm incompetent, then."

"I didn't say you were incompetent," he snapped, "but you're definitely inexperienced. And yet you don't want to listen to us."

Ilaria jutted her chin out. "I get that both of you have been doing this a lot longer than I have, and I'm sure you could do a much better job than I could. But I need some agency of my own."

Now it was Soren's turn to look at her in disbelief. Agency? What agency would she have if she was dead?

"We don't always get what we want," he bit out. "You think this is what your father would have wanted? To reject our help?" He knew he was throwing down the gauntlet.

"Leave my father out of this," she growled. "He's not here to speak for himself, is he?"

Okay, maybe he had gone too far.

Galen cleared his throat. He had chosen to stay silent through most of the conversation. "Ilaria, love, of course we want you to have your own agency. In the long run, it will all be up to you. We just want to help you get off to a good start to avoid some of the mistakes we made."

She crossed her arms but didn't interrupt.

"And you'll have to forgive an old man's sense of honor," he continued. "But when my best friend is killed, and his daughter is also threatened, I have to do whatever I can to keep you safe."

Ilaria trudged over to the end of the sofa farthest away from Soren and sat down heavily.

"Do you honestly want to go back to Chicago all by yourself?" Soren demanded. "To fend off the wolves and find your parents' murderer by yourself?"

She looked away for a long minute and then finally glared at him. "No."

He threw his hands up in aggravation. "Then you're only putting up a fight for the hell of it? For your pride? Because your feelings were hurt?"

She crossed her arms tightly, her lips pinched.

"Your pride will get you killed," he said, not mincing words. He didn't know how to get through to her without being blunt. "You're a lone female without a husband for protection." He held up a hand before she could raise another protest. "I get it; you can protect yourself. But the other families aren't going to think that. Put yourself in their shoes. You're a new boss without your father or a husband to protect you." He set down his glass on the coffee table with a loud clink. "You're vulnerable. Any halfway decent boss would consider you a prime target to firm up their foothold."

Ilaria's eyes glittered with anger. He knew she was resisting purely out of pride, but she wasn't thinking like the other bosses.

"How are you going to help me?" she shot back. "Are you going to announce to the entire town that the MacGregors are in town? That'll just encourage the guilty party to go into hiding."

"I plan to announce my presence at the right time," he said.

"Then as far as the other bosses are concerned, I'm still unprotected," she pointed out snidely.

"But I'll be there," he ground out. "They'll show their hand if they try something, and I'll be there to protect you and catch them in the act. In the meantime, I can still do more than you can do alone. Are you going to put eyes on the other families? On Vincent?"

Her stony silence told him the answer was no.

He held onto his patience by a thread. It had been a long time since he had to justify his actions to this degree. He was helping her, and she was throwing it back in his face. He had always protected his family. But he was questioning whether it was worth it in this case.

Why did it bother him so much that she wouldn't accept his help? A niggling thought said that if she trusted him, she wouldn't be putting up such a fight. No, she didn't trust him. Not now, maybe not ever. That left a hollow feeling in his chest.

This was not working. The more he pushed, the more she resisted, and they both just got more frustrated. She was not, and never had been, someone who laid her problems at someone else's feet and expected them to solve it all for her.

And if he was being honest, her bullheaded insistence on handling her own problems was one reason he was attracted to her. In an only-friends sort of way, of course.

In order for her to understand his side, he needed to give in a little.

Soren leaned forward in his chair. "Ilaria, look, maybe you're…not wrong. We should have done this differently. We should have gotten your input from the beginning."

Her expression looked a little mollified.

"We're not trying to take agency from you," he continued. "If I'm honest, I'm happy that you're eager to take ownership."

Ilaria's posture relaxed even more, which gave him a small measure of relief.

"But as you said, you don't want to go back home by yourself," Soren said. "So let's not say that we're trying to protect you, as if you're incapable. It's more accurate to say that we want to help you learn to protect yourself. Especially when you'll eventually have to do all this alone."

Galen gave him an approving glance.

"You're handling me," she observed, looking at him sideways.

He huffed a laugh. "Yes, I am. But that's because I'm trying to show you how we all get what we want."

Ilaria rubbed her forehead and was quiet for a long moment. "Why didn't you tell me you had caught the hitman?"

Because I didn't want you to face such ugliness. Because I wanted to be the one to avenge you. Because I didn't want you to see what I was capable of.

"Would you have killed him if I did?" A question for a question.

Emotions warred on her face. "I don't know," she finally admitted. He understood. This aspect of the business was a difficult one. One she would eventually have to reconcile.

"I'm sorry I took the decision away from you." Because I wanted to protect you. "But he's no longer a threat."

Ilaria looked at him. He thought he saw a tiny bit of relief. She clucked her tongue. "Fine. Come with me back to Chicago. But I get a say in what goes on."

He was going to regret this, but if this was the only way to get her willing participation, then he'd agree. "Yes."

"And we need to set some initial ground rules," she declared. "You can't live with me." He frowned. "My place isn't big enough, and anyway, you should be lying low, right? Can't have all the families see you coming in and out of my condo and discover that Soren MacGregor is in town."

Still frowning. He didn't like the idea that she would be out of his sight. "Then where would we stay? Rowan and Elowine are coming with us."

"I have an empty house at the edge of town," she said. "There's more space there."

"That's too far away," he argued. "I don't like you being on your own and I can't keep an eye on you."

"We don't always get what we want," she retorted, throwing his words back in his face. "I'm not going to drag you around with me everywhere I go. Especially to the office with Vincent and the rest of my family coming and going. If you insist on coming to Chicago, then this is how it's going to be."

Jesus. "Then we have to meet at the end of every day," Soren insisted. "And text throughout the day. And I'll post two of my men to watch your building."

"Fine," she sighed. "Anything else?"

"Assume there will be more things I insist on," he advised.

"And you can assume I'll have an opinion on them," Ilaria replied coolly.

He let out a long breath, willing himself to calm down. This conversation had been aggravating, but he was also stimulated. Alive. It had been a while since he felt like this.

Was he so adamant about going to Chicago with Ilaria purely out of the goodness of his heart? Definitely not. Despite all of his rationale, he still felt a desire to be around her. And now he had a legitimate reason to do so. Never mind that it was only temporary, and that when it would be time to go back to Scotland, it would be gut wrenching.

Galen clapped his hands together. "Good. I knew you two would come to an agreement. And I'm sure any future disagreements you'll be able to employ your mature and diplomatic selves to resolve. Yes?"

Both of them nodded, looking slightly sheepish.

"Of course, Galen," Soren reassured him. "You don't have to worry about us."

Any future disagreements—which were likely to be numerous—would never grace Galen's ears, they implicitly knew.

"Now I'm going to relax a bit and take a shower before we head down to the festival," he said as he shooed them out of his office.

When Galen went upstairs and was out of earshot, Soren turned to Ilaria. "For Galen's sake, let's make the best of it."

"And even if we don't, he doesn't need to know," she added. "But I'll be honest: my expectations are pretty low. You want things your way and I want mine, and I don't see us agreeing on much."

"Why can't we want the same thing and then we both get what we want?" he asked lightly.

She quirked an eyebrow in doubt. "When was the last time we agreed on anything?"

Her doubt stung, but he couldn't deny it. He couldn't remember when they had ever agreed on something without a full-out battle and significant compromise on both sides. But maybe it was time to change that.

He scanned her face. "I'm going to prove you wrong. By the end of our time together, we'll be in lock step." He stepped closer until her eyes flared. "And you're going to trust me."

Her eyes locked on his lips, and she seemed a little breathless. "Only you would think that feelings can be changed on command."

He gave her a wicked grin. "I just know that I always get what I want."

And maybe he threw down a challenge because he knew she would do everything she could to fight it, and it would be that much more satisfying when she finally submitted.