Chapter 3 - The King in the Shadows
The library was vast, two stories high, lined with thousands of leather-bound books and floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking a private snow-covered courtyard.
In the center of the room, positioned near a roaring stone fireplace, sat a man in a sleek, custom chrome wheelchair.
Connor Kavanaugh.
He was in his early thirties, with thick dark wavy hair, a sharp, angular jaw covered in dark stubble, and broad shoulders that strained against the fabric of a pristine white button-down shirt. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, exposing thick forearms covered in dark, intricate tattoos that stretched up his neck and disappeared under his collar.
His legs were covered by a dark cashmere blanket, resting motionless on the footplates of the chair.
Six months ago, Connor Kavanaugh—the undisputed king of Boston’s shipping docks and underground financial networks—had been ambushed at a dockland warehouse. A sniper bullet had shattered his spine, leaving him paralyzed from the waist down.
He turned his head slowly as I stepped into the room.
His eyes were a striking, storm-cloud grey—piercing, cold, and entirely devoid of mercy.
"Sadie Lawson," Connor said. His voice was a low, resonant rumble that seemed to vibrate through the floorboards. "The waitress from Rosalie's."
I stood straight, my hand resting instinctively over my apron-hidden belly beneath my coat. "Mr. Kavanaugh."
He didn't look at my face first. He looked at my coat, then down at my worn boots, and finally at my eyes.
"You didn't ask Liam why you were brought here," Connor noted, leaning back in his chair, his large, tattooed hands resting on the wheels.
"Because I already knew," I said quietly. "You own my debt. You own my brother's freedom. People like you don't offer favors without a price."
A faint, dangerous smirk touched the corner of his lips.
"Intelligent," Connor murmured. "Most people who come into this room cry. They plead. They offer me loyalty they don't possess."
He wheeled his chair forward, the rubber tires gliding silently across the thick Persian rug until he stopped three feet in front of me.
"Your fiancé took out loans with three different loan sharks before he wrapped his car around a telephone pole," Connor said coldly. "Your brother Toby broke federal wire transfer laws trying to cover your mother's nursing home fees. In twenty-four hours, both of them would be destroyed."
May you like
"And you stopped them," I said, my chest tightening. "Why?"
"Because I need someone inside this house who has no loyalty to my family," Connor revealed, his eyes narrowing into sharp slits. "Someone who owes me everything, but fears me enough to tell the truth."
