Broken Vow (Brutal Birthright #5) - Sophie Lark Page 0,2

me three times about how he thinks the anesthesiologists in his department are conspiring against him, after he refused to hire one of their friends.

“It’s these South Africans,” he complained, last time we went to lunch. “You hire one, and then they want you to hire their cousin or their brother-in-law, and all of a sudden the surgical unit is overrun with them.”

Plus, he seems to think that now, at the three-month mark, he’s owed a greater portion of my time. Instead of asking if I’m free Friday or Saturday night, he assumes it. He makes plans for us, and I have to tell him I’m busy with work or a family dinner.

“You know, you could invite me to dinner with your family,” he said in a sulky tone.

“It’s not a social dinner,” I told him. “We’re going over plans for phase two of the South Shore Development.”

Most dinners with my family are working dinners, one way or another. Our business and our personal ties are so deeply intertwined that I would hardly know my father, mother, or siblings outside of “work.”

The fate of our business is the fate of our family. That’s how it works in the Irish mafia.

Dean has some idea about the Griffins’ criminal ties—it would be impossible not to. We’ve been one of the largest Irish mafia families in Chicago for two hundred years.

But he doesn’t get it. Not really. He thinks of it like an interesting backstory, like people who say they’re descended from Henry the Eighth. He has no idea how current and ongoing organized crime is in Chicago.

It’s always a dilemma in my dating life. Do I want a boyfriend who’s ignorant of the dark underside of this city? Who could never really understand my entrenchment in my family? Or do I want one of the “made men” who work for my father, cracking heads and burying bodies, with blood under his fingernails and a gun perpetually concealed on his person?

Neither, really.

And not just for those reasons.

I don’t believe in love.

I’m not denying it exists—I’ve seen it happen for other people. I just don’t believe it will ever happen for me.

My love for my family is like the roots of an oak tree. A part of the tree, necessary for life. It’s always been there, and it always will be.

But romantic love . . . I’ve never experienced it. Maybe I’m just too selfish. I can’t imagine loving somebody more than I love my own comfort and having my own way.

The idea of being controlled by someone else, doing things for their convenience instead of mine . . . no thanks. I barely tolerate that for my family. Why would I want to center my life around a man?

I pack up my briefcase. Before I leave, I sneak into Josh’s filthy, cluttered office and steal back the purchase agreements off his desk. I started them, and I plan to finish them, regardless of what Uncle Oran says. He won’t notice—I’ll be done with them before Josh would even have looked at them. With my briefcase satisfyingly heavy, I head out of the office tower on East Wacker Drive. I walk home, because my condo is only four blocks away from work.

I bought the condo just this summer. It’s in a brand-new building with a gorgeous fitness center and swimming pool. There’s a doorman, and a fantastic view from my living room up on the twenty-eighth floor.

It was past time. I’d been living in my parents’ mansion on the Gold Coast. Their house is so huge that there was plenty of space for everyone—no real reason to leave. Plus it was convenient to all be in the same house together, whenever we needed to go over business-related material.

But then Cal got married, and he and Aida found their own place. And Nessa left too, to be with Mikolaj. Then it was just me alone with my parents, with the distasteful sensation of having been left behind by my siblings.

I have no interest in getting married like they did, but I could certainly move out.

So that’s what I did. I got the condo. And I love it. I love the quiet and the space. The feeling of being on my own for the first time in my life.

I wave to Ronald, the doorman, and take the elevator up to my apartment. I change out of my blazer, blouse, and slacks, putting on a one-piece swimsuit instead. Then I grab my waterproof headphones and head up