Heart of Steele Page 3

"I'm the youngest of seven. I can't imagine what it's like being an only child." She tilted her head, regarding him. He knew Moretti was from a big California family - he'd done his homework - but when Autumn said it, her brown eyes warm, he could imagine the happy family life she had.

  "You probably get this a lot, but was it lonely?" She was watching him closely, a sweet sympathy furrowing her brow.

  In reality, Magnus had a younger brother, so he didn't exactly know if being an only child was lonely, but he could wing it.

  "It could get lonely sometimes." He shrugged. "Holidays were great." His expression brightened and he winked at her.

  Autumn's lips quirked. "Yeah, I bet."

  "How about you? Sounds like you grew up in a crazy house."

  "Oh totally." She mused, staring into the fire. "Growing up was pretty chaotic, but with plenty of space to accommodate all of us. My family owns a vineyard in Los Olivos." She glanced at him. "That's near Santa Barbara."

  "Oh?" He feigned surprise. He already knew all of this.

  She nodded. "It's where we grew up. My parents expanded the vineyard from thirty acres to 350. All of us kids pitched in. We had to help even though we had great, knowledgeable people working for us. Papa said he wanted us to have pride in the land."

  She glanced up. "He came from Italy. His parents had some land on the Amalfi coast. Not a huge amount, but enough to have some olive and lemon trees." She shrugged, biting her lip. "It was all he knew."

  "You've been to Italy?" Magnus asked.

  "We spent summers with my grandparents, and we lived there for a few years after my father died."

  Magnus made a quick study of her face. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes glassy. The small amount of rum was having an effect. Her warm glow made his body heat, and he tried to lighten the atmosphere, his hands clamping down on his mug so he wouldn't lean over and kiss her rum-tinged lips.

  "Do you go home during the summers?"

  "I do." She stifled a yawn.

  "Let me get that for you." Magnus gently took the cup from her hands and brought both to the kitchen.

  When he came back, he stood in front of the fire, warming his hands. He looked up and caught her eyes on his ass. He repressed a smile when her gaze traveled back to his face and her eyes widened, a blush cresting her cheeks. He just smiled, pretending not to notice.

  "So I need a date for this masquerade Friday; I was wondering if you'd like to go with me." He said quietly holding her gaze.

  "The masquerade?" She blinked, sitting up and pulling her arms around her legs. "But...I don't have anything to wear."

  "Oh that's not a problem. They've got extras." He waited, a hope that went beyond his need for revenge filling him.

  "It's okay if you invite me?" She was hesitant. He liked this shy side of her too. There wasn't a side he didn't like so far.

  "Yeah, it's fine."

  Autumn stared into the flames. "Yes. Yes, I'd like to." She said suddenly, bringing those beautiful eyes up to his. He struggled not to hold her gaze and pull her into his arms. Later. Don't fucking ruin things.

  "Great. It should be fun." In more ways than she realized. Thoughts of his mouth on her body almost made him groan, and he made a beeline for his coat.

  "So that's settled. I better get going. I was wondering if it would be okay if Brewster and I walked with you again tomorrow."

  Her eyes lit up. Good, he must have made an impression. He hadn't been sure how Mike Connor and little Brewster would do, but they seemed to have done fine, more than fine by the look on her face.

  "That would be nice." She nodded.

  Magnus grabbed his coat. "Hey thanks for the drink, Autumn. See you tomorrow."

  "See you." Her eyes lingered on him, and he wondered how much of that interest was the drink and how much her true feelings.

  He locked the door before closing it with a soft click. Trudging over the hill, he took the now well-trodden path in the snow, the one he knew well enough led to his own front door.

  He smiled. She liked his ass.

  Chapter Five

  "Are you fucking kidding me?" Magnus's brow dipped in a scowl. "They're giving the contract to MacDowell?"

  "You wanna let Tony handle Moretti's sister so you can get down to the city?" Jamie asked, leaning back in his chair.

  Hell no.

  "Tony? Seducing the Moretti girl?" Magnus cocked his head and frowned at his friend. Jamie raised an eyebrow unfazed by Magnus's sudden and unwarranted mocking disapproval.

  They both knew Tony could seduce ninety-percent of the women in New York. Magnus's stare-down of Jamie wasn't going to change that, but the thought of Tony's hands all over Autumn made Magnus physically sick.

  He didn't need to let Jamie know that.

  So he shrugged.

  "I've got this. I'll be down Monday." Magnus breathed in quick and deep through his nose. He wasn't only pissed because the city was about to give MacDowell his building contract, but now the image of Tony touching Autumn's naked body was pushing him into a rage.

  What the fuck?

  He stood abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor. He shoved back his suit jacket, hands on hips as he glared at nothing in particular.

  "We've got files on some of the city council members. You want to use them?" Jamie asked, eyeing Magnus curiously.

  He shook his head. "No, not for this. MacDowell's a hack. The council fucking knows it. The building won't even pass code if he touches it. Obviously, MacDowell's already got something on one of the council members, so it's not the council I need to convince, it's MacDowell. Set up a meeting."

  Jamie nodded.

  "Go on." Magnus gestured with his head, prompting Jamie to continue with his laundry list.

  "Had to fire one of the girls. The new one. Candy. She was smoking meth in the stockroom." Jamie's expression had a hint of sympathy. Magnus was used to it. Jamie cared about people. Not a fatal flaw, just not practical.

  "Just her?" He had a hardline rule about drugs. He didn't have the time or the patience for the girls or any of his employees to be fucked up on anything. His clubs attracted enough scum; they didn't need drugs and other shit bringing it down to the seedy levels of other clubs.

  "Just her. I had everyone checked out."

  "Good. Anything else?"

  "Taylor's asking for another loan."

  Magnus smirked. "Some good news. Give it to him. What's he buying?"

  Jamie glanced down, his features tense. "Heroin."

  His employees weren't allowed to use, but his cousin was a different story.

  Magnus crossed to the window. "Fucking idiot. Little cuz strung out." Music to my ears.

  Thoughts of his uncle's family invaded his mind like a disease and brought the usual resentment. His cousins had been getting the same fucking treatment that their father had given Magnus's family. He watched and assisted as they hit bottom.

  But even now when they were all ruined and begging shit off him, he could still feel the desperation of the kid he used to be, desperately wanting their kinship, their approval.

  He'd wanted to be like them, a happy family, comfortable and secure. Instead, his mother had been tossed the scraps, and he'd been bullied in school by the cousins he had worshipped.

  Connor Construction was supposed to belong to his mom and her brother, but the business had been hijacked by his uncle who had pushed Magnus's dad out until Michael Steele had no self-worth left and committed suicide.

  His uncle had pretended to care, throwing scraps to his sister and her kids for appearance's sake, but never really helping. Eventually they'd had to get on government assistance.

  It had gotten worse when his mother had applied and fought for a scholarship to the same private school his three cousins attended, he in upper school and Patrick in lower.

  He and his brother had been so fucking happy they'd be going to the same school as their cousins, those elusive kids they worshipped from afar.

  But instead of bein
g some of the best days of his childhood, they were the worst, opening his eyes to the bullshit that was his uncle's family.

  His cousins had told everyone he was a welfare kid and the son of a coward. He had quickly understood that the image he'd had of them had been that...just an image, an illusion. Anger took over, the bitterness burning a hole in his stomach.

  "Magnus." Jamie's voice was quiet, but firm. He was used to these moments. Magnus occasionally drifted into his ugly past, and Jamie would help him come back to the present, which was a fucking great present.

  Now he was the one with all the money and power. His uncle's family, excluding his uncle who had died five years ago after Magnus had systematically destroyed his construction business, all lived at his whim. Derek, Taylor and Marie. Every one of them had nothing, and he'd assisted them as they spiraled out of control. What's family for?

  He turned, putting that old shit out of his mind.

  "Yeah, it's ok. I'm ok." He assured Jamie in a low voice, pulling out a cigarette and sticking it in his mouth. He didn't light it; just left it dangling from his lips.

  Jamie watched him, lips quirking.

  "Why the fuck you looking at me like that?" Magnus demanded, but his lips were twitching too. "You think I can't stick a fucking smoke in my mouth and not light it?"

  "You wanna know what I think?"

  "Not really."

  Jamie ignored him, concern replacing his smile. "I think that son of a bitch uncle of yours has been haunting you for too long. It's time to kick him the fuck out of your head."

  Magnus sprawled in his chair.

  "You know that isn't possible. My dear, departed uncle, may he rest in peace," He said mockingly, putting a hand to his heart. "is the reason for all of this." He gestured with a wide sweep of his arms.

  "Without him, I would've inherited the family empire and never had the chance to make such exemplary friends, like MacDowell and Sinclair."

  He smirked. "I might've been a spoiled, weak, sorry motherfucker banging uptight socialites."

  Jamie shook his head with a chuckle. "So, put a bouquet of hemlock on his grave and leave him where he does the most good - in the ground."

  Jamie paused, his expression full of amusement. "You ever bang a socialite?"

  Magnus let out an explosive breath. "If I had, I wouldn't admit it to you."

  Jamie laughed, standing up. "Don't go falling in love with the Moretti girl, Magnus. Then you would be a sorry motherfucker."

  Magnus scowled. "Have I ever been that fucking stupid?" But he had to force the comment as thoughts of Autumn made his heart beat faster.

  Jamie regarded him steadily. "Not recently."

  When Jamie left, Magnus picked up his phone. He stared at it, deep in thought, rubbing the plastic with his thumb. He took a long breath and typed in a number.

  On the second ring, a man answered.

  "Hey Magnus."

  "Patrick. How's it going, man?" He felt his chest clench tight around an ache. Why did he always get so fucking emotional talking to his little brother. Patrick was a man now, not someone he needed to protect anymore.

  "I'm doing great. How about you?" His brother sounded like he was smiling. Happy to hear from him. If he only knew what kind of man his big brother really was, he'd be ashamed.

  "Same stuff, you know. How's your film going?"

  "It's frickin amazing. Production is a hell of a lot different than camera work." He began, telling Magnus about the newest movie he was working on as a first-time producer.

  They talked for a while, Magnus never revealing much about himself.

  "Hey, tell mom a package is coming for her. Let her know I'll call her soon."

  "Yeah, man. Sure."

  When he hung up, he went to the window and stared out at nothing. He hadn't seen his family in years. He could never go to them. There was no place for him in their lives. His hands were dirty, stained by the things he'd done. It would always be this way. He needed to make final peace with it.

  Chapter Six

  20 years earlier

  "How does it feel to be the son of a loser?" His cousin's words worked their way into his gut, mixing with the other taunts and insults Derek had heaped on him for the last three months.

  They were in the cafeteria at Bishop O'Leary's. His mother had worked hard to get him and Patrick scholarships to the private school. She'd hoped they could grow up alongside their cousins, be better off, but he knew that would never happen. Her fantasy of the good Connor cousins had been a dream. At thirteen he knew it and hated himself for ever believing it. And he hated his cousin and his family for their contempt.

  His fingers curled into a fist, a fist he'd never used but had dreamed of using, imagining how Derek would look when Magnus's fist went flying toward his face.

  He swung, pivoted, and threw with all his might. His knuckles connected with Derek's jaw, slamming him sideways into one of the pillars that separated the food line from the tables.

  The thud echoed through the room and the group of students standing in line turned wide-eyed as he crumpled to the floor.

  Both Magnus and his cousin were suspended for a week, but when he went back to school after the week's suspension, the taunting didn't stop. Derek recruited his friends to do the bullying, so he wouldn't get in trouble.

  Magnus told his mother, and she complained to the administration whose pathetic response was that unless they had evidence of threats or physical harm, there wasn't much they could do.

  He stopped telling his mother and handled it himself, getting into fights almost daily, until he was kicked out for good. Since it was three months before school was out for the summer, he stayed home and finished his seventh-grade work.

  Patrick stayed until school ended for the year, but didn't go back the next year. Magnus told his mom if Patrick continued going to O'Leary, he would eventually have all three cousins making his life miserable. He and Patrick ended up at the local schools instead.

  His mother didn't do well after that. Even at his young age, he knew she felt betrayed by her brother. Her illusions of a loving family were shattered. They'd been getting barely any help from his uncle who had more than enough money, that she was finally forced to acknowledge the truth. He had been doing the bare minimum to keep her naively hopeful while the situation became more and more hopeless.

  His mom cried a lot after that. Magnus couldn't understand the depth of evil in his uncle, and he couldn't stop his own frustrated tears when he realized how much that man hated them, had purposely tried to destroy them, and had succeeded by setting of a chain of events that led to his dad's death.

  It didn't take long before his mom's tears turned into depression. She started drinking heavily and taking painkillers. Men started coming to the house.

  One night Magnus came home late from a friend's, he walked in on one of those men in his and Patrick's room, talking to his little brother. Magnus stared the man down until he left.

  "What happened. Did he touch you?"

  Patrick shook his head. "He just said he might be my dad, and we could hang out and play video games together and stuff like that."

  Magnus pressed his lips together in feral rage. The dipshit had just started coming to the house. Why would he even say something like that to Patrick?

  He told his mom not to let the man come back. She was weaker, mentally and physically, and at first she didn't understand what he was saying. When she finally did, she went pale, stumbling to her feet.

  "Of course he won't be allowed here anymore." She went to Patrick and hugged him, squishing his face against her chest while she cried.

  "Mom. Mom." Magnus pulled her away, so she wouldn't scare Paddy. "He's good, mom." He smiled reassuringly at her and his little brother. "Patrick and I will make dinner. You rest, okay?"

  Magnus's focus shifted that day. He'd been worried about his mom, keeping her safe, making sure the guys who came over didn't hurt her. Now, he realized Patrick could be in danger too. He h
ad to keep them both safe, no matter what.

  His fears increased as his mother started losing her focus, the drugs and alcohol clouding her mind. The men coming to the house gradually became worse.

  Sometimes Magnus heard sounds from her bedroom, whimpering, moans, like she was being hurt, but he knew those sounds could be sex and he couldn't tell the difference. He'd pace his room, not knowing what to do, wanting to put his hands over his ears, but instead he'd bang on her door to make sure she was okay.

  There was always a chance he'd draw fire to himself and then he wouldn't be able to protect Patrick or his mother, but he couldn't just sit there, doing nothing.

  One night he did attract the violent attention he'd tried to avoid. He heard the hit, a sickening sound of fist meeting flesh, and then a thud, and he knew this time it was not his paranoid imagination.

  One of those boyfriends had hit his mother, and Magnus didn't waste time knocking. He slammed the door open and launched himself at the guy, his own fists flying, feet kicking. He was only fifteen. He didn't have the body mass or muscle to be much of a deterrent, and the guy flung him off and went for his mother again.

  Magnus ran to his room.

  "Patrick, go to the Walkers' back yard and wait for me there." He yanked the quilt from their bed. "Here, take this. Go straight there and stay out of sight of cars and don't go into any other yards. Understand?"

  Patrick's eleven-year-old face went pale. Magnus picked him up and hoisted him through the window.

  "Go."

  His little brother stumbled forward, looking back once as Magnus ran back to the kitchen, grabbed the phone and dialed 911.

  "What is your location?"

  He was talking too fast. He took a quick breath. He gave them the address again and answered their questions as calmly as he could while he was fighting back tears and his mother was struggling for her life.

  "Please hurry. He'll kill her."

  His last words squeezed his chest, and he ran to his mother's room where she lay on the floor, her eyes wide, her hands up to shield herself from the hulk hovering over her.

  "Hey you! Stupid ass." Magnus yelled from the doorway. Guys like him hated being called stupid. It was the one thing he could use to get him away from her. The guy twisted around, his face red.