Loving the Ruthless Mafia Man

Pressure

Chapter 5

Pressure

(Lia’s POV)

“No,” I said with finality.

I moved across the country to escape the pain this man had given me, and I couldn’t stand here now, listening to him. Distance had helped clear my mind, and I needed to maintain that.

“Lia…”

I took in a low, steady breath and shook my head. “I would prefer to maintain a professional boundary, Mr. Kavanagh. You can call me Miss Montgomery.”

Aiden smirked. “No.”

I was livid. Aiden hadn’t lost his touch. He was as aggravating as I remembered… when I thought I was more than a burden to him. When I thought of him as a friend, if not anything else. But we were nothing, and he had no right to act this way around me.

“We really do, Lia. You can’t run from me. You definitely cannot run from the Irish Mob,” Aiden reminded me.

I chuckled darkly. “I’m not running from anyone. I just stepped away from a place I didn’t belong. A place the head of the Irish Mob himself told me I do not belong to.”

Aiden looked away from me, running his hand through his wavy dark hair.

“Well, like I said, Savannah will process your refund,” I repeated as I turned to leave.

But I could feel his eyes on me, as unrelenting as ever, and I knew he wasn’t going to let me leave that easily.

“Your family has requested your return. Immediately,” Aiden said, his tone cool and matter-of-fact.

“Excuse me?” I turned back to face him.

“Your uncle Seamus has requested you return to Boston,” he repeated, as if that alone explained everything.

The nerve of this man.

“And he sent you to deliver this message instead of calling me himself?” I shot back, my voice sharp. “My aunt and uncle are perfectly content with me living in California, and I have no intention of ever returning to Boston.”

I crossed my arms, glaring up at him, daring him to argue. But, of course, Aiden Kavanagh wasn’t the type to back down.

“Not anymore,” Aiden replied coolly. “I was already in LA when the decision was made. Your uncle asked me to deliver the news to you in person. You need to pack up and come home.” He emphasized the word home again, as if trying to drill the idea into my head.

Boston was not home. I didn’t have a home. Not since I lost my parents. I had been delusional to think that where Aiden Kavanagh was, that was home.

“I'm not going back,” I said firmly, though my voice wavered ever so slightly. “I don’t want to be there, and I know you don’t want me there either. So, you can leave, and I’ll talk to my aunt and uncle myself.”

His expression darkened, his jaw tightening. “Do not speak for me, Cordelia. And do not make me repeat myself. You will be returning. Tonight.”

I shook my head, the panic rising in my chest. “No.”

“Yes,” he said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. “You can talk to your aunt and uncle about it when we get back there.”

I felt my control slipping. My breaths came quicker, my chest tightening as the thought of going back to Boston clawed at me.

“I... I can’t go back,” I stammered. “I have my life here now. I have a boyfriend and friends—”

The words were barely out of my mouth before I saw his eyes flash with an anger I recognized all too well. The same anger I had painted.

Instinctively, I took a step back, but Aiden closed the distance, grabbing my hand. The hand I had hurt last night.

I flinched, the pain jolting through me, and his eyes widened as he noticed. His gaze flicked to my arm, and before I could stop him, he pulled my sleeve aside to reveal my wrist.

The burn stood out stark against my skin, and I saw his expression shift—anger, disbelief, and something else I couldn’t quite place.

Before he could say or do anything, I yanked my hand out of his grip and turned my head away, unable to meet his eyes.

“Who did that?” he asked, his voice low and deadly, dripping with so much fury that I cringed.

“It’s nothing,” I replied, cradling my arm. “There’s no reason for the fake concern, Mr. Kavanagh.”

“Tell. Me. Who. Hurt. You.”

I could feel the anger radiating off him, thick and oppressive like a storm cloud ready to burst.

But I refused to say anything. I didn’t owe Aiden Kavanagh an explanation. I didn’t owe him anything at all.

The silence between us stretched, heavy and tense, as I silently prayed, he would let it be. But, of course, Aiden wasn’t the type to let anything slide.

“Cordelia,” he said, his voice dropping an octave, laced with a warning that sent a shiver down my spine. He spoke my name like a demand, as if saying it would be enough to make me fold.

I ignored the way his voice affected me, the way it twisted something deep in my gut, and instead forced myself to meet his gaze. A smile curved on my lips, sharp and defiant.

“Mr. Kavanagh,” I said coolly, my tone cutting. “I believe it’s none of your f*****g business.”

An unreadable emotion flickered in Aiden's eyes, but it was gone as quickly as it appeared. Before I could make sense of it, he grabbed my other arm, his grip firm but not painful.

“Listen to me, Cord—”

“What the hell is going on here?”

That voice sent a cold rush down my spine, freezing me in place.

I yanked my arm free from Aiden’s grasp and turned to face my boyfriend, Oliver. His expression was dark, his jaw tight as his sharp gaze flicked between me and Aiden.

“Lia. Who is this man?” Oliver’s voice cut through the thick tension, his British accent sharper than usual.

I swallowed hard, a lump forming in my throat. “This is Aiden Kavanagh,” I replied.

But I knew that wasn’t the answer Oliver wanted. A name wasn’t enough. He wanted to know why this man had been touching me. The look in his eyes promised what would happen later… what he’d “accidentally” do to me as punishment.

I needed a moment to think, to find a way to de-escalate, to keep these men apart. If Oliver found out that the blue eyes I had obsessively painted for years belonged to the man standing in front of us, I didn’t know how he would react—or what he would do to me.

“Lia.” Oliver said my name again, his voice colder this time, a warning laced with control.

I didn’t know what to tell Oliver. All he knew about my family was the surface-level story: that my aunt and uncle were wealthy. I’d worked hard to keep the truth hidden, to keep everyone, including Oliver in the dark about who my uncle really was and how they had achieved their wealth.

The details of their business were secrets I would carefully guard. All anyone knew was that they’d paid for my education and my apartment in LA.

“This is Aiden Kavanagh,” I said, forcing a calm smile. “A family friend of my uncle’s… and a business partner.”

It wasn’t a lie. Aiden’s family and my uncle’s family were close. He was my cousin Ronin’s best friend and, more importantly, he was the head of the business and the Boston Mob. But it was best if Oliver didn’t know that one detail.

Oliver’s attention shifted back to Aiden. “What brings you here?” he asked, stepping closer to me and slipping his arm around my waist. His fingers dug into my hip, and I tried not to flinch.

Aiden’s dark eyes flicked to Oliver’s hand on me, and something in his expression shifted.

“I brought a message for Cordelia,” Aiden said, his voice deceptively calm.

“What was the message?” Oliver demanded, his annoyance evident.

“It’s been delivered,” Aiden replied smoothly, the hint of a smirk on his lips.

Oliver’s expression darkened. He wasn’t used to being stonewalled. His charisma and domineering personality usually ensured that people bent to his will. Aiden wasn’t the bendable type.

Oliver’s grip on my hip tightened further until it was bruising.

I had to step in. I couldn’t let this escalate.

“My uncle has requested I visit Boston,” I said carefully, hoping to defuse the tension.

“It wasn’t a request,” Aiden interjected, his voice firm and laced with authority. His words were a reminder of my uncle’s power, of the kind of man he was, and the command that had come with the original message.

“You’re not going,” Oliver said, his tone final, not even sparing me a glance.

Oliver tried to pull me away, but Aiden grabbed my arm and forcefully pulled me away from him.

“You can’t stop her.”