Tame Me (The Macintyre Brothers 3)

"Everything's possible. What about the rooftop?"

We went upstairs to the rooftop area that came with the penthouse apartment. The building itself was only ten stories tall so we weren't up too high. There was nothing there and the space would have to be completely built anew.

"We want easy access from the apartment. We want a hot tub and a patio area with a covered barbecue. Plus, lots of planters for flowers. Maybe a more solid structure so we can spend a lot of time out there when the weather's nice."

"Sounds good to me," Michael said. "I can get a couple of my designers out to view the place and start plans as soon as you close the deal and have access. Renovations won't be too extensive, and I can probably get it done in a couple of months once we start."

"Great," I said and gave Ella a hug. "I can't wait to get started."

"Me, either. I never thought I'd be able to buy a place in Manhattan, let alone overlooking Central Park," she said. "It feels like I'm dreaming."

"It's not a dream," I said. "You'll have your own place. Hopefully, it will all be ready by the time we come back from our honeymoon. In the meantime, we'll have to pick out colors and fixtures, appliances and decor. You'll be kept busy."

"I'm up for the job," she said with a smile.

* * *

We went out for a drink with Michael after the viewing and caught up with him and his life. He'd always been his own man and had rebelled against my father's focus on politics and media. He was the kid who wanted the toy front end loader and tractor, spending his time in the sandbox at the playground digging holes and building sand forts. He went to university to study engineering but really liked carpentry and renovating old buildings. When he went into the military, he was part of the Army Corps of Engineers. He liked to build things -- things that would last decades or even hundreds of years.

He enjoyed managing projects, taking them from the preliminary concept phase through to completion and was one of the most successful builders in Manhattan.

I had no doubt about how well his company was doing. What I wanted to know was how well his personal life was going and whether he was dating anyone seriously. I guess I wanted him to be as happy as I was.

"How's your love life?" I asked, getting right to the point. "Anyone in particular you're seeing or serious about? Last time I checked, you were unattached and happy to stay that way."

He shrugged. "I've got a few years of bachelorhood ahead of me, I figure. Dad's incentivized trust fund isn't going to encourage me either way."

"Oh, yeah," Ella said and turned to me. "I forgot about that. Is that why you're so eager to marry me?" she said with narrow eyes. "You want to get your first installment?"

My jaw dropped open at that and for a moment, I thought she was serious. Then I saw the corner of her mouth crook up in a barely suppressed grin.

"Oh, you," I said and bent down to kiss her. "You almost had me."

She finally laughed out loud. "Oh, the expression on your face was priceless," she said and turned to Michael. "Wasn't it?"

"It was," he replied and held up his beer in a toast. "You got him good."

It was while I was lifting my beer up to my lips that Jerome, one of our bodyguards, came over, bent down and whispered in my ear. Immediately, alarm bells went off in my head.

"Mr. Fedora's across the street from the bar," Jerome had said.

From that distance, I couldn't make out his face in detail as I glanced out the storefront window, but the man I saw looked very much like Mr. Fedora. Standing on the other side of the street with a paper in his hands, he was scanning the sidewalk beside him.

"Wait here," I said, determined to confront the man myself. "Follow me," I said to Jerome. "I'm going to have a little chat with him."

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nbsp; Jerome tried to stand in my way. "I wouldn't advise it, Sir," he said, holding up a hand. "That's why you hired me. I'll go and have a little chat with him."

Now, I'm big as far as height and weight goes, but Jerome was really big. Six-five, two-hundred and thirty, give or take a pound. Mostly muscle. His suits were tight across the shoulders and biceps. His shaved head and goatee added a look of professional danger to him.

"Please, Josh," Ella said, her hand on my arm. "He's right. Let him deal with this."

I sat back down on the bar stool and shook my head. "Okay. You're probably right. Go and see what he has to say for himself."

"I can't do anything if he's not threatening you," Jerome said. "But I can deliver a message. I can tell him that you're protected and that he's being watched. If he gets within twenty feet of you, I'll consider it a threat. He won't like the way I deal with a threat."

"What would you do?" Ella asked.