Chapter 29
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Aria
Brody did, in fact, ditch the suit as requested, and if it hadn’t been for the shock of red hair atop his head, she wasn’t sure she would have recognized him at all in the soft green sweater and jeans he’d chosen for their outing.
“You clean up well,” she said with a grin as he joined her in the foyer, and the look he sent her could only be described as withering.
“Killian said you were a brat.”
Her grin widened. “Did he? That’s so sweet.”
Snorting out a laugh, Brody shook his head. “You really are perfect for him.”
That comment should have killed her amusement.
And while it certainly dimmed it a bit, a warmth spread through her chest that might have been happiness if such a thing were possible when you were being held against your will in a very fancy prison.
She hardened herself against it as she once more gave him her best Queen of the Castle stare. “We should get going.”
To her surprise, Brody actually smiled. Not a full-on grin, but a smile nonetheless as he stepped around her to open the front door. “See? Even the way you go all icy when someone pisses you off. Classic O’Rourke. It’s like you’re one of us already.”
“I will never be an O’Rourke.”
“Keep telling yourself that, love.”
Annoyed by his observations—and more by the sneaking suspicion that he had a point—she stayed silent as he led her down to what she suspected was a heavily armored SUV. But apparently Brody was feeling chatty for once.
“So tell me about this author you’re so keen on meeting.”
Seated beside him in the car, she peeked up at him through her lashes. “Why?”
Brody lifted a shoulder as the vehicle rolled forward. “You’re my cousin’s girl. And you can stop glaring at me when I say that. Whether you marry him or not, you’re carrying his child. Which means you’re tied to us through blood, as much as you may dislike it.”
“That doesn’t mean we have to be friends.”
“Maybe not, but it would certainly make things more pleasant, don’t you think?”
She didn’t want to make nice with the mafia. But, as he’d pointed out, she was carrying Killian’s child. Did she really want to spend the rest of her life fighting with him and his whole family over every little thing?
Maybe.
But not only did that sound exhausting, it wouldn’t be fair to her child.
“She writes mafia romance.” She could have stopped there, but as he’d pointed out, she was a bit of a brat.
“Really kinky mafia romance. I swear every time you turn around in one of her books someone’s getting tied up and spanked. Sometimes both.”
“She got that part right, at least.”
Okay, well, she hadn’t expected that response. Though she probably should have, given what she knew of his cousin. Nope, cousins, plural. Reagan was kinky, too.
Jesus, it really must be genetic.
Nope, nope, nope, not going down that road.
Suddenly desperate to change the topic, she switched gears. “It’s much more exciting in the books than in real life. A lot more gunfire, for starters.”
Because she’d been watching him while they talked, she saw the moment his expression closed off and she could have kicked herself. “We’ve had more than our fair share of violence.”
“I’m sorry, Brody.” And she was, more than she could say. “I read about what happened to your parents. I shouldn’t have… I’m sorry.”
“It is what it is.”
Fuck, she really was the worst kind of asshole. Wanting to make him smile again, she ran through what she knew of Goldie’s books for another topic. “Oh! What about arranged marriages?”
One eyebrow raising in a look that mimicked his cousin so closely it was rather disconcerting, he glanced down at her. “What about them?”
“Well, that’s kind of this author’s thing.
Arranged mafia marriages. Someone is forever being forced to marry someone as part of a business deal or because the hero is obsessed with the heroine so he blackmails her family or he takes her to pay a debt or something.
It’s actually kind of impressive how many different ways she’s come up with to force someone into a marriage. ”
Like getting knocked up by a mob boss after a one-night stand.
Ugh.
To her relief, Brody’s lips twitched. “Our family never really got into the arranged marriage thing. Well, except for the one obvious exception.”
“What obvious exception is that?”
“Killian.”
Annoyed all over again, she glared up at him. “For the last time, we are not getting married.”
“Not you. Portia Williams.”
For a moment, she could swear her heart stopped. “Richard Williams’s daughter?”
“Yes.” The corners of his mouth dipped down into a frown. “You didn’t know?”
“Did I know the father of my child is engaged to another woman? No I didn’t fucking know that!”
“Was engaged. He broke it off when he found out you were pregnant. They got engaged sometime after Thanksgiving last year, if I remember correctly.”
Guilt churned in her stomach, though she tried to convince herself she had nothing to feel guilty about. She hadn’t known about Portia, and if she had there was no possible way she would have slept with Killian.
And yet, she couldn’t shake the feeling of having done something wrong.
“Well, at least I know I’m making the right call in not marrying him,” she grumbled, turning her head to stare out the window so Brody wouldn’t see the tears stinging her eyes. “Since apparently those vows mean nothing to him.”
“Those vows would mean everything to him, after they were said.”
“Right. Because there’s such a huge difference between running around on your fiancée and cheating on your wife.”
“It’s… more nuanced than that.”
She shouldn’t ask. Shouldn’t want to know. But curiosity always had been her fatal flaw. “How so?”
“Killian’s engagement to Portia was strictly a business arrangement.
One they were keeping as hushed as possible because of the nature of their business.
I can’t get into the details, but Killian and Richard were making some deals and Richard wanted his daughter protected. So he asked Killian to marry her.”
Her mind racing now, she turned back to him. “How does marrying Killian protect her? Wouldn’t that put her in more danger?”
“Yes and no. It makes her more of a target, but she was going to be one anyway, given the business Killian and Richard were discussing. If she’d married Killian, she would have had an army at her disposal, and she never would have gone anywhere without protection.
And while some people might be willing to fuck with the daughter of a new player, there are fewer who would be willing to even consider touching Killian O’Rourke’s wife. ”
“So Killian agreed to marry her to protect her, then broke things off because I showed up pregnant.” More of that guilt churned in her stomach, and if she’d actually been able to eat any of her breakfast, she might have been sick right there in the car. “So she’s in danger now? Because of me?”
“Not nearly as much, no. When Killian broke off the engagement, he learned some things about Richard that led to him cutting all of their business ties as well.”
“Still, she could be in danger.”
“She could. Which is why Killian has some friends watching over her.”
“Friends? Like, other mob people?”
“No. Members of a local motorcycle club.”
Settling back against her seat, Aria closed her eyes. “Seriously, when did my life turn into a fucking soap opera?”
“You get used to it.” Brody sounded almost chipper. “But back to your original concern. If you married Killian, you would never have to worry about him being unfaithful. Not only because he would take those vows to heart, but because you have something going for you that Portia never had.”
“What’s that?”
Looking over, Brody pinned her with a look so serious it had her stomach dropping to her knees. “The fact that Killian is wildly, madly, unreasonably in love with you.”
Aria
Twice now members of Killian’s inner circle had declared his love for her. And yet, the man himself never even broached the topic. He’d made it clear he wanted to protect her, own her, but love?
Not even a blip on his radar, as far as she could tell.
Along with, apparently, the fact that he’d had a whole fucking fiancée the night he’d knocked her up.
Those revelations plagued her the rest of the drive to the bookstore and while they stood in line, waiting to meet Goldie.
She tried to distract herself with the shiny new copy of her latest book, but shockingly enough, a book about a woman being forced to marry the mob boss who accidentally knocked her up did little to distract her from her current state of affairs.
It was, ironically, Brody who finally distracted her. Not because of anything he said, since his chattiness seemed to have dried up the second they stepped out of the car, but because he was so damn alert.
Maybe not to the casual observer. He did a really good job of appearing laidback, almost bored as he stood in line beside her. But his eyes never stopped moving, assessing, and one time he even very subtly shifted their positions so he was between Aria and the door rather than the other way around.
Even now, scanning his own copy of Goldie’s newest book, Aria could tell he was aware of every little movement around them.
“Do you ever just relax?”
He flipped a page, not even bothering to look up. “No.”
“Why?”
“Because letting your guard down is how you get killed.”
Fear coiled in her gut and she instinctively placed a hand over her stomach, as if she could shield her baby from whatever dangers may be lurking around the corner. “Do you really think a rival gang or whatever is going to attack us in broad daylight?”
“It’s been known to happen.” Another flip of a page. Was he actually reading, or just making a show of it? “But a place like this, with all these people, the feds are more of a concern.”
She had to consciously stop her jaw from falling open. “The feds? Like the FBI?”
Now he did glance up, a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips. “Yes, love, like the FBI.”
“Does the FBI come around… often?”
“Every now and then. We’re pretty much always on their radar, but they usually don’t hassle us unless we give them a reason. They’ve been on our asses more after what went down at the docks a couple months ago.”
“What went down at the docks?”
“Nothing to concern yourself with.”
He might as well have patted her like a puppy and told her not to worry her pretty little head about it.
Asshole.
But before she could interrogate him any further, it was their turn at Goldie’s table.
She was even prettier in person, with her dark hair cropped close in a style that managed to seem business-like and whimsical at the same time.
From her ears dangled a pair of gold earrings, and it took Aria a moment to realize they weren’t just random blobs, but hammerhead sharks.
The oversized blazer she wore was covered in hot pink sequins, and when she looked up, her smile shone as bright as the glittering jacket.
All in all, the effect was… dazzling was the only word that came to mind.
“Hi! Oh my gosh, I love your top. That blue really makes your eyes pop.”
Still somewhat reeling from the impact of not just seeing her new favorite author in person for the first time but also realizing that author was basically the human equivalent of a house decked out for Christmas, complete with an army of inflatable lawn ornaments, Aria blinked and looked down at her top.
It was one of those pieces that had magically appeared in her closet one day, and she hadn’t really thought anything of it when she’d put it on that morning. “Um… thanks?”
“You’re welcome.” A hint of mischief infused Goldie’s smile. “Did you want me to sign your books?”
The question knocked Aria out of her stupor. “Yes, of course. Sorry. Here you go.”
“No sorries needed, these things can be a lot,” Goldie said with a laugh as she took the book and flipped it open to the title page. “Who do I make it out to?”
“Aria.”
“Aw, that’s such a pretty name! Do you live around here, Aria?”
“Yeah. Well, now I do. I mostly grew up in Oregon, but my dad was born and raised here so I’ve spent plenty of time here too.”
“Oregon is beautiful. I love the Pacific Northwest.” Still smiling that dazzling smile, Goldie handed the book back to her and shifted her attention to Brody, her eyes brightening with interest. “Is this your husband? Boyfriend?”
“Babysitter. It’s… a long story.”
The interest in the other woman’s eyes deepened as she held out her hand for Brody’s book. “I love long stories, as you can tell by the door stopper of a book you have in your hand. What’s your name, Mr. Babysitter?”
“Just leave the name blank, thanks.”
“Curiouser and curiouser.” Goldie scratched her name onto the page and handed it back. “Enjoy the book, Mr. Babysitter No Name.”
“Read it while we were standing in line. It’s all bullshit, but I suppose that’s part of what makes it entertaining.”
For the first time, Goldie’s smile faltered. “What, exactly, do you think is bullshit?”
“All of it, pretty much. That’s not how any of it works in the real world.”
Goldie raised a haughty brow, and amusement bloomed in Aria’s chest as the two squared off. “I’m sorry, perhaps someone incorrectly shelved my book in the nonfiction section. But I assure you, Mr. No Name, it is indeed fiction.”
“Well, yeah, but the best fiction at least has some truth to it.”
Temper sparked in Goldie’s eyes. “And who exactly made you the arbiter of what’s true and what isn’t? Are you some kind of mafia expert? Do you have your PhD in Mob Affairs?”
Aria had to swallow a laugh when Brody simply smirked. “Just a guy who knows a thing or two about life.”
Before Goldie could respond, everything about Brody changed. His spine straightened, his head snapping up like an animal scenting prey. “Get down. Now!”
Her knees hit the ground before she even realized he’d touched her, and then they were under the table, chaos erupting around them. Grabbing hold of Goldie’s bright pink jacket, Brody yanked her under the table with them.
“Stay here and don’t fucking move. Either of you.”
Panic wrapped like a vice around Aria’s chest. “Wait! Where are you going?”
“Not far, I promise. Just stay put and I promise I’ll keep you safe.”
With that, he disappeared, leaving Aria cowering beneath a flimsy wooden table with one of the world’s best-selling romance authors. Goldie’s wide-eyed gaze clashed with Aria’s, and she couldn’t tell if the other woman was terrified, excited, or some odd combination of the two.
“Just a guy who knows a thing or two about life, huh?”