Chapter Thirteen #2
“Hold up now,” Maisie starts howling with laughter. “You’re telling me that all this time, you’ve been a mafia princess? I know this is serious, but I canna get over that.”
“Yeah, more like a mafia scullery maid,” I correct her.
“Taylor, that son of a bitch, used me to terrify Mom, to get her to do what he wanted.” I rub my knuckles against my chest, the guilt there is an ache I can’t seem to soothe.
“I’d noticed that she’d been so stressed lately, she wasn’t sleeping and was so jumpy.
I was going to take her to lunch to cheer her up.
God, why didn’t I notice it sooner? I could have stopped her-”
“No, ye dinnae do this,” she interrupts me. “Thinking you’re personally responsible for everyone else. You’ve been doing it for me all through school, apologizing when I was the one who got us into trouble. This clan has faced worse than arseface Taylor. We’ll get through this.”
Her clear green eyes are on mine, so sincere. “Remember our conversation the other day?” I force myself to ask, “Before I got the call from Mom?”
Her brow furrows. “Aye?”
“You talked about security breaches, all these little disasters piling up over the last few months. What if they blame those on Mom?” My stomach feels like it’s trying to force the results of our cookie binge back up my throat. “She’s… they already know she’s betrayed the clan once.”
Taking my shaking hands in hers, Maisie squeezes them until I look up and meet her gaze. “Honey, no one believes your mum is a criminal mastermind. Do ye believe that this mess with the Yakuza shipment is the only thing she’s involved in?”
“Without a doubt,” I say instantly. “If there was something else, she would have told me.”
Maisie nods firmly. “Then they’ll find the other bastards responsible.
I know Georges and Xenia are working round the clock and Michael has the cousins sent out to all four corners of the globe, tracking down intel.
Da’s been calling in favors from allies and they’re spying for us, too. It’ll be a skoosh.”
“A skoosh?” I laugh.
“Aye,” she says. “A skoosh. Now give me another brownie.”
Mom comes back to the table and we talk about other, less dangerous topics for the next hour or two, funny stories about things that happened at university.
How Daisy's ex-boyfriend got arrested for a drunk and naked serenade underneath our dorm window one night in late spring.
“Aye," Maisie howls. "It was mighty chilly outside and the poor lad's tadger was the size of his pinky. "
Mom is giggling uncontrollably, her face pink. Not for the first time, I wonder if she had ever wanted to get married again, to fall in love and maybe have more children after everything disintegrated for us so quickly.
I’d asked her once if she wanted to date. I was sixteen at the time and I noticed one of the guards had a bit of a crush on her. She’d dismissed it, saying she had enough to keep her busy. Looking back, I suspect she was too worried that she’d let our true identities slip.
And again, I'm reminded of how much I owe her.
Our smiles fade when there's a knock on the door. "Mrs. MacTavish?" Ian’s voice is polite and level. "Your husband has asked me to bring ye to the main house."
My heart sinks with a leaden thump. For a few brief hours, it felt like it always had, growing up in this house. Sitting in the kitchen with Mom and my best friend, laughing and talking. His words abruptly drag me back to the reality of who and what I am now.
"I'll come with ye,” Maisie says, hauling me up from the chair. "Give your mum a hug and let's be on our way."
Mom finds a smile for me and squeezes me hard. “It will be okay,” she whispers. “You’ve done harder things.”
I lean back, “Really?”
“Well… you can do hard things. Don’t forget it.”
My steps get slower as we head back down the path to the point where Maisie is almost hauling me along. I'd worn one of my nicest sundresses today, trying to look good. But approaching the grandeur of the MacTavish mansion, I feel the same as I always do.
Like the help.
"Ladies, come and join us,” Mala says. She's standing by the huge double doors to the office with a warm smile for Maisie and a slightly more guarded one for me. The Chieftain and Michael are sitting around the conference table, ties loosened, and there’s a roll of papers - plans from something, I think - spread out between them.
Michael casually rolls it up as we walk in.
Georges is there too, and he picks up his laptop. “I'll just be on my way." He's the first one of the MacTavish staff to look directly at me and give me a little smile. I know how acutely, painfully shy he is and it makes his effort mean all the more to me.
Michael moves from the conference table, holding out his hand for me to come and sit beside him on the couch. Maisie slouches in one of the armchairs with her legs thrown over the side, not quite glaring at her parents for being so reserved with me.
It’s not like I can blame them.
"The annual MacTavish Foundation Gala is this Saturday," Mala says.
"We thought this would be a good time to introduce Sophie as Michael's new bride. Maisie, why don’t you arrange a time to go get fitted for a couple of new evening gowns?
" She gives her daughter a wink. “I doubt that will be much hardship for you.” Mala nods at me.
“I know you're not quite the fan of shopping that my daughter is, but you're going to need some formal wear, so this is a good time to get started. "
I know what she’s trying to politely say, that my wardrobe - which is primarily eclectic thrift store finds and Temu bargains - isn't going to cut it for MacTavish high society. Still, I appreciate her kindness in putting it tactfully.
"Oh, grand!” Maisie says brightly. "Plus, we can stop by Tiffany's, and see if we can find a proper wedding ring for ye," she shoots her brother a venomous glance. “Since certain people cannot seem to be bothered."
I cringe so hard, I can feel my spine compress. Maybe not the time for this discussion, I groan internally.
Michael's mouth tightens slightly. "I'll take care of the ring," he says coolly. “You two just concentrate on evening wear."
The Chieftain has been sitting silently this entire time, fingers steepled together as he watches me.
"We've done some research on Robert Taylor," he finally says.
"I have already spoken to your mother. He's been busy with the Kelly gang in Belfast. Your father’s old syndicate is failing financially, and Taylor is trying to shore up support.
The only logical reason for his stupidity in going up against us is some sort of misguided attempt to develop a fearsome reputation.
It will not be successful. Ye and your mother will both have extra security until we can neutralize him as a threat. "
I don't ask what he means by “neutralize.” Depending on how angry the MacTavishes are, that could be anything from destroying him financially, to launching a nuke into the Graves Mafia compound.
“Th- thank you, Chieftain. For protecting my mother.” I force myself to look at him directly and his green eyes, so much like Michael’s are softer than I expect.
“Of course,” he says, and then ruins it. “It will reflect poorly on the clan to have something happen to ye.”
I hear Mala give a slight scoff as she stares at her husband, then there’s an excruciatingly uncomfortable moment of silence before Michael rises. “I'll take you home.”
I’ve never been so grateful to leave.
***
Tadger - Scottish slang for penis.
Skoosh - Scottish slang for something easily done.