26. Cora
Cora
“Is that Brioni?” Finn asks as we eat dinner. There’s no one outside, but he cranes his head to see out the window over Liam’s shoulder. His eldest brother whips around so fast he nearly spills his Guinness.
Finn cackles. Somehow he and I ended up next to each other, facing Liam and Brady across the table of steaming food. I savor the view of Brady with the glorious late summer evening behind him, but I could do without Finn’s snide comments about people who aren’t truly from Chicago.
I find myself missing Connor. He and I could tease Liam with much subtler tricks than Finn’s obvious pranks.
Despite my stubborn reservations, I’m actually starting to enjoy the camaraderie of the O’Sullivan brothers.
There’s a unity in this family that I didn’t realize was possible among aggressive mafia men, and I wish I could bring Connor into this fold.
But my brother wouldn’t be welcome at this family dinner.
Tonight he’s eating alone in my sad apartment, as he has for every meal since I moved out.
I tell myself he probably prefers it that way.
He wants nothing to do with any of the O’Sullivans, especially Liam and Finn.
And I doubt he’d appreciate how Brady’s looking at me over his steak, like he’d rather devour me instead.
A shiver runs through me every time my husband catches my gaze.
I wonder if his eyes had that same hungry gleam as he spanked me.
The man recognized my preferences without me saying a word.
And though it’s disquieting he was able to read me so easily—and that he used his ill-gotten knowledge to undo me—I respect his abilities, however grudgingly.
He’s a man of many talents. Another shiver rolls down my spine, and I’m glad I chose to wear an extra layer over my dress.
After Kieran takes our dishes to the kitchen, Brady leaves to grab another round from the bar, and our table lapses into the silence of satisfied full stomachs.
“Holy shit, it’s Brioni,” Finn says, chuckling. This time Liam just glares at him, but Finn goes so far as to add a wave.
Outside, the stunning blonde waves back. Well, I’ll be damned.
“I’m serious,” Finn tells Liam. The eldest brother flicks his gaze to me, which means— Wow. Trust from the firstborn O’Sullivan.
“It actually is Brioni,” I confirm.
Liam’s nostrils flare to say I’d better not be lying, then he turns around. His entire demeanor softens at the sight of her, and I understand why Finn enjoys teasing him about her so much.
“Da, was there anything we needed to discuss?” Orla asks quickly. With her eyes so like Brady’s, she tracks Brioni down the sidewalk as the gorgeous blonde heads for the pub’s front door. Now that’s something.
She’s precious to us, Orla had said about Brioni. I’d interpreted it as a dig at me for being an outsider, but perhaps there’s more to it. As close as Brioni is to the O’Sullivans, they obviously keep her out of their mafia dealings, deeming her too cherished.
And yet, Orla asked her question to Declan in front of me. Brioni’s not part of the life, but I am.
And Orla recognizes it. She may be upset with me for disrespecting the sacraments, but she understands that mafia’s in my blood.
“No changes,” Declan says. “Fergal’s critical but stable. No new trouble from the North Side.”
“Which means there will be soon,” I reason. I don’t know who Fergal is, but I know that the enemy on the North Side won’t stay quiet for long.
All heads swivel to me for speaking out of turn. I feel the ice of Finn’s judgment beside me, but it only makes me sit up straighter.
“Aye,” Declan says slowly. “That it does.”
“We’ll be ready.” Liam stands up. His confidence is admirable, if foolhardy. There is no guarantee of readiness against someone as ruthless as Seven. With cold dread pooling in my stomach, I remember the man he sent to attack me, catching me alone and off guard in the dark.
“Is that all, Da?” Orla asks.
Liam waits for his father to nod, then strides over to the green curtain, which is so thick it must include soundproofing. He flicks it partway open, keeping most of the interior windows covered.
In the pub beyond, Brioni’s chatting with Brady at the bar, while Erin places drinks on the serving tray in front of them.
It’s as if Brioni senses Liam now watching her, because she turns to beam at him with a guileless toss of her dirty-blonde hair.
She makes a small motion with her hand to ask if it’s okay for her to join us in the front room, and he nods.
As she hops off her barstool, she tries to take the serving tray, but Brady takes it himself, gesturing for her to lead the way to our corner.
I sit back in my chair, trying to piece together who Brioni is. She knew not to approach the closed curtain, even though she was clearly aware that Liam was inside. She even asked permission before approaching.
Personally, I’d hate being shut out like that. And even though I’d planned to lead a separate life from Brady, I never liked the idea of him keeping his darker dealings from me. But now, if our lives are actually intertwining…
I deserve to be involved.
Orla’s already recognized it. But what matters most is Brady’s opinion of me. It’ll take more than unconfirmed intel about a warehouse to show him that I’m capable. I feel the viper inside me stretch, ready to prove herself.
Brioni glides into our secluded corner, greeting us all with her usual cheer.
“Won’t you have some dinner, love?” Orla opens the lid off the creamed cabbage, revealing plenty of leftovers. “Liam, fetch the woman a plate.”
“Oh no thank you, that’s alright.” Brioni catches Liam by the arm to stop him.
It’s such a casual touch, almost subconscious on Brioni’s part.
But the way Liam freezes, he could be experiencing a cardiac event.
If he’s a black-and-white movie star, then the film has stopped.
Yet Brioni seems completely unaware of the effect she has on Liam.
On all men, really, given how she didn’t notice any of the customers’ stares as she moved across the bar.
It’s different from the way I pointedly ignore them. Brioni is pure innocence.
“I just stopped by for a drink,” she says. “I’m headed downtown to meet a friend.”
“Does this friend’s name start with an H?” Finn asks, his broken nose twitching with a sneer.
Someone’s knuckles crack. I can’t tell if it’s Liam or Brady, or maybe both, because all four of their fists are clenched. I feel my eyebrows lift halfway to my hairline. If Brioni’s friend “H” is a platonic girlfriend, I’ll eat every quarter that I gave to Kieran.
“Of course, love,” Orla says. “We’re happy whenever you stop by.”
Orla’s astute. She knows how each member of her family feels about Brioni, and the common theme is protective.
Orla must also know how each member of her family feels about me.
A week ago, the common theme there would’ve been distrustful.
And though I don’t care much about changing Finn’s mind, the fact that I’ve swayed the insightful Orla makes me feel more at ease around the O’Sullivans, almost as if I could someday be one of them.
Now there’s a dangerous thought.