8. Chapter 8
Callahan
Bring the ballet shoe on my desk. Be quick about it.
I glanced at my phone for the tenth time since I’d sent that text, wondering what could be taking Carson so long.
My little ballerina, my fecking wet dreams, sat across from me in a shimmering blue dress that hugged her lean form beautifully. Her pale hair shimmered in the dim lighting of the restaurant. Every movement she made was graceful and fluid, making her dress glitter and shine. Even the long slope of her throat moved gracefully as she sipped her wine.
I was fecking spellbound by her.
Elio filled the space with annoying, meaningless chatter that I tuned out almost as soon as he’d opened his mouth.
Lorcan must’ve seen me staring because he gently stepped on my foot under the table. I growled lowly at him and he removed his foot from mine, his eye never leaving Elio, giving the man the illusion that someone was listening to him.
Fern sat turned toward her father, her chin propped on her fist like every word he was saying was gold. “What did he do then, Papà?”
Elio’s response was lost as my eyes landed on Carson approaching with a silver gift bag in his hand. He handed it to me and leaned down to whisper in my ear.
“Men were spotted scoping out the east location, sir. We’ve stationed extra guards at all entrances and around the grounds.”
He stood and stepped away, melting into the background as only a good bodyguard could do.
The east location was code for the safehouse on the east end of town where we kept all our loose cash. If they knew about that location, it either meant we had a rat, or someone was being tailed. Either option was unacceptable. I made a mental note to reach out to Elliot at Wilde Security to have more cameras installed.
Fern was eyeing the gift bag greedily, but I waited until Elio finally stopped talking to raise the gift bag, pushing it across the table to rest in front of Rory.
“I have something of yours, mo solas.” Fern’s hand fell to the table with a dull thwap, sending the liquid in our glasses rippling. I ignored her.
Rory’s face flamed bright red and her wide eyes flicked from me to Elio. Fear glimmered in them and I knew, I knew, that he’d been the one to leave the bruise on her cheek.
She slowly reached for the bag, pulling out a lone piece of tissue paper and sighing in relief when she saw the contents. “Oh,” she breathed. “My pointe shoe! I thought I’d lost it. Thank you, Mr. Byrne.”
“Cal, please,” I reminded her. Her eyes flicked to the Marinos again and I could feel her nervousness from here.
I looked over to Lorcan and could see the resignation in his eyes. His mouth pinched but he raised an eyebrow and nodded at me in a ‘go on then’ fashion.
I raised my whiskey glass, spinning it between three fingers before speaking in a conversational tone. “You know, Elio, the contract states I must wed a Marino. It doesn’t specify which Marino.”
The ballet shoe hit the table with a quiet thud and Fern inhaled sharply. Elio’s face was pinched and red, his eyes glaring angrily.
Rory was pale and her face shined with a thin sheen of sweat. She reached for her wine glass, taking it between trembling fingers and bringing it to her lips. The red liquid inside shook from the force of her tremors.
“And exactly who did you have in mind, Cal?” Elio asked.
“It’s Callahan, actually,” I said politely. His nostrils flared as he looked furiously at Rory. “Truthfully, I was thinking I’d prefer Rory instead. She does look just ravishing this evening.”
Liquid spilled over the rim of her wine glass and she immediately grabbed her napkin, trying to mop up the white table cloth, muttering apologies quietly as she frantically dabbed at the small red spot, her eyes darting nervously toward Elio. She seemed overly-anxious for such a small spill, and as I glanced between her face and Elio’s red, angry one, I wondered if the engagement party was not the first time he had marked her pretty skin. My stomach tightened uncomfortably at her nervousness over the small spill so I cleared my throat to grab her attention. When she looked up, I casually reached over and pushed Lorcan’s wine glass over with one finger, sending the liquid across the table and watching her as she watched it spread, soaking into the table cloth. Her eyes widened and although she didn’t smile or stop trying to mop up her small mess, she did stop shaking. But she still pressed her napkin to the small spill she had caused.
“Aurora is not a Marino,” Elio said angrily. “She is a Rossi.”
“But she’s been with you since she was barely one, right? She’s been your daughter since you married her mother. You said that this dinner was to properly meet our families. The Italian thing to do would’ve been to adopt her before her mother died. Quite sad, that. I’m sorry for your loss, mo solas.” My response had started snarky and sarcastic, but it ended in sincerity.
She swallowed and finally gave up on trying to save the stained tablecloth. “Thank you,” she muttered quietly, keeping her eyes downcast. I watched her for a moment, waiting for her eyes to meet mine. When she didn’t look up, I reached my long leg out and nudged her toes with my own. The moment her eyes met mine, I spoke again.
“Yes, I think she would be a Marino by your customs. She’ll do just fine,” I concluded, as if I held all the power here.
And if Elio wanted to use my influence to reassert his own, then I did.
“Of course, I’ll not take an unwilling bride,” I said to Rory. “Are you willing to fulfill the contract to complete the peace treaty?” Her eyes flicked to the Marinos again and I gently stepped on the tips of her toes. Her eyes shot back to mine.
“Um-uh-” she stuttered. “I need to use the restroom. Excuse me!” She threw her napkin on top of the food still filling her plate, barely touched.
I watched her rush into the ladies’ room. “I think I fancy a trip to the restroom myself,” Lorcan said casually. He stood, folded his napkin beside his plate and bowed his head to Elio. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll be right back.” I watched him until he turned down the hallway to the restrooms.
“Mr. Byrne,” Elio said in what I imagined was his most professional tone. “There is a reason we have kept Aurora out of the public eye. Losing both your parents so young can be taxing on the mind. She…She’s not quite right, you see.”
“Oh, believe me, Elio, I know all about losing parents at a young age. If you’ll recall, I never knew my father, and my mother was murdered when I was just weeks old. I think I’d be able to help her process her grief. Lord knows you and Fern haven’t bothered to help her.” His throat bobbed with a swallow. “No,” I drawled. “You’ve just kept her out of the public eye, treated her like an embarrassment.” I tracked my uncle returning from the restrooms with a shaken Rory in tow.
I leaned in and spoke low. “If she doesn’t agree, I’ll follow through with the marriage to Fern, but know this - I will not be pleased with it.”
I leaned back in my seat and Fern sputtered in outrage just as Lorcan and Rory returned. She straightened her spine and raised her chin regally. Oh yes, she’s going to make a wonderful wife. She’d need all that strength she was displaying as the wife of a Boss.
She swallowed another mouthful of wine as she met my eyes before she lost a little of her courage and looked back to Lorcan. He nodded, just a tiny movement of his chin that most wouldn’t have noticed. That seemed to reassure her and she gathered her courage around herself like a cloak.
“I’ll accept the proposal and will happily fulfill the contract. I’ll respect our marriage just as I would if it were borne of love and not responsibility.” She dipped her head. “You do me an honor, Mr. Byrne,” she said nobly.
Oh, I’ll honor you just right, mo solas.