48. Chapter Forty-Eight
Chapter Forty-Eight
Mialina
Maximo sets his napkin beside his plate, his movements unhurried as he watches the Irishmen approach.
Leon is already crossing toward us from the next table, while another of Maximo’s men closes in from the opposite side. They stop several feet from my chair, forming a barrier between me and the Donnellys.
The guards at the other tables rise too. For now, they remain where they are, but their attention is fixed on the three men.
Nobody gives an order. Every man around us seems to know where he needs to stand.
My shoulders drop slightly, the fear that prickled through me when I first saw the Donnellys coming toward us loosening. They aren’t getting anywhere near me without going through Maximo’s security first.
Cormac approaches with Shay and Malachy flanking him, all three appearing perfectly relaxed. The handful of patrons still here might assume they’re merely stopping to exchange a few pleasantries before leaving.
I know better.
Seeing Cormac up close, I realize he’s older than I first thought. There are deep lines around his mouth and eyes, but none of it makes him appear weak. His gaze is too sharp for that, taking in Maximo, the guards, and every route around the table within seconds.
Maximo remains seated, one hand resting loosely beside his plate as he looks up at them.
“Cormac,” he greets with an air of mild boredom. “It must be my lucky day. First Romero, and now you.”
“Ah, yes. We had a meeting with them nearby and thought we’d have some dinner before heading home.”
“At my restaurant?”
The faintest smile touches Cormac’s mouth. “Unfortunately, it has the best steak.”
“That it does.” Maximo leans back, his expression almost pleasant. “And I suppose you stopped by our table because it seemed discourteous to leave without saying hello?”
The words are polite, but his voice isn’t.
Cormac inclines his head. “Indeed.”
His attention shifts toward me, although he continues speaking to Maximo.
“And this must be Miss Mialina Accardi.”
The breath I draw stops halfway into my lungs. My full name sounds wrong when he says it.
Maximo’s fingers flex once against the table before going still. I might have missed the movement if I weren’t watching him so closely.
“You already know who she is,” he replies coldly.
“Only from the photographs Antonio showed us.” Cormac allows his gaze to settle on me now. “Although they hardly did her justice.”
Something unpleasant twists in my stomach. They’ve seen photographs of me.
I shouldn’t be surprised. The top men in circles like ours collect information about anyone who might become useful to them.
But this is different. Father didn’t just tell them about me. He presented me like a prized mare, so they could appraise me. Should I show them my teeth too?
My gaze moves to the two men beside Cormac. Neither speaks.
Malachy acknowledges me with a restrained inclination of his head. Shay makes considerably less effort to disguise his interest, his gaze traveling over my face, my hair, and my outfit.
I lift my chin and meet Shay’s stare directly. I won’t be intimidated by him. He can examine me all he wants, but I refuse to sit here meekly while he does it.
Across the table, Maximo remains perfectly still. Somehow, that only makes him look more dangerous.
“Antonio spoke often of the future he envisioned for his daughters,” Cormac says.
Often? How long was Father in touch with them?
“Antonio Accardi made a great many plans,” Maximo replies. “But he’s dead now, and circumstances have changed.”
Cormac chuckles. “Circumstances often do.”
Maximo’s gaze remains fixed on him. “Sensible men adjust accordingly.”
The faint smile remains on Cormac’s face, but his eyes harden. Beside him, Shay’s attention finally leaves me and moves to Maximo.
“Some arrangements are more enduring than others,” he says, his tone far more challenging than his father’s.
Maximo doesn’t so much as blink. “Only when all parties remain willing to honor them.”
Cormac smiles, but there’s no warmth in it.
“Willingness can be a complicated thing in our world.”
Is mine the complicated part?
Maximo’s voice turns glacial. “Not to me.”
The two men stare at each other. Their meaning moves beneath every word, sharp enough that I can feel it even if I can’t decipher every layer.
Cormac knows Maximo is aware of the agreement.
Maximo now knows the Donnellys haven’t dismissed it.
And I’m sitting at the center of their conversation while they discuss my future as though I wasn’t present.
Every part of me wants to tell them exactly where they can put Antonio’s contract.
Cormac looks toward me again, but his words remain directed at Maximo.
“Antonio was right about her.”
I have the urge to remind him that I’m sitting right here and perfectly capable of being addressed directly. But I hold my tongue. Seems the Irish share Maximo’s antiquated ideas about a woman’s place in the world.
Maximo’s expression doesn’t change. “Careful, Cormac.”
“It was intended as a compliment.”
Shay’s mouth shifts at one corner, although whether he’s amused by his father or Maximo, I can’t tell.
Part of me is furious at being treated like a piece on a board yet again while the two men battle for wife-market supremacy.
The other part, however, is acutely aware of the guards positioned around my chair, marking the boundary so clearly that even Cormac Donnelly hasn’t tried to cross it.
I can’t deny it. Right now, I’m relieved to be under Maximo’s protection.
Cormac studies Maximo for another moment.
“Well, as pleasant as it was to run into you here, we should be on our way before the roads become impassable. Enjoy the rest of your evening.”
Maximo gives a single nod, practically dismissing them.
Malachy turns away first. Shay remains where he is for half a second longer, his gaze returning to mine.
This time, there’s something almost challenging in it.
I hold his stare without blinking until he follows his father and brother.
Only when the doors shut behind them does the tension around our table begin to ease. Leon remains beside me for another moment, waiting until Maximo gives him a subtle nod before returning to his seat.
The other guards sit too, although their attention remains fixed on the exit.
I release a slow breath, only then realizing how tightly I’ve been gripping the edge of my chair.
I look across the table at Maximo. “You were staking your claim.”
He settles back in his chair. “Was I?”
“Don’t pretend you didn’t know what you were doing.”
“I rarely do anything without knowing what I’m doing.”
There’s no point arguing with that.
“You both discussed me as though I wasn’t sitting right here.”
Maximo reaches for his wineglass. “Cormac wasn’t interested in your opinion.”
“Neither were you.”
He takes a sip of the wine, his gaze settling on me.
“I’m already aware of your opinion.”
My irritation flickers, although it doesn’t take hold as strongly as it should.
“That doesn’t mean you get to speak for me.”
“No, but you didn’t even try to stop me.”
I glance toward the exit again, remembering the way Shay looked at me and the quiet calculation behind Cormac’s smile.
Maximo isn’t wrong.
I could have interrupted, but he handled the confrontation with far more restraint than I could have managed. He never raised his voice or openly threatened anyone.
He just made it clear that whatever plans the Donnellys had for me were no longer theirs to pursue.
“I didn’t like being discussed as though I wasn’t sitting there,” I admit. “But in that particular moment, no, I didn’t mind you stepping in.”
Satisfaction flickers across his face.
“Don’t look so pleased with yourself. It doesn’t mean anything.”
I reach for my wineglass and drain it, not that there was much left. I barely taste the fine vintage, my nerves still a little frayed.
“It means you preferred my claim to theirs,” Maximo says, smugness threading his voice.
I chuckle. “I preferred your guards between me and them.”
“They were there because of my claim.”
The bastard has an answer for everything.
I sit back in my chair. “As long as you understand that staking a claim doesn’t make it real.”
His gaze holds mine. He just smiles, not bothering with an answer.
Probably a good thing. I can already imagine what it would have been.