Chapter 10 #3
He took a few gulps of his soda, then stood and walked to the center of the bar. Conversation faded, and a hush fell over the group as everyone waited for him to speak.
“Listen up—”
He launched into talking about the day-to-day restaurant business, like he wasn’t the man running a New Jersey mob. Reminders about customer service, the latest sales numbers, and plans for next year’s renovations.
I didn’t care about O'Shea’s. I probably wouldn’t even be alive next month to see any of this happen.
But I couldn’t look away. I couldn’t tune him out.
And clearly, I wasn’t the only one who found Cian’s presence powerful.
Every single eye in the room was on him.
No one spoke or interrupted. The female bartender was taking notes on an iPad, manicured fingers flying over the attached keyboard.
Most of the men sat at tables on the main floor.
Others stood along the walls or perched on stools at the bar.
He spoke like he knew exactly what he was doing. Which, according to Rhys, he definitely did. But even if I hadn’t known Cian had revived this place, I would have believed it after listening to him speak. Patrick had never had this kind of presence.
My dad didn’t like crying.
Mine neither.
How could Patrick have been anything but proud of a man like Cian? Why hadn’t he brought Cian to any of our meetings? Why hadn’t he let Cian take over when O'Shea’s was suffering? So many questions for a dead man.
When Cian was through, he opened the floor to questions—like he was just some normal boss. And once everyone had gotten a chance to speak, he pointed to the long table lined with chafing dishes I’d noticed earlier.
“Everyone eat. Doors open in an hour.”
The chatter started up again as everyone converged on the food.
Cian stood a few feet away, his voice low as he spoke to Jace, who shot me murderous glances every few seconds.
He was objectively attractive, almost pretty, with small, refined features that he’d tried to make up for by bulking up with muscle.
But even his pathetic attempt at a stubbly beard couldn’t hide his high cheekbones and full lips.
Of course, he wasn’t my type. My sexuality was Cian O'Shea. Jace didn’t resemble his brother at all—or Patrick, for that matter. He’s clearly taken after his mother.
Jace turned and stalked away from Cian with an audible huff. Cian stared after him for a moment, then returned to the stool at my side. He wouldn’t look at me now, and I really didn’t like that.
“So you really know what you’re talking about with all this legitimate business stuff, huh?”
He sipped his club soda, eyes forward. “Sometimes.”
A plate dropped in front of me so hard it clattered against the table. The burger bun tumbled off, and baked beans splattered the front of my hoodie. I looked back to find Jace standing behind me, wearing a satisfied grin. He carefully placed another plate in front of Cian.
“Oops. It slipped,” he said.
And just like that I was back in high school. “You’re a child.”
He leaned in closer and gritted out, “Test me, devil, and you’ll see just how adult I am. If you do anything to hurt my brother, I’ll fucking kill you.”
Maybe it was because I was hungry. Or maybe the bathroom incident this morning had pushed me too far, and I still hadn’t recovered.
Whatever the reason, despite my earlier promise to tame my temper, it was like a switch had flipped.
I slowly turned on my stool to face Jace, who stood there looking like a puffed-up murder kitten. “You’ll… kill me?” I asked slowly.
Cian stuck a few fries in his mouth as he watched me out of the corner of his eye. He slowly inched the shock collar remote out of his pocket so I could see it—a warning. But I wasn’t flirting. This was far from flirting.
“Yeah,” Jace said, tilting his chin up defiantly.
“How?” I asked.
He clearly didn’t expect that question. He blinked once, then twice. “Uh, I’ll—”
“Do you want to know what I did to the man who killed my brother?” I spoke slowly and deliberately. Cian had gone very still, eyes boring into the side of my head.
“I had my men beat him half to death. Then I locked him in a cage for a week to starve and torture him. For five years, I isolated him from everyone and everything he loved. I made him do my dirty work, and I forced him to fight in illegal, underground matches. All while threatening to kill his sister and nephew if he didn’t comply. ”
I leaned forward. “Are you willing to do that for your brother?”
Jace was pale. He wasn’t so puffed up anymore.
Stab me in the chest? Totally. Shoot me in the head?
You bet. I believed this feral man-child could absolutely inflict some damage.
But systematically break a man’s spirit?
I didn’t think Jace was capable of that.
Then again, I hadn’t thought I was either.
Life had a way of pushing people past all reasonable boundaries.
I turned to the bar, slapped the bun back on my burger, and took a big bite.
Then I turned to Cian, who hadn’t taken his eyes off me.
“Got any ketchup?”