Chapter 22 #2
I laugh politely and thank him, but when he extends his hand toward Ronan, the warmth in the air evaporates.
Ronan keeps his hands firmly in his pockets, making no attempt to accept the handshake. His eyes have hardened as he studies Gregory with thinly veiled suspicion.
“LaMalfa,” he repeats. “You’re a hedge fund manager, right? Send my regards to the Ferreras.”
Gregory’s smile falters, though he offers no rebuttal. Chantal loudly clears her throat, her arm loosening from mine.
“Well! You two should take a look around and enjoy yourselves. We’ll catch up later, okay Sim?”
I watch them disappear into the crowd, then turn to Ronan with a sigh that comes from the depths of my soul.
“Do you have to be so unbearable and awful to everyone we meet?”
I don’t wait for his answer, striding off into the gallery without him. But, of course, he follows, falling into step beside me like a shadow I can’t shake. His long legs help.
“We’re in public,” he mutters discreetly for only my ears. “We have to behave, princess. Besides, why should I be nice to a scumbag like LaMalfa? He’s a piece of shit, and you shouldn’t want your friend dating him.”
I slow my pace, curiosity getting the better of me despite my irritation. “What, exactly, makes him such a piece of shit?”
“LaMalfa’s in deep with La Cosa Nostra. That’s all you need to know.”
“You’re an Irish mobster saying this,” I scoff. “Where’s your room to judge?”
To my surprise, the corner of his mouth twitches, vaguely resembling a grin. “I’m a regular Prince Charming compared to a monster like LaMalfa. Take my word for it.”
I roll my eyes and redirect my attention to the art pieces on display. We retreat into tense silence for the rest of the event. We wander through the gallery with our security detail trailing behind us.
Tonight it’s Killian, Eddie, and Fionn forming a protective perimeter that feels a little over-the-top considering the high-class crowd.
The art is beautiful, so many thought-provoking pieces I wish I could appreciate them more. But it’s hard to focus on anything with Ronan’s brooding presence at my side.
Eventually, I manage to steal a moment alone with Chantal near the back of the gallery, away from prying eyes and ears.
Ronan’s distracted enough himself, Killian having pulled him aside for a word.
“Are you two planning your honeymoon yet?” Chantal asks. “Greg is taking me to the Maldives for a couple’s retreat. You two should join us!”
“Definitely not happening anytime soon. Listen,” I say quietly, leaning in close. “I might need another one of those business cards from you.”
Chantal blinks at me, confused for a second. Then her eyes go wide. “Oh. Ohhhh! I’m picking up what you’re putting down, girl. I’ll see what I can do. Maybe Greg might even be able to help.”
“You are a lifesaver.”
“What are besties for?”
I smile at her then wind up distracted by a glance in Ronan’s direction. His side bar conversation with Killian looks… serious.
Very, very serious.
If I didn’t know any better, I’d guess some bad news has been delivered.
My brows push together as curiosity gets the best of me. I excuse myself from Chantal and wander back over.
Ronan senses me before I announce myself, looking up with tension visibly hardening his jaw.
“We’ve got to leave,” he says without preamble. “Something’s come up.”
“What? But we’ve only been here for barely an hour. The artist from the main installation hasn’t even—”
“There’s no time,” he interrupts simply. “C’mon.”
Eddie and Fionn materialize at my sides, and suddenly I’m being herded toward the exit, through the crowd, and out the door. They’re leading me toward the waiting towncar before I can even process what’s happening.
“Wait,” I say, stopping on the sidewalk. Ronan and Killian have started toward a black SUV parked behind the towncar. “Aren’t you coming?”
He pauses at the SUV door, the look on his face inscrutable. “Eddie and Fionn will get you home. Don’t worry about the rest.”
Then he’s climbing into the SUV. Killian heads around to the driver’s side. They merge into traffic and disappear among the dozens of other cars.
As I settle into the backseat of the towncar, I’m certain I’ve read the situation correctly. Something has gone wrong.
I just wonder what it could be…
The ride home feels long and monotonous, the towncar gliding through the late-night Manhattan streets.
Outside the tinted windows, the city pulses with life, an excitement in the air you can find at any hour in the Big Apple.
Restaurants spill warm light onto the sidewalks, couples stroll hand in hand, and clusters of friends laugh their way from one bar to the next.
Even in winter, the city never truly sleeps.
As I stare out at the sights and sounds, a sense of dread creeps up on me. I can’t exactly explain why.
Just that I feel… off.
I pull out my phone and text my parents, suddenly desperate to hear from them.
Dad’s cryptic messages from the other day still gnaw at the back of my mind. Ronan’s become convinced my family has betrayed his. Could he be going after Dad and the others? Would he be so depraved as to hurt my family like that?
We hate each other… or at least that’s what I keep telling myself.
But some part of me still struggles accepting the fact that even he could ever be that cruel and heartless…
I watch the screen, waiting for a response that doesn’t come.
“Everything alright with your darling parents?”
I look up to find Eddie watching me in the rearview mirror, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips.
A frown crosses mine; I can’t help being disturbed by his tone. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mock or taunt me about my family.”
He laughs as if the request is a joke. “Why the hell not? When you’re behind what’s been going on?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“That’s what Ronan thinks, isn’t it?” he asks amusedly, green eyes glittering in the reflection. “That you and the Langstons have set up the Callahans. You’re the reason the Albanians are about to destroy us. Pretty fucking ironic if you ask me.”
Anger heats me up despite the winter cold, burning away the unease. “Shut up,” I snap as the car brakes for a red light. “I’m warning you, Eddie. Shut your mouth or—”
“Or else what, princess?” He twists in the driver’s seat for a direct look at me, his smirk widening crudely.
“What are you gonna do? Tell Ronan on me? Fat chance. He won’t give a damn either way.
He’s so torn up over my dad’s murder he’s not seeing straight.
He’s convinced it’s you and the Langstons who’ve done him and our family in. ”
I refuse to be mocked like this. Disrespected like this.
I don’t give a fuck if he’s a Callahan himself.
“Unlock the door,” I demand when I try to rear passenger and it doesn’t budge. “Let me out. I’d rather ride the subway home than spend another second in this car with you.”
“Quiet your pie hole and behave like you’re supposed to, or I might have to make you.”
“Eddie,” Fionn interjects finally. He sounds exasperated, like he’s miffed he has to involve himself at all. “Let up, why don’t you? Ronan’s made it clear we’re to respect his wife. Not taunt her.”
“Blow me, Fionn. That’s what you think. I don’t give a fuck about that anymore.”
“Listen, you little asshat. Leave the woman alone or Ronan’ll hear about it. Understand?” Fionn snaps. “Maybe Killian’s right about you. You’ve been smelling yourself a little too much lately, especially for some twenty-year-old punk who hasn’t earned—”
“That’s enough out of you.”
Eddie pulls out a gun from the inside of his jacket and squeezes the trigger, shooting Fionn point blank in the face.
It happens so fast and suddenly, I’m frozen in shock for seconds to follow. I can’t even bring myself to scream as the gunshot rings through the enclosed space of the towncar and blood splatters across the interior.
My ears ache as I gape at the disturbing sight and a wave of dizziness passes over me. Almost enough to make me pass out on the spot.
Eddie glances over at me in the backseat and releases a dark laugh at the frozen panic he finds.
As if on cue, the streetlight we’ve been waiting on turns green.
“Buckle up, princess,” he says crudely. “You’ve got a long night ahead.”