Lorcán shifts beside me, and I glare at him.
“What? I will.”
He grips my chin and kisses me softly but doesn’t say anything else. How terrible can this woman actually be?
Maeve had to put the table leaf in for the dining table to accompany our guests. The table arrangement is extravagant, and the tension is thick as I sit between Finn and Cillian.
Declan and Lorcán are seated at the ends of the table. It almost feels like it’s purposeful. To show that they aren’t members of the family, while Seamus and Orla sit across from us.
Seamus looks more like Lorcán, I realize, with his light eyes and mostly gray hair, but you can tell he used to be blond. He smiles a lot, and seems the most at ease at the table, while his wife seems the opposite. I don’t think the woman has blinked once.
Cillian and Finn are carbon copies of her, with the dark hair and deep, forest green eyes, which are currently boring into my fucking soul.
Cillian places a reassuring hand on my thigh and even Finn is sitting closer to me than he normally does.
“Didn’t know when we would be seeing you at our table, Elena,” Seamus comments as Maeve brings out dishes.
Orla only stops staring at me to glare at the cook, Declan’s mom.
“Considering, until recently, I had no idea I was supposed to, me either.”
Seamus laughs, and Orla puckers her lips.
How did such a jolly gangster end up with such an ice queen?
“All is well. I must say I was sorry to hear about your father. I knew Matteo for a long time. He was a good and reasonable man.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Unlike your brother. Where do we stand on the situation?” Seamus asks, switching from our conversation to business.
I still feel slightly uncomfortable talking about Anthony. He’s still my brother, regardless of all the horrible things he’s done. I don’t excuse his behavior, but part of me feels guilty. Would this all still be happening if I didn’t run away?
I instantly shake that thought from my head; he wanted his cake and to eat it too. He wanted me gone.
“He’s gone into hiding. Most of his men have sworn allegiance to the Barbieri family,” Finn states calmly.
“I’m glad to see getting the shite kicked out of you actually paid off one of these times.”
Finn smirks, his face is still covered in some bruising from his fight, but he doesn’t look anywhere near as rough as he did before I left.
“How do we know she isn’t some Italian spy reporting back to her brother?” Orla sneers.
Cillian’s hand tightens on my thigh, but I very sweetly respond.
“Considering your son drugged me and locked me in this house with no cell phone or any other way of communication, I don’t see how that would be possible.”
“I think a good, respectable Irish girl would have been better,” is her response.
“Má,” Cillian warns his mother.
“It’s not even as if Fionn wanted an Omega. Matteo is dead. The contract should die with him,” she states, and it’s the first time I hear Finn’s real name. His jaw ticks when he hears it, clearly hating it.
“Orla, that’s enough,” Seamus scolds, waving his wife off, clearly used to her attitude.
“Send her back with her rabid brother and decrease our enemies,” she continues, not listening to her husband. “Saoirse is single,” she adds.
The insinuation of another woman has my hackles rising. We might just be figuring this out, but they’re mine; we’ve decided we’re going to be a pack. Her sons are my fucking scent matches, for Christ’s sake.
