Moving around the table, he gives her shoulder a squeeze and nods a greeting at Sloane. Then his gaze lands on me.
I freeze. A deer in a lust-inducing spotlight. It’s one thing to see him in his element with the other mafia men. But seeing him in this kind of setting, with a background of normal men just highlights his commanding, self-assured and dangerous aura.
Two men round the table and stand beside him. Tall, bearded, dark hair, dark eyes. They look like brothers, only one of them has longer hair and a thick scar from the inside of his eye to his jaw. These are also men you wouldn’t want to run into in a dark alley.
Killian’s eyes stay locked on mine as he speaks. “Pat, Shay, this is my sister Lennon, and her friends Sloane and Dr. Sam.”
“Nice to meet you, ladies,” they each greet us with a distinct Chicago accent as they shake our hands.
I break eye contact with Killian as Pat, the one with the scar, addresses me. “Dr. Sam, you’re the one taking care of Mac?”
I give him a polite smile and nod.
His dark gaze sweeps over me as he grins. “You must have the patience of a saint.”
“She’s no saint,” Killian says, low enough that only I catch it. And only because my attention is fully focused on him against my will. I can’t help it. His presence is stronger than a gravitational pull.
My eyes narrow, but he only winks at me.
Cocky asshole.
“Ah.” Shay snaps his fingers, his grin widening. “Sully said you’re training the strippers, too. A woman of many talents.”
Mine and Killian’s head both whip toward him. Killian scowls.
I can feel Lennon and Sloane staring at the side of my face. I’ve never been embarrassed to dance, but I do feel ambushed at the moment. “Yes, well, I’m used to being busy, so needed something else to do,” I mumble. It’s lame, but it’s all I could come up with under this glaring spotlight of attention.
Killian is still staring at Shay like he’s going to stick his fist through his teeth. He settles for smacking him in the backof the head. “Maybe she didn’t want that being everybody’s business, ya dope.”
I raise an eyebrow as Shay mumbles an apology. Is Killian defending my honor? Because if he is, I’m more embarrassed by my lack of morals when it comes to not following the oath I took as a doctor, than showing my body. “It’s fine.”
“What are you doing here, anyway?” Lennon stares at her brother, thankfully changing the subject. “Did Sandro send you? You better not be checking up on me.”
He shifts on his feet and his gaze flicks to me for a second. “Just showin’ the boys around town. They arrived from Chicago a few days ago.” He rests a hand on Shay’s shoulder, squeezes harder than necessary if the man’s wince is any indication, and nods his chin toward the bar. “Also, I need to talk that bartender into comin' to work at The Lucky Sinner. Her name’s Scarlett. I’ve had an eye on her for a few weeks. She’s great at handling both mixin’ and surly clients.”
Shay whistles as his gaze rakes over the curvy bartender with fire-red hair and a knock-out smile. “Sweet Scarlett. Hopefully money talks.”
A tiny stab of something that feels a lot like jealously pricks my chest as Killian stares at the pretty, busty bartender. But that can’t be. It must be disgust at how he’s leering at her. Though, upon second glance, it’s more of a thoughtful look than leer.
I force myself to look away and take a big swig of my margarita. It’s not my business either way.
The waitress returns and is eyeing all three men, her gaze snagging on Killian with interest. “Can I get you anything?” she purrs with a suggestive smile.
“Sure, darlin’. You can get whatever these ladies want and put it on my tab.” With one last glance at me, he makes his way to the bar. I watch him lean forward and say something to Scarlett that makes her dimples pop as she laughs. I roll my eyes and move my attention back to Lennon and Sloane, who are grinning at me.
“What?” I ask.
“You’re a pole dancer? How? When? Tell us everything,” Lennon squeals. She gets more animated and excited about everything when she drinks, but I can’t help but catch her enthusiasm. I tell them about my first job at The Showroom, where I met Sandro’s father, and how I put myself through med school there. I leave out any mention of Michael.
“Can you teach us some moves?” Sloane asks, holding up her arms and dancing in her chair.
Lennon gasps. “Great idea! I’ve always wanted to learn. I bet I can get Sandro to install a pole in the entertainment room.” Her glassy green eyes sparkle with mischief.
Sloane and I share a glance and then bust out laughing. “Yeah, I bet you can,” I say. “That man would do anything for you, but a private pole, yeah… that’s a no brainer.”
We order a few more appetizers and pick up the conversation. It’s getting more difficult as the buzz in the bar gets louder and the band starts their first set. My foot is tapping to the beat, and I’m trying my hardest to stay engaged, but I find myself glancing over at Killian more than is good for my mental health.
He’s resting one elbow on the bar, his profile to me as he chats with Pat. Shay is behind him, scanning the crowd.
