“Mr. Caraldi, how good of you to join us!” the man of the hour says. He’s stepping toward me, a hand outstretched. I stare down at it, fairly sure my distaste is showing. God only knows how many dicks he’s been polishing to get to where he is in his career.
“Senator Robbins,” I say, finally forcing myself to take his hand. My eyes are not on him, though. I’ve shifted a look to McErlane, who’s glowering at me with thermonuclear rage. Another sweeping glance takes in the woman who looks like she’d rather be anywhere but here.
Damn right she should. Straight after I get my ring back.
“McErlane,” I mutter, aiming a nod at him, then looking back at the senator. “I trust everything is to your satisfaction, Senator?”
He nods enthusiastically. “Delighted! Absolutely delighted, Caraldi,” he booms. “And I’m glad you joined us. I’ve been hoping to get you and my good friend Tommy into the same room.”
Good friend? Nobody is friends with Tommy McErlane.
I say nothing, waiting for him to continue. I still have a narrow-eyed stare on the blonde who won’t look me in the eye. What the fuck is she doing with this band of thugs?
Then again, why am I surprised? She had to learn her thieving ways somewhere. Though, for some reason, the thought of them getting their hands on her sets my blood to a slow boil.
“Aren’t you going to introduce us?” I say to Robbins, who beams like a gameshow host.
“Ah. Of course, how rude of me. Allow me to present Miss Emma McErlane, Tommy’s delightful daughter and my fi—”
“Daughter?” I almost choke, cutting him short. He grins broadly.
Jesus. I’d heard McErlane had a daughter hidden somewhere, but I hadn’t expected…this.
“Surprising, of course, that old Tommy would sire such a stunner, eh?” He winks at the burly gangster, who doesn’t look impressed but says nothing. Whatever their deal is, it’s worth enough that McErlane is letting him get away with the comment without losing a body part.
“Quite,” I respond smoothly, then step forward and reach for her hand. “Miss McErlane,” I say, my voice low. Her cheeks are flaming scarlet. “Such a pleasure to make youracquaintance,” I add.
“Likewise, Mr. Caraldi,” she husks out. Our eyes meet, and a thousand words remain unspoken. Instead of shaking her hand or even brushing a kiss over her knuckles, I lean in and graze my lips against each cheek, in turn, continental style.
I pause at the final kiss, just long enough to murmur into her ear.
“Hello, Buttercup…I believe you have something that belongs to me.”
Chapter 3
Emma McErlane
“Oy! You get your sodding hands off my fuckin’ daughter, ya slimy fucker!” I hear my father roar. I don’t know what terrifies me more – his rage or the words Raoul Caraldi whispered to me.
‘Something that belongs to me’swirls in my head as he straightens and smiles smoothly. It doesn’t take me more than a second to connect the dots.
He’s talking about the ring.
And it makes me fucking furious. I snatch my hand away and rub it against the satin of my dress. I’d rub my face too, where my skin is still tingling where his lips glanced over it, but that might be a step too far. He raises an eyebrow. A dark question mark on a face that’s clean-shaven and glowing with health. This impeccably tuxedoed stranger is so different from the rough, tousled lover who took me to heaven and back only weeks ago.
“Emma, get your ass over here before that filthy dago tries to paw your goddamn tits!” my father snaps. I edge toward him, aware of the amusement unfurling in Raoul’s expression. It’s still edged with danger, and I’m happy to put distance between us. That doesn’t make my fury fade.
His goddamnweddingring. That’s what he’s fucking talking about. I suppose he had some explaining to do when he got home after our torrid sex romp. His wife must have been pretty pissed when he pitched up without it. I keep my expression icy, feeling my lip curl.
“If I had known your daughter was such a beauty, maybe I would have been less inclined to keep trying to end your life, McErlane.” Raoul turns to my father, who looks like the top of his head is about to blow off.
“You should be so lucky, Caraldi,” my father snaps. As I get within reach, he snatches my wrist and hauls me behind him. It’s hardly effective. Raoul Caraldi towers head and shoulders over my dad. Although my father is powerfully built, the man dwarfs him in sheer muscle power. Muscle contours I’ve traced with my fingers…my lips…
Jesus, Emma, get your head out of your ass!
“Take your goddamn eyes off her,” Dad snarls. “Robbins,” he turns to the senator, “are you just gonna stand there gawping, or will you do something about this bullshit? Because if you don’t, I fuckin’ will!” I can sense my father’s men bristling about us, and it’s pretty clear what he means by “do something about this.” Though my so-called fiancée is so busy leering at Raoul’s bimbos, he seems barely aware of the shitshow that’s about to unravel.
“Darling,” I say firmly. “Perhaps you’d like to speak to your friend?”
