I shot to my feet, suddenly feeling queasy that I’d tried to go toe-to-toe with him. “I’m going to use the bathroom.”
Liam watched me as I picked my way carefully across the back patio. His gaze made me more unbalanced than the kitten heels that tried to stick between the pavers.
“Dinner will be ready in five minutes,” Signora Morelli called out. It was her attempt to rein in the surly pack of mobsters. “Let’s go into the dining room.”
I whispered past my family without being stopped, nearly tripped on the porch steps, and staggered into the don’s house. Silence pulsed around me the moment the door closed. It would only be a moment’s reprieve. There was the whole evening to deal with this mess. Clearly, our organizations didn’t like one another. It would almost be comical, if it weren’t for the fact that we also weren’t getting along.
The bathroom was a temporary solace.
I took my time washing my hands and smoothing back the strands of hair that wanted to escape the tight chignon at the back of my neck. My minimal makeup didn’t need freshening. When there was no other reason to linger, I opened the door.
And nearly ran into one of the McDonagh men.
“Sorry!” I gave him a smile.
Blond, oily hair fell to his shoulders. Bright blue eyes laughed from a mean face. “Well, well, well, what do we have here?”
“Who is it?” A second man, who I hadn’t seen, came around him. “Ah, the pretty little posy.”
“Think she’ll get tired of sucking Liam’s crispy cock?” the first snorted.
“I heard it’s shriveled like the rest of him.” The second leaned against the wall.
They were blocking my path.
Dammit. This was why girls traveled in packs to the bathroom.
“What’s the matter, posy? Cat got your tongue?” the one on the wall taunted.
“She’s so fecking pretty.” The oily-haired one lunged for me.
I scrambled back, but not before his sweaty paw raked the front of my dress. Breathing hard, I moved backward until I knocked into something behind.
The man didn’t advance. Not immediately. He held something from his fingers, letting the hall light flicker on the metal.
“Looky here, Johny, a memento.”
My necklace. The one Francesca gave me on my eighteenth birthday. It dangled from his stubby, dirty fingers.
Whatever Johny was going to say was cut short by a bark. Both men went rigid.
Liam prowled behind them. His movements were smooth. Calculated.Silent.He looked between his men, and then that stormy gaze shifted to me.
I refused to cower. Pulling myself together, I brushed my skirt smooth.
“Go sit down, lads,” Liam barked. “Behave.”
The men smirked, sauntering away. The one pulled his long hair to the side, clasped the necklace around his throat, and tossed me a wink before disappearing around the bend.
That left me alone—truly alone—with the beast.
If I ever had delusions that this man would fall in love with me, they vanished. Everything this man did was cold and calculated.
Liam moved forward again, trapping me against the ornamental bookshelf. He was too close. Dangerously close. The scent of pine caught me off guard. I tried not to breathe too hard. But when his left hand raised, I tensed.
His lips moved. A low, song-like cadence rumbled around us as he spoke a language I’d never heard before. The notes were soothing as his fingers plucked at my shoulder where the dress was still askew.
I tried to ignore how the brush of his touch seemed to burn where it whispered over my bare skin. But it was useless. My belly warmed. My nipples tightened. The notes of his alpine aftershave and the sweet words of that language were stronger than the vodka cocktail.
