Annoyed by his observations—and more by the sneaking suspicion that he had a point—she stayed silent as he led her down to what she suspected was a heavily armored SUV. But apparently Brody was feeling chatty for once.
“So tell me about this author you’re so keen on meeting.”
Seated beside him in the car, she peeked up at him through her lashes. “Why?”
Brody lifted a shoulder as the vehicle rolled forward. “You’re my cousin’s girl. And you can stop glaring at me when I say that. Whether you marry him or not, you’re carrying his child. Which means you’re tied to us through blood, as much as you may dislike it.”
“That doesn’t mean we have to be friends.”
“Maybe not, but it would certainly make things more pleasant, don’t you think?”
She didn’t want to make nice with the mafia. But, as he’d pointed out, she was carrying Killian’s child. Did she really want to spend the rest of her life fighting with him and his whole family over every little thing?
Maybe.
But not only did that sound exhausting, it wouldn’t be fair to her child. “She writes mafia romance.” She could have stopped there, but as he’d pointed out, she was a bit of a brat. “Really kinky mafia romance. I swear every time you turn around in one of her books someone’s getting tied up and spanked. Sometimes both.”
“She got that part right, at least.”
Okay, well, she hadn’t expected that response. Though she probably should have, given what she knew of his cousin. Nope, cousins, plural. Reagan was kinky, too.
Jesus, it really must be genetic.
Nope, nope, nope, not going down that road.
Suddenly desperate to change the topic, she switched gears. “It’s much more exciting in the books than in real life. A lot more gunfire, for starters.”
Because she’d been watching him while they talked, she saw the moment his expression closed off and she could have kicked herself. “We’ve had more than our fair share of violence.”
“I’m sorry, Brody.” And she was, more than she could say. “I read about what happened to your parents. I shouldn’t have… I’m sorry.”
“It is what it is.”
Fuck, she really was the worst kind of asshole. Wanting to make him smile again, she ran through what she knew of Goldie’s books for another topic. “Oh! What about arranged marriages?”
One eyebrow raising in a look that mimicked his cousin so closely it was rather disconcerting, he glanced down at her. “What about them?”
“Well, that’s kind of this author’s thing. Arranged mafia marriages. Someone is forever being forced to marry someone as part of a business deal or because the hero is obsessed with the heroine so he blackmails her family or he takes her to pay a debt or something. It’s actually kind of impressive how many different ways she’s come up with to force someone into a marriage.”
Like getting knocked up by a mob boss after a one-night stand.
Ugh.
To her relief, Brody’s lips twitched. “Our family never really got into the arranged marriage thing. Well, except for the one obvious exception.”
“What obvious exception is that?”
“Killian.”
Annoyed all over again, she glared up at him. “For the last time, we are not getting married.”
“Not you. Portia Williams.”
For a moment, she could swear her heart stopped. “Richard Williams’s daughter?”
“Yes.” The corners of his mouth dipped down into a frown. “You didn’t know?”
“Did I know the father of my child is engaged to another woman? No I didn’t fucking know that!”
