I ask Alex, but all I get is a grunt. We walk out of the estate, and I stop, looking back. The sun has disappeared from the sky, and the air is a little chill for the jeans and sweatshirt I have on.
The city is alive, people pass by, cars drive past, everything looks as normal as New York should be. I can see three sleek black cars lined up down the steps from where I stand.
Alex realizes I stop moving and turns to me. He doesn't have to speak for me to know I'm pissing him off. My feet begin to move, and I catch up with him before we stop beside the first car.
The passenger window rolls down, and Declan takes out the cigar in his mouth. "Get in." That's all he says, and his window is back up.
I open the back door, wondering where we're headed, only to see Finn is in the back. Our eyes meet, and he looks shocked to see me. I blink, biting my bottom lip as anxiety sets in. Where are we going?
"Do you need to be taught to get in a car?" Declan says, talking to me like I'm just a speck of dust.
I get into the car, and Alex closes the door beside me. The ride is quiet, too quiet, and I keep glancing at Finn, but he just acts like I don't exist. His jaw and fist are clenched like he's holding back his anger.
What's his problem? Not like I care. Declan, on the other hand, is on his phone; they look like ordinary businessmen in their suits.
I look out the window, watching as the city passes by, its lights blurring like a dream I can't hold on to. I wonder what Elena is up to. God, this is torture.
The driver slowly presses on the brake, and the car comes to a halt. I look out the window, and my eyes land on the large, bright sign hanging above the entrance. 'Haven Bar.'
Why are we at a bar?
Before I can ask Finn, he's out of the car, and Declan too. I step out of the car after them, my boots colliding with the solid pavement. Declan and Finn go in first, but anyone cansee there's a bit of friction between them. They look like they're arguing.
I don't know what to do, so I follow. I step into the bar and feel the weight of the room settle on me. The bar is old, dark wood from floor to ceiling, carved like it belongs in some forgotten castle. Every inch of it whispers money, history, and danger dressed up as charm. It smells faintly of cigar smoke, leather, and aged whiskey—comforting, if you grew up around men who made their livings with blood-stained hands and well-ironed suits.
I scan the bar, and it has only about fifty people here, including the staff and bodyguards. I feel like the odd one out with how underdressed I am, and that earns me a lot of glares.
Behind the bar, rows of glass bottles catch the warm amber light. Nothing flashy. Just expensive. The broad-shouldered man with sleeves rolled to his elbows cleans a glass like he's been doing it since forever.
Declan and Finn disappear into the booth to my right, near the curtained archway where many of the men sit. All sharp suits and sharper eyes, laughter low and private. The chandelier above glows warm, casting halos over men who deserve anything but.
They're all members of the Irish. One of them, a redhead with knuckles like stone, another black-haired with blue eyes glaring at me in an uncomfortable way as he drinks from his glass. I look away, wondering why Declan brought me here.
I take a seat at the bar and keep my eyes front. I wish the jazz music coming from the speaker were a little lower so I could eavesdrop on their conversation. I try to, but all I can hear is laughter and the sound of every other person at the bar. I sigh and raise my head to see the bartender looking at me like I'm someone who shouldn't be there.
I raise my brow and look away from him, but after a few minutes, he asks. "Do you want to order a drink?"
"No," I answer, even though I would very much like to, but I need to be alert. This isn't a setting I'm familiar with. All it takes is one slip up, and I would become meat to chew if the men here knew who I am. I wrap my hands around myself as cold seeps into my bones. If I knew we were going to be out, I would have worn something thicker.
I glance to my right and meet Finn's gaze, glued on me. He says nothing but stares, and I'm starting to wonder if staring is one of the many talents of the Irish men.
I look away from him, my mind traveling to the argument we had this morning. I can't believe he would think of me so lowly. Sleeping with Declan? That's the most disgusting thing ever.
CHAPTER 8
Gianna
Maybe I waswrong about Finn. I know family will always come first for us both, but maybe he does care about me beyond a superficial level, and maybe I do too. The feelings I had that night at the chapel were too strong. Perhaps he was right. Maybe I am a coward.
You have to focus, Gianna. You can't get distracted.
I wait for what feels like too long, and I start to shift from one foot to another.I need to use the restroom.Finn will have to forgive me for this one. I walk down a hallway and finally locate the bathroom.
I'm halfway to the bathroom when a waitress bumps into me, sharp and sudden, like she isn't even trying to avoid the collision. I barely catch my balance when she leans in close. Her voice is a quick whisper that rushes into my ear.
"Stall three. Check under the stand. There's a package for you." Then she's gone, just like that.
I don't even get a close look at her face. No name, no look back, just the scent of citrus cleaner and something faintly floral trailing behind her as she disappears down the hall. Who wasshe? She's definitely talking to me because there's no other person here.
