The Syndicate is out in full. Glancing around the room, I spot Cesare and Vittoria near the center. The East Street Kings are clustered near the drinks table, looking like they'd rather be anywhere else, which is apparently standard for them at these kinds of events. Prior's eyes constantly move around the room. So do mine, which is probably why I notice.
The Morozov representatives are here, too. Not Olezka himself, but Daniil and his two closest men. Olezka's still in Russia handling business, leaving Daniil in charge of the American operation until he returns. Rurik is conspicuously absent, which is the correct call and slightly satisfying. It means Daire can't make the evening all about herself, but I have no doubt she'll try.
Caden hasn’t left my side at all, which I love, but also know that it’s pissing our Da off, judging by the death glares he’s sending our way. A glass is lowered in front of my face, and I turn to see Daithí joining us as he hands me the glass.
“One won’t kill you,” he says with a low laugh. “Although we all know it’ll take a hell of a lot more than one glass of champagne to have any impact on you, Quinny.”
I inhale sharply. I haven’t heard that nickname in a very long time. “Hey,” I grouse. “What’s with the name?”
Both he and Caden chuckle. “You’ll always be our Quinny,” he tells me. “I’m proud of you, you know?”
I turn to look at Daithí. I don’t think I’ve ever heard him say that to me before. “What?”
“I’m proud of you. You’ve been thrown in the deep end with this, yet again, and you’re thriving. You’ll always thrive, Quinn. It’s who you are. We’re Delaney’s. When the going gets tough, we thrive.”
I shake my head. “I’ve never felt like a Delaney. I’ve always felt as though I never belonged.”
“Bullshit,” Caden hisses. “You are more of a Delaney than any of us. Don’t you remember what granny used to say?”
“That woman used to say a lot,” Daithí comments. “But he’s right. Granny always told us that being a Delaney is more than the name, it’s the spirit. A true Delaney is a fighter, someone who’ll fight every day and do whatever it takes to survive.”
“That’s you, Quinn,” Caden says. “You’ve survived every fucking day having Mam and Daire’s shit heaped on you, and you fucking thrived. You’re smart, funny, and beautiful. Everything they wished they’d be. That’s why they act the way they do, they’re jealous of you.”
I don’t think that’s true. Mam and Daire have always been this way. For as long as I can remember they’ve always been bitches toward me. They’ve always found ways to try to put me down, make me feel small, make me feel unwanted and unloved.
“What is it about weddings that makes people sentimental?” I muse, glancing between my brothers.
Caden rolls his eyes as Daithi smirks at me. “You always find it hard when someone compliments you.”
Yeah, of course I do. I rarely get compliments and my brothers are being weird. They’re worried something is going to happen with either Mam or Daire, I know they are. That’s why they’re staying so close to me.
I feel Lorenzo before I see him, which is annoying. I hate that my body reacts to being in close proximity to him. My stomach clenches, my pulse races, I don’t know why it does that, and I despise my body for doing so. I don’t scan the room for him; I know that he’s behind me, and I can feel him getting closer with each passing second. He appears at my right shoulder, and I turn to find him closer than I expected. How did he manage to get this close without making a sound?
"Quinn," he says, his voice is low and smooth.
"Lorenzo," I greet as I look up at him. He's in a dark suit, which is all he ever seems to wear. I notice that he’s watching everyone, his expression careful and controlled. He’s got his work expression on. "Try not to scare them off."
"They should be scared," he says, the corners of his mouth tilting, giving me an almost smile.
My brothers step away, giving us space, but I know that they’re watching us like hawks. Lorenzo slides in closer to me and his hand comes to rest at the small of my back.
I instantly freeze, unsure as to what to do now.
"You're doing fine," he says, low enough that only I can hear him
I resist the urge to roll my eyes. "I know," I say, unable to hide the sass.
He glances at me sideways. "You’re stressing. Relax."
"Relax?" I whisper. “Do you know how to do that?” I ask, running my gaze along his body.
"I’ve been known to," he says flatly, which makes me almost smile.
We stand here for a moment, his hand stays at my back, and I'm too damn aware of it.
"Prior's been watching you since you came in," Lorenzo says low, his mouth close to my ear.
I glance toward the East Street Kings without making it obvious. Prior King has the look of a man who hasn't trusted anyone in a very long time and sees no reason to start now. "Is that a problem?"
