Page 32 of King of Temptation

Looking annoyingly unperturbed, Salvatore shrugged and claimed the seat Goldie had just vacated. “Fair enough. I wouldn’t want to share, either, if I had such a sweet little thing at my disposal.”

Beside him, Goldie stiffened, but before she could give voice to whatever protest she was clearly ready to make, Brody laid a hand on the back of her neck and squeezed. Luckily for both of them, she heeded his warning, choosing to down the rest of his drink rather than say something that would potentially make an already tense situation even more so.

A pretty blonde waitress bounced up to the table, so young and bright it nearly hurt to look at her. “Good evening! Can I get everyone something to drink?” Her gaze darted to the empty glass in front of Goldie. “Another King’s Pour, perhaps?”

“That would be lovely, thank you. And a water for the lady.”

In a move of brazen defiance that would, under other circumstances, have landed her right over Daddy’s knee, Goldie smiled up at the waitress. “Actually, I’ll have the King’s Pour, as well. It was delicious.”

Before Bonnie, as the waitress’s name tag declared, could respond, Brody gave his little menace another warning squeeze. “And one is more than enough, babygirl. She’ll have a water.”

Goldie’s smile didn’t falter, though when she turned her head, fury blazed in her golden eyes. “I don’t want water.”

Leaning in, he dropped his voice low enough for only her to hear. “You should know, I’m very good friends with the owner of this fine establishment. So if you keep arguing with me, I will take you back to his office, bare your ass and take my belt to your backside until you are ready to be a good girl and do as you’re fucking told. Nod once if you understand me, menace.”

Because he was so close, he could hear her swallow, hard, before she gave a single nod.

“Good girl.” Lifting his head again, he flashed a smile for the waitress. “A King’s Pour for me, a water for the lady, and for my friend…”

He trailed off to give Salvatore, who was watching them with far more interest than Brody was comfortable with, an opening to order. “Tell me about this drink my friends are so taken by.”

Visibly relieved to have something that wasn’t Goldie and Brody to focus on, Bonnie turned her smile on Salvatore. “It’s a twist on an old-fashioned. Brown sugar instead of regular sugar, a candied orange slice, and no cherry.”

“Sounds delicious. I’ll have one of those as well. Thank you, Bonnie.”

A hint of pink colored the girl’s cheeks as she jotted down their order and scurried off. Brody made a mental note to tell the owner to keep an eye on her and not let her get too chummy with any of their patrons for the foreseeable future.

“So, O’Rourke.” Salvatore’s drawling, amused voice drew Brody’s attention back to his companion for the evening. “We were surprised to get your call.”

“You know Killian,” Brody answered with a deliberately nonchalant shrug. “He doesn’t like to burn bridges, even if someone else lights the match.”

It was a not-so-thinly veiled reference to the fact that the Italians had started this whole mess by trying to murder Killian and Reagan and Aria in broad daylight, on more than one occasion. And judging by the smug smile on Salvatore’s face, he knew exactly what Brody was getting at.

“Yes, well, we may have lit the match, but your cousin poured lighter fluid on the flame. Lorenzo is… not a fan of the O’Rourkes at the moment.”

“Understandably so. But the way Killian sees it, we have a mutual enemy in Richard Williams.”

Bonnie chose that moment to return with their drinks, and Brody put in a request for an order of the Pub Chips, his favorite appetizer, before sending her on her way again. To his left, Goldie pouted as she reached for her water, but he deliberately ignored her.

Claiming her in front of Salvatore would, in theory, give her a modicum of protection. Fussing over her, giving her too much of his attention, would make it clear he was emotionally invested.

And that would make her far too tantalizing for their enemies to ignore.

So he ignored her pouting and focused on the man across from him as Salvatore sipped his drink. “This is delicious. Thank you for the suggestion. Now, about our supposed mutual enemy.” Setting the glass aside, Salvatore leaned forward, his eyes shrewd and calculating. “What makes you think we won’t side with him?”

“He’s not one of us. Some rich asshole from California can’t possibly appreciate our history, the blood and sweat and tears our families have poured into this city.”

“And yet, Killian was prepared to give him control of the docks.”

Heart pounding, Brody lifted his own drink and smirked. “Is that what he told you?”

“A little birdie told us.”

“I don’t suppose that little birdie spoke with a Russian accent.”

Salvatore shrugged as if the answer wasn’t the literal difference between life and death. “Maybe. Maybe not. It doesn’t matter.”

Before he could respond, Goldie let out a snort that was so perfectly dismissive, Brody nearly laughed. “Right, because the Russians are notoriously trustworthy. It’s not like they’d benefit at all from sowing discord among their enemies.”