Page 8 of King of Temptation

He might feel sorry for Rowan if the kid hadn’t been a total fucking ass.

Might.

Still holding his wife’s hand, Killian picked up the steak knife he’d left on his plate with his free hand. Locking eyes with Rowan, Killian ran the pad of his thumb over the keen edge of the blade, and Brody swore he actually heard Rowan swallow.

“You should be glad I am not following in my father and his father’s footsteps,” Killian began conversationally, still playing with the blade of his knife. “Because any one of our ancestors would have carved the heart from your chest for the disrespect you’ve shown my wife. Apologize or get out.”

Rowan, stubborn dumbass that he was, stiffened, his chin jerking up. “I will not apologize for demanding the respect we deserve as O’Rourke men.”

Ah, hell.

From the end of the table, Reagan smiled, the curve of her lips as sharp and deadly as the knife her brother held. “Oh, so it’s only the men in our family who deserve respect, is it?”

Paling slightly, Rowan glanced toward his father, who only raised a brow. Finding no help there, Rowan cleared his throat, though it did nothing to stop his voice from cracking when he spoke again. “That’s not what I meant. It’s just, Killian is the head of the family and his wife should respect that.”

“I have all the respect in the world for my husband,” Aria purred. “Just not for spoiled little shits who think they can talk to me any way they please in my own home.”

“Do you hear how she’s talking to me? Seriously, Killian, you can’t⁠—”

“Rowan,” Killian interrupted, his tone deceptively calm. “Get the fuck out of my house.”

Without giving his son a chance to respond, Murphy grabbed him by the back of the shirt and hauled him to his feet. “Killian, Aria, our apologies. I will be sure my son offers you a full and sincere apology soon.”

“But I didn’t do anything wrong!”

“Shut up, Rowan,” Murphy snapped, his own waning patience clear in the razor sharpness of his tone. “Clara, come.”

Pushing back from the table, Clara popped obediently to her feet, a strained smile pulling at her lips. “I’m really sorry, everyone. He's not usually like this.”

“He is,” Killian said breezily, though there was still a bite to his tone. “And you have nothing to apologize for, Clara. You’re welcome to stay if you’d like and I can have my driver take you home after.”

“Ah…” Clara’s gaze slid toward the hall where Murphy and Rowan’s hushed voices could still be heard arguing with each other. “No. I should go. Rowan needs me.”

“All right, then.” Killian inclined his head. “Have a good night.”

She scurried out of the dining room and Killian set the knife down again. But his fingers moved, tapping against the table the way they did when he was agitated or thinking something over. “My apologies for my… overreaction.”

“Please.” Reagan snorted. “That boy has needed someone to put him in his place for years.”

“Perhaps. But that’s not who we are anymore.”

“Well, for what it’s worth, I thought it was really hot.” Eyes sparkling with mischief, Aria grinned at him over the rim of her water glass. “Kinda wanna go jump your bones now.”

“That’s it, everyone out of my house. You too, Reagan.”

“Hey!”

Laughter erupted around the table easing some of the tension left behind by Rowan’s outburst. But just as they were all settling in to return to their meal, Murphy came striding back into the dining room, a grim expression on his face. “We have company. Car parked out front, clearly surveillance. Fucking feds aren’t even trying to hide it.”

Immediately, Brody’s mind went to a certain bratty, bright-eyed author. But surely even she was smart enough not to conduct surveillance right outside a mob boss’s house.

Right?

“I’ll check it out,” he said, pushing to his feet. “Don’t wait for me.”

“No fighting with the police!” Killian called after him as he followed Murphy to the entryway where Rowan was still standing, looking so smug Brody had to force his fist to unclench. Beside him, Clara’s expression was stricken, worried, and not for the first time Brody found himself hoping she got free of Rowan sooner rather than later.

“Are the police really watching us?” she whispered, as if they could hear her through the thick walls of the house.