“I’m growing tired of your excuses, Matteo. We had a deal and you aren’t making any moves to fulfill your end.”
“Listen, Jorge,” I say in a low voice, my eye on the door to the ladies’ lounge. “I told you the last time…it’s too soon to do anything. We agreed to the timeline! You can’t just pull back now. Too many things need to—”
“Excuses, excuses,” he says with a shake of his head. “Tsk-tsk, Matteo. I’m disappointed in you. I thought you wanted to build an empire.”
“I do,” I say through gritted teeth. “But I can’t do it if I make stupid moves just to satisfy you.”
“So first, you ‘miss’ our meeting using some bullshit excuse of your new, blended-family obligations, and now you disrespect me by calling me stupid?” he growls, stepping closer to me.
“I didn’t mean any disrespect,” I grunt. “I’m just saying that it’s not the time to make any impulsive moves. I understand your needs and wants. We discussed them and you know I’m onboard. But you have to trust me and give me some time.”
He points a finger at my chest. “Don’t fuck me, Matteo. Or I will destroy everything you’ve built here. And it won’t stop there.” He smirks, the thick mustache lining his upper lip curling upward. “I think you know what I mean by that.”
And then, just as quickly as he appeared, he heads down the hallway, his stout body swallowed up by naked, writhing bodies.
If I’m lucky, maybe he’ll get smothered by tits and ass and I won’t have to worry about the arrangement that is making me lose more and more sleep each passing night.
The door to the ladies’ lounge opens and Heaven saunters out, a smug smile on her gorgeous face. “Nothing crazy to report. Just a couple of girls scissoring.” She winks. “With anal beads.”
I force a smile, my gut clenched tight from the thinly veiled threat Jorge just put out there during our exchange. “Did they ask you to join in?”
She tilts her head to the side. “Of course. But I declined the invitation since I saw how well you took it the first time around.”
“Yeah, but two girls propositioning you is a whole different ballgame.”
“Balls,” she says with a snicker. “No pun intended, right?”
I drop a kiss onto her lips even though my throat is so tight I can barely breathe. “Pun always intended,” I rasp.
Heaven furrows her brow and peers at me with that sharp gaze that bores into my soul. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah, why?”
She shrugs. “You just look…I don’t know, off.”
“Maybe I’m just preoccupied with getting you naked again.”
“Oh. Well, in that case,” she quips, looping her arm with mine. “We’d better get home. Fast.”
Chapter Fifteen
Heaven
I stumble out of The Temple Bar, a pub in Dublin, clinging to my cousin, Molly. She’s trying hard to slick a lip gloss wand across her lips, but I’m making it difficult since I keep swaying into her. She has only succeeded in coloring her cheek and chin so far.
“Heaven forbid you learn to hold your liquor,” she quips, steadying me against the wall. “You’ve been in New York for too long, love.”
A loud chuckle erupts from my throat and I take a swig of the pint clutched in my hand. “You’ve, ah, got some lip gloss on your nose, too,” I say, backing into the railing as I point it out to her.
Molly rolls her eyes and pulls out a pack of cigarettes, lighting one up and taking a long drag. “Breathe, Heaven. You desperately need air right now.”
“If I sober up, I’ll just have too much crap running through my mind. It’s better this way,” I grunt, teetering in my heels.
“Listen, I know you’re preoccupied with that meeting,” Molly starts but I hold up a hand.
“Stop! I’m compartmentalizing!” I roll my eyes. “I’m not going to think about that tonight. I’m only opening the fun box tonight.”
“Sounds so dirty,” Molly says in a mischievous tone, taking a drag of her cigarette and blowing out a thin stream of smoke.
I force a giggle, even though the so-called fun box has just been doused by a big ass bucket of water courtesy of my cousin.
The meeting.
The reason my family is here in Dublin in the first place.
But I didn’t want to think about that tonight.
I’d already thought about it plenty after I overheard Granddad speaking to my father earlier. Snippets of the conversation bubble up in my mind, and I clench my glass tight, imagining it’s one of their necks.
Or both of them.
Molly gives me a curious look. “You sure you don’t want to let it out, Heaven? I mean, the booze will only help until you wake up tomorrow. And then you’re gonna have to deal with reality and a nasty hangover. Talk to me.”
I shake my head, my lips tight. “I’m fine. Really.”
Except I’m not. At all!
Molly takes a final drag before stomping on the butt with her high-heeled boot. “Well, if the fun box is still open for business, let’s go find some cute boys to play in it, yeah?”
I force a smile, chugging the rest of the beer. “Yes, that sounds like a good plan.” We head back into the pub, and the heavy sounds of the Dropkick Murphys blaring through the deejay speakers make my ears ring.
And I’d gladly welcome tinnitus if it can help block out all of the other things battling for airtime.
We push through the noisy, sweaty, and rambunctious crowd as we head for the dance floor. I really need to work my way out of this funk and figure out a plan for tomorrow.
Tomorrow, when Granddad announces that Conor will be the successor for my father.
Just thinking those words makes my heart clench.
What would Mom think if she was still here?
A pang assaults my heart, and the inside of my nose tickles as if I’m about to cry.
But she’s not, Heaven. You’re on your own here.
God, I miss her so much.
She was the one person I knew I could always count on. I spent endless hours with her, preparing food and slaving over the stoves at our pub in Hell’s Kitchen, famed for her specialty Irish fare. She taught me everything I know about cooking…and about how to shine in a houseful of men.
It wasn’t easy growing up as the second eldest Mulligan with four brothers flanking me on all sides.
And after tomorrow, it will be downright hellish, especially with my brother Conor at the helm.
Fucking Conor?!
How could they?
When I heard Granddad tell Dad that he thought Conor was the best choice, my blood simmered. And when Dad agreed, after all I’d done to prove myself most capable, I let it erupt. I’m younger by less than a damn year, but that’s not what’s holding me back.
It’s the fact that I don’t have a cock swinging between my legs.
Molly gives me a little shake as if she knows what toxic thoughts are flowing through my mind and wants to snap me out of my poisonous bubble. I take a deep breath and just dance, trying desperately to lose myself in the pulsating beats. I look around through the haze, seeing lots of smiling faces surround me.
I wish I could say mine matched all of them.
But I can’t find a single shred of happy inside of me. Seems like those all deserted me when Mom died. For the past six torturous months, I’ve been focused on helping my father run things back home in the States, even though I knew Mom would hate the role I’d taken on.
She never would have approved of me becoming my father’s successor.
She wanted me to be successful doing something legitimate — like becoming a doctor or a lawyer. When I started college, she was elated. Mom always taught me to shoot for the stars, never to let myself get caught in the muck of organized crime. I know she always hated her own circumstances, with her father being so ingrained in the Dublin mafia. She lived a life she hated, one where she was pretty much living in a gilded cage because Granddad had a lot of danger
ous enemies who were always lurking and ready to pounce on anyone in his care.
Revenge was always being served for one indiscretion or another.
But Dad rescued her from all of that and gave her meaning and purpose in America. They worked hard to build their businesses and little by little, took more and more control over midtown Manhattan, where they originally settled and raised us all.
Then, a few months ago, life imploded and she was taken from us.
Stage four stomach cancer was the diagnosis.
And six weeks later, she was gone.
Forever.
It didn’t have to be the case, though.
That was the jagged pill that still tears up my insides. The doctors all agreed that it could have been treated if she’d have spoken up sooner instead of fighting the pain.
But she always fought, always battled against anything perceived as a weakness.
So stubborn, so hot-headed.
Something I’d always admired so much about her ended up being the very thing that snuffed out her life.
How fucking ironic is that?
Maybe I’m doomed to suffer the same fate.
Like mother, like daughter.
A pair of strong hands from behind me grips my hips, jerking me backward, and I gasp, losing my footing. Molly giggles at the look of shock evident on my face. “Just go with it,” she whisper-shouts. “He’s hot!”
But my supper of soda bread and stew continues to churn in my gut.
Could be from too much beer.
But it’s more likely because of the impending disaster that my life is about to become in only mere hours.
And since the booze isn’t working, maybe the cute guy can do the job I need him to.
The guy and maybe an edible.
Anything to distract me.
I let his hands roam my torso and the curves of my ass before I swivel around to look at him. Truth be told, I don’t give a damn what he looks like. If I can’t drink away the frustration and the anger, I can sure as hell fuck it away.
And from the looks of it, Molly is already well on her way. She gives me a nudge, and I twist around, not expecting much because that’s just how my life is going lately, and why should it be any different here on foreign soil?
When I see the guy standing over me with his crooked smile and laughing brown eyes, I bite down on my lower lip.
Well, well, well.
Someone decided to throw me a bone.
And I’m about to enjoy it.
I wrap my arms around his waist and he pulls me close, brushing his lips against my ear. “What’s your name, beautiful?” he murmurs.
“Heaven,” I say, grinding against him.
He slides his leg between mine, his fingers toying with the hem of my shirt. “Yes, you fucking are, sweetheart.” He backs me into a corner off the dance floor, far enough away from Molly that I can’t reach out and grab her.
An inexplicable ripple of doubt thrums in my belly.
This is ridiculous. I’m being insane!
I wanted a distraction, and just like that, this very delicious one drops into my lap, almost literally.
I swallow my apprehension and tilt my head back to stare up at him. His gaze is heated and filled with longing. He stares at me for a few seconds before his lips come crashing down on mine, urging them open with his tongue. He hugs me tight as he plunders my hungry mouth. His fingers scorch a path over my skin, sliding over my bra.
And then a shiver snakes through my insides, chilling me.
It feels right.
But very wrong at the same time.
His hands get more demanding, his body almost overpowering.
I’m down for a little shifting, but something about this is definitely off.
Besides, he doesn’t look like the typical guys from around here.
I let out a muffled yelp, pushing him away.
I twist around, searching the dance floor for Molly but she’s gone.
Vanished.
“I need to find my cousin,” I rasp as he grasps my wrist.
“Look, I’m sorry if I went too fast,” he says. I can’t hear too well because of the pounding music, but I detect a bit of an accent, though I can’t exactly place it in my current state. “I guess I just got caught up. You’re so hot and sexy and—”
“Thanks very much,” I interrupt. “But I’ve gotta go.”
Since I’m right near the restroom, I run in there, just to make sure she’s not passed out in one of the bathroom stalls. But even as I cut through the line, I know she isn’t. Molly can hold her liquor better than anyone I know, including my brothers.
I search the stalls, pounding on the locked ones, but sure enough, she isn’t there.
She wouldn’t have just left me here, even to hook up with some guy.
I pull out my phone and dial her number.
It goes straight to voicemail.
The panic that rippled through me only moments ago now crashes over me like a goddamn tsunami.
I rush back onto the dance floor, trying like hell to remember the guy who’d had his scumbag hands all over her. But try as I might, I can’t remember. He’d been wearing a baseball cap, just like pretty much every other guy in here.
It’s not exactly a distinguishing characteristic.
I take a few deep breaths, trying to clear my head and think.
It’s amazing how sober I feel in this moment after being damn-near inebriated such a short time ago. But Molly is gone and pure, unadulterated fear has chased away the fuzzy, drunken cobwebs that were hanging low in my mind. I have to find her! I push my way through the crowd and run out the front door of the pub. “Molly!” I shout.
The pub is located on a corner, and the cobblestone streets surrounding the entrance are quiet. It’s late, so the restaurants on the street are closed. I run around to the side of the building, my high-heeled feet pounding the slick stones as I scream for Molly. There’s a darkened alley in my view and I hear loud voices erupt from about twenty feet away.
“…let her go…distracted…now she’s gone!”
My brow furrows, the foreign accent making my throat tighten.
Sounds like the guy from the pub…
I jog toward them and a faint shriek pierces the still air.
Molly!
I pull off my boots because I can’t risk them hearing me coming.
And the thought occurs to me that I might need to use them as weapons.
I ignore the pain, the bottoms of my feet being sliced by sharp stone edges as I run.
More angry yelling ensues and this time, they aren’t speaking English at all. They’re arguing in their own native tongue and it’s vicious judging by the disdain dripping from their words. I strain to hear something, anything I can recognize.
One thing makes bile rise in my throat…one spoken name makes my throat clench.
“…Eamon Mulligan…”
I clap a hand over my mouth.
Uncle Eamon.
Molly’s dead father.
He only died recently. It was an ‘accident’, although I’d never heard that anyone found the people who caused it.
Hairs on the nape of my neck stand on end as I creep closer to the voices and hear another whimper and plea. I reach a desolate parking lot surrounded by trees and brush and I inch closer, peering around a bush.
Molly, oh God, Molly, what have they done to you?
I see my cousin lying on the ground, writhing against a guy with his jeans around his ankles. Another guy has his hand slapped against her mouth to silence her.
“Do we kill her and let her family find her?”
“No,” another guy mutters. “Get her into the car and go. Now! They’ll find her when we want them to.”
“No!” I scream, darting toward the group, my heels in my outstretched hand. I swing, kick, and yell until the guy who’d had me pressed up against him in the club pulls out a gun.
He walks toward me slowly, pointing it a
t my forehead. “Your job is to notify the family, sweetheart. Can you handle that for us?”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see one of the guys shove a needle into Molly’s arm. Her body goes limp almost instantly, and they throw her in the back of the nondescript sedan with no license plate.
“Help!” I scream as loud as my voice will allow. “Please help me!”
The guy’s face is a tangled mess of fury, his lips twisted into a scowl. “Shut up,” he growls.
I let out another bellowing scream. “No!” I jump at him, slashing his face with one of my boots. The narrow heel catches on his cheek and he sputters in whatever the hell language he speaks, blood streaming down his face. “You can’t save her, Heaven. You never could.”
I recoil at his words, my eyes wide, my body rooted to the spot as he comes as me, swinging the gun at my temple.
As I crash to the ground, one last thought paralyzes my mind.
He’s right. I couldn’t save her. I couldn’t save myself. Dad and Granddad were right.
I didn’t…I couldn’t…I won’t…
And the world, as if it wasn’t black enough before, drowns out all remaining hope.
For Molly.
For me.
“Molly!” I shriek, shooting straight up in the bed, tugging the sheet to my throat. I gasp, my eyes darting around the room…the once which has become so familiar to me after almost two weeks.
Matteo rolls over, pushing off of the mattress to gather me in his arms. It’s been two nights since our erotic encounter at Risk, and more than anything, I need to hear his soothing voice right now. I need someone to fool me into believing that I’m not to blame, that I’m not the reason why she’s gone. “Heaven, it’s okay,” he murmurs, holding me tight as tears stream down my face.
But it’s not okay.
I don’t think it ever will be.
It was so real…
The nightmare.
I’ve lived it so many times, I can’t even count.
“No,” I whimper against his shoulder. “It isn’t at all.”
Savage Ruler: A Dark Italian - Irish Mafia Arranged Marriage Romance (Sinfully Savage) Page 14