Page 13 of Mob Star

He straightens, and I look up. I don’t know what that word means. It must be Irish. It sounds like a term of endearment. That he’s already come up with a name for me that only he uses— that he can claim any part of me— even my name —as his… It makes me want to jump his bones.

“Why?”

“Because I can.”

If it came from anyone else, he’d sound like an asshole. But as we watch each other, something is happening that I can’t explain. He’s letting me know my attraction isn’t one-sided. We’re letting each other know we want to do something about it. His self-assuredness is what most people would call cocky. But it’s not bravado. Everything about him tells me he has the ability and the certainty that he can back up whatever he says.

“You don’t even know my last name.”

“You know I’m an O’Rourke. I suppose I am at a disadvantage.”

“Gallagher.”

He walks around the bar and comes to stand behind me. His hands rest on my waist, and we watch each other in the mirror. We make a striking couple since our coloring couldn’t be more opposite. Despite how fair he is with red hair and freckles, there’s a perma-tan that tells me he’s spent a lot of time outdoors over the years. But it’s still a different skin tone than mine. I like to think I’m the best mix of both my parents. People rarely believe my light eyes come from my mom’s side of the family because she’s Black, and my dad’s mixed. But they do.

I wait to see if he’ll do more, but he’s still. The warmth of his hands seeps through my sweater top. Their weight is heavy, but not in a way that makes me feel trapped. It’s reassuring. It’s protective. His shoulders are so broad they stick out well past mine in the reflection. Even seated on a bar stool, my head only comes to just below his collarbones. I try to make my shift subtle as I lean back. It must be the only cue he needs because his right arm slides around my waist as he draws me against him.

He leans to whisper in my ear even though no one is close enough to hear. We’re not alone, but everyone else at least appears occupied with their own conversations. Despite the noise and people moving around, it’s almost possible to imagine we’re alone. The way we’ve talked and are now together feels too intimate be part of a crowd.

“I know you broke up with him today, but I don’t want this to be the last time I see you, Thea. When you’re ready, I’ll be waiting.”

His warm breath on my neck tickles. I shy away by instinct, but it just presses me against him more. His arm tightens, and his other hand squeezes my waist.

“I hope I can make you shiver like that again. But not while we’re in public.”

Our gazes remain locked in the mirror as he continues to whisper to me. Fucking hell. This is the sexiest thing I can remember since starting to mess around with guys when I was fifteen.

“Finn, I’ve known Tony since I started working at the hospital almost ten years ago. We were friends. Two months ago, we were both single. He finally convinced me to go on a date with him. It was fun. The first five weeks together were great. But thinking back on it, it was probably because we had little time to spend together. Our rotations were pretty much opposite, so we made the most out of the time we had. The last three weeks got worse. Even before today and the last time we were here, things were going sour. I was going to dump him last week, but then he announced this party and how he’d already told his friends I would be there. Hindsight being twenty-twenty, I think he knew I was ready to break up, so he manipulated the shit out of me by guilting me into staying with him. But I’d already decided I was going to end it tomorrow. Then I was going to end it tonight. And you saw how it actually ended.”

“Did he ever give you a hint of what he thought about you?”

“Never. That’s why I thought you blew things out of proportion when you refused to repeat what he said before. What did he say?”

“Thea, I get why you want to know. But it’ll only hurt your feelings, and I don’t want to be part of that.”

“It’s not your fault, and I won’t shoot the messenger.”

His left eyebrow twitches. It was an infinitesimal movement, and if I didn’t know what to look for with neurological responses, I would have missed it. It happened when I said the last three words. Tony called him a mobster… Hell.

“Finn, what does your family really do?”

I expect him to freeze. I expect him to be evasive.

“You heard what Tony called us. Do you know who those men were on the phone?”

“No.”

“If you google my family, you’ll find plenty. Thanks to some not-too-distant relatives, we’ve wound up in the news a lot more than we like. It’s no secret. The other families are less conspicuous these days.”

“I don’t understand. Was what Tony said about you and yours friends being mobsters true?” My heart is racing, and right now, it’s not because I’m turned on. Just the opposite.

“This is my bar, and most of the people in here are regulars. They come here for a reason. But I’d rather explain that reason in my office than out here for anyone to overhear.”

“You want me to go into an office alone with you to discuss whether you’re in the mafia?”

He looks duly insulted that I insinuated I’m not safe with him. But how the fuck should I know?

I should know because he’s done nothing but defend me since before he even saw me. Just the knowledge that I existed was enough for him to be protective. Now that we’ve met— the way he’s holding me is protective, as well as erotic. But I suddenly feel too confined, and I pull away from him. He releases me immediately, and that feels worse. I swivel on my stool. When I’m facing him, I nod, and he helps me down.

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