Page 89 of Fix You

“Spit it out,” Father commanded.

“Why?” When Father just stared at me, I took a step towards him. “You gave me your word that you wouldn’t ever try to hurt Caterina again.”

He tried to shrug as best he could in his binds. “Carmine offered me a better deal.”

“One that was worth more than your daughter’s life?”

“Caterina ceased to exist in my eyes the moment she defied me by joining the Sacred Heart. Marrying her to Carmine ensured not only that she paid for her disobedience, but an amazing opportunity was opened to us with Bratva.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Gianni questioned.

“Carmine’s daughter was just married to Mikita Komarov’s son.”

The name instantly rang a bell. He was the head of the Jersey Bravta. Leo made a noise of disgust. “Allegra? She isn’t even eighteen.”

“She’s a married woman now, and her alliance opened a whole new world with Bratva.”

With a shake of my head, I countered, “You risked your daughter’s life for fucking nothing. You’re both dead men, and Mikita’s saddled with a useless alliance.”

Father’s eyes narrowed on me. “It was good business regardless of the outcome.”

“The Famiglia is about blood and tradition. No one would’ve stood with you after you cut us out and sacrificed Caterina.”

“Marone, get on with it. I’d rather you killed me than listen to you.” He spit in my face. “How I ever sired the three of you I’ll never know.”

As I slowly swiped my cheek with the back of my hand, I nodded at Gianni. He tossed me the cylinder-shaped blow torch. “One thing I learned from my alliance with Kavanaughs is how useful fire can be in torture.”

A maniacal smile curved on my lips as the blow torch flared to life. “You’ll burn on this side and the other.”

And then the three of us descended on him.

Chapter Seventeen: Maeve

As I put the freshly made soda bread in the oven, I eyed my watch to note the time. I then went over to the counter where Mam was preparing the Shepherd’s Pie. “What should I work on now?”

“How about the Guinness pies?”

Wrinkling my nose, I replied, “Why not my usual mince ones?”

Mam shot me a look. “Are you seriously asking me that? You know as well as I do that Guinness pies are special on St. Patrick’s Day.”

I held my hands up. “Okay, okay, don’t get your cacks in a twist over it,” I teased as I made my way over to the fridge.

“I’ll twistyourcacks if you don’t keep the traditions alive,” Mam shot back with a smile.

We arrived in Boston yesterday morning in preparation to celebrate St. Patrick’s Day as a family. It was especially important to Mam to be present for Caterina’s first one as a Kavanaugh, so she could help Caterina adopt her new Irish ways.

This trip also marked my first time back in the states since Christmas. While an ocean had separated Rafe and me in the past few months, it had done nothing to dull my feelings for him. Because of the way our families were intertwined, I couldn’t help thinking of him whenever I talked to Caterina, which was quite a lot.

My mind was on him today as we began preparing the food for the feast that would take place in two days. I didn’t have to wonder about seeing him. As this was strictly an Irish holiday, I knew Caterina wouldn’t be inviting her brothers. In a way, I was relieved while at the same time, I would’ve given anything to see him again.

At least we had somewhat different scenery to take my mind off things. Instead of being at the Beacon Hill house, we were in one of our own that the brothers had bought for Mam. With the four of them in permanent residence on Beacon Hill, there never seemed to be enough room when we all came to visit. So, they’d remedied that issue by purchasing a quaint historical townhome a street over from theirs.

As I started heating the butter in a saucepan, Mam’s phone rang. “Can you grab that?”

“Sure,” I replied. While eyeing the pan, I said, “Hello?”

“Where’s Mam?” Kellan demanded.

---