Page 5 of Bride By Initiation

"Doesn't look like nothing," Fiona asserts, glancing between us.

"He's right. It's nothing," Zara agrees, then grabs her purse off the table, brushes past us, and adds, "I need another drink."

Fiona watches her leave and then spins on me. "What was that all about?"

"None of your business. Get over yourself." I tug Shannon into me and kiss her on the cheek. "Happy birthday! I couldn't get to you with all the people inside."

Happiness radiates from her. She hugs me back. "Thanks for coming."

"Like I would miss it."

"Well, I know you're busy with all your fights, Mr. Champion," she teases.

I groan. "Not you too."

"Don't make his head bigger than it is," Fiona adds.

Pride fills Shannon's features, reminding me of how Boris looked at her earlier. She says, "I need a favor from you."

"Anything for my favorite cousin," I reply.

Her face lights up more. She asks, "Then I shouldn't be ashamed to ask for four front-row seats to your next fight?"

I chuckle. "Nope. You got it."

She claps. "Yay! Thanks, Sean! You're the best!"

I hug her again. "Happy birthday."

"Thanks!"

I brush past them and go back inside, scouring the pub for Zara. Before I can find her, I run into Maksim Ivanov.

His thick Russian accent fills the air. "Sean, good fight the other night."

"Thanks."

Uncle Killian steps up next to him. He slings his arm around my shoulders, boasting, "Lad learned it all from the great one. Me."

Maksim snorts. "That's debatable."

Killian declares, "You got that jab down like I taught you!"

"You mean how I taught him," my stepfather, Dante, states as he joins us. Then he adds, "Your mother's been looking for you all night."

"Where is she?" I question, glancing around but freezing when I see Zara talking to a dark-haired guy I don't know.

"She's in the big front booth with the other women," Dante informs me.

"Thanks for letting me know. See you all later." I zig-zag through the crowd but stop when I get near Zara.

"I haven't made up my mind yet," she states.

The hairs on my arms rise.

The guy warns, "Time is ticking."

"Ticking for what?" I interject.

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