Page 86 of Sinfully Savage Mafia

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 fecking fun box is still open for business, let’s go find some cute boys to play in it with, 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 DJ’s speakers make my ears ring.

I’d gladly welcome tinnitus if it can help block out all 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 Conor as successor for my father.

Just thinking those words makes my heart clench. What would Mom think if she were 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 here. I’m on my own and I miss her so much, but I’m not going to cry.

She always tried to take on my pain as hers and was the one person 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 house with four overbearing brothers.

And after tomorrow, it will be downright hellish.

Fucking Conor?

How could they?

When Granddad told Dad 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 erupted. 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 flow through my mind. I take a deep breath and just dance, trying desperately to lose myself in the pulsating beats.

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 focused on helping my father run things in Hell’s Kitchen, dropping out of college for a life Mom didn’t want for me, one I never wanted. But I know my place, and Dad needed help, and I’m good at it. But this…betrayal… Shit.

It burns on top of losing her.

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 it could have been treated if she’d 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?

A pair of strong hands from behind me grips my hips, jerking me backward, and I gasp, losing my footing. Molly giggles. “Just go with it. He’s hot!”

My supper of soda bread and stew churns in my gut.

Maybe I should go for it. The guy, more booze. Maybe an edible. Anything to distract.

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.

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