Page 131 of Wicked Savage

“I don’t,” I say, keeping it simple, hoping that’ll be the end of it.

“Why?” Her brows knit. “You’re so old. You need a girlfriend. Or a wife,” she adds thoughtfully.

Well, that doesn’t make me feel ancient at all…

“Adora!” Brody scolds just as Fionn walks in with a grin plastered across his face.

“He sort of has a girlfriend. He’s in love with someone, but refuses to admit it. Isn’t that right?”

I shoot him a death glare. “Don’t listen to Uncle Fionn.”

“I always listen to him.” She lifts her chin proudly. “He’s smart.”

“See? Smart.” Fionn taps his temple, looking far too pleased with himself.

“You’re lucky the kid’s here.” I elbow him, and she giggles when he fakes a dramatic collapse.

It’s all lighthearted, but beneath it, tension coils tight in my chest, wrapping around the truth I’ve never said aloud.

Love. I never admitted it, never dared to name it. But what I feel for her…it’s more than that. Like the word itself isn’t enough to contain the depth of what she means to me.

And I wonder if it’s too late to tell her.

Dinner is served, conversation flowing easily, laughter filling the space. For a while, it feels normal. Until my father’s voice slices through the noise, shattering the illusion.

“So, son…” His eyes fix on me from across the table. “When are you going to settle down like the rest of your brothers and sisters?”

Here it comes. The question that’s been asked a thousand times before.

“Now that the love of his life is back, I’m sure it’ll be any day now,” Iseult throws in, a teasing smile curling on her lips.

Of course. Fionn told her.

Gio’s head snaps between the two of us, curiosity flickering in his eyes. “Wait, who are we talking about?”

“You know, that Marinov girl. Dinara,” Iseult says with a knowing look.

“Oh…” Gio nods, then takes a long sip of his drink.

My father’s face contorts, a flicker of hatred darkening his features.

“A Marinov?” he mutters, almost choking on the words.

Fernanda, his wife and Gio’s mother, rests a soothing hand on his shoulder.

“You can’t marry a Marinov.” His words are thick with the heaviness of the past.

“I’m not marrying anyone, Dad. Let it go.” I try to keep my tone neutral. “Dinara and I are in the past.”

Or more like she wants nothing to do with me anymore while I’m still obsessed.

“Then why the hell did I see you with your tongue down her throat?” Fionn laughs, a low, teasing sound.

“Children are present!” Tynan’s wife, Elara, scolds, covering their daughter’s ears.

“Uncle Cillian, how do you put your tongue into someone’s throat? Do you have a very long tongue?”

The entire table erupts in laughter, and I slam a hand over my face. This isnothappening.

---