Page 106 of Broken Blood Ties

The hardness of his jaw, coupled with the blood smeared over his brow, makes him look fierce. He sets his shoulders and raises his chin as he ignores my questions in favor of repeating his own. “What. Are. Ye. Doing. Summer?”

“I-I couldn’t sleep.” I worry with the corner of my lip.

“So naturally ye felt the need to barge into me office in the middle of the night.”

Heat soars into my cheeks as he lazily skims my undoubtedly shameful face.

I fist my robe together, swallowing. “I’m sorry.”

He marinates on my words before moving past me toward the drawers of his desk. He opens one, pulling out a first aid kit and taking it with him to the couch. Groaning, he flops on it in a totally ungraceful way, and I’m not sure why that makes my mouth twitch with a hint of a smile.

As he fumbles around, I move to sit next to him.

“Are you going to tell me what happened?” I ask, studying the lines creasing between his brows that make me want to soothe them.

When he halts the dig through the kit, I pluck it from his hands as his stare bores into the side of my head.

“Do ye really want to know? Thought ye didn’t want this life.”

I wince but quip back to lighten the mood. “I mean, I’m pretend engaged to you so I guess that means I should want to know.”

When he doesn’t respond right away, I let out an airy laugh, then chide myself as I peel open some gauze. Jeez, Summer.

“And if it weren’t pretend?”

I freeze, meeting his intense stare, and he runs a finger under the collar of his V-neck, eyes softening a bit.

“If it weren’t pretend then I’dneedto know.”

My breathing runs away with itself as his face hovers near mine. Is he closer? Too close?No, my mind screams.Not close enough.

I wrap a piece of gauze around two fingers and lift it between us. “Let me,” I say. I’m surprised my voice is so calm when my insides feel like they’re shaking violently.

Gently, I prod the gash above his eyebrow, trying to obsess over anything other than his proximity. “So, what happened?”

“I won me fight.” The words come out with a grimace, and he squints, staring off at the obnoxious boat painting.

“Fight?”

“I’m guessing ye don’t know much about the Irish, do ya?”

I shake my head.

“We’re probably different than what ye’re used to in the Cosa Nostra. The O’Donnell’s have been the head family for generations, passing down the restaurants and business to push dirty money through.”

I blink, most definitely not accustomed to this world anymore. But I want to know. Ineedto know. I pull another piece of gauze out and dab it over the same cut to distract myself.

“Somewhere along the line we spearheaded the underground boxing ring attracting anyone from those on the streets needing extra cash, to the powerful elite of other organizations. It um … the ring is under O’Brien’s.”

That has my head snapping back.

“Andyoufight? Personally?” I may not be in the Mafia circles much anymore, but if there’s one surety, most leaders, my father included, they don’t like to get their hands dirty. They’ll farm out anything. There’s something about him getting down in the trenches with everyone that makes my heart leap.

“Aye. Takes the edge off. Plus, I generally enjoy trainin’ and gettin’ in the ring.”

I nod, opening a butterfly closure from the kit, and scoot closer to him. His thigh brushes mine, the warmth of his muscle pressing into my bare leg, and it takes the will of a saint not to crawl into his lap.

“So, you won! That’s great!” It comes out all high pitched and disingenuous because of my thumping heart and pulsing body, but I’m not sure he notices.

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