Page 116 of Broken Blood Ties

He glares at me, but I don’t miss the flicker of humiliation that winces over his expression.

“Why do you need him? He ignored your opinions about the alliance. Don’t you think it’s time to settle into your own here?”

Marco considers me, crossing his arms and scanning around. “What’s your point? We don’t have the manpower anymore.”

“Because of the Yakuza?”

Marco’s thin lips pop open, then closed, and the corner of his mouth twitches. “What do you know of the Yakuza?”

“I know they’re growing in numbers—worming their way into the Irish’s fights.”

He snorts. “Kieran running scared because of Riku now?”

My nostrils flare, and I step closer to Marco, snarling up at him. “Kieran doesn’t run.” Then I school my expression into a gritted smile, bringing both hands to smooth out his red tie.

“What do you want?”

“I want you to support Kieran.”

He lets out a chuckle, and for appearances, I join in with him. “What makes you think I care what you want?”

“You said it yourself. I’m a Buscetta by blood. What better way to prove to Salvatore you’re loyal to the Buscetta family after all these years.”

“Please. You ran from this life, and I’m sure you’re biding your time until you can again.”

Yanking his tie toward me, I whisper, “I’ll make it my mission to destroy you if you turn your back on me.”

Marco stumbles back, a genuine smile spreading wide on his face. “You really are a Buscetta.”

Chapter35

Kieran

As I hold the door open to O’Brien’s for everyone to enter for lunch, I have this insane urge to shut it in Summer’s face. Her sweet smiles and light smacks to Marco on the arm at church, like he’s the most interesting man in the world, had me struggling to maintain my cool. I barely listened to the one-sided argument with Ronan over his current position at one of my restaurants because I was drawn to where Summer had marched up to Marco.

They talked. And I have no idea what about.

“Hey!” Lizzy says, pulling some chairs over from the surrounding tables. She’s already pulled several tables together to make a long rectangular one and draped it with a navy tablecloth. Three vases of white roses are evenly spaced down the center with table settings placed at each spot, and our chef is already preparing dishes.

When Cormac and I decided to attend Mass for show, having a family style meal at O’Brien’s afterward became an option. Lizzy took care of everything. We normally don’t open until 4:00 p.m. on Sundays, so it’s just a few of my men, including Finn, Cormac, and Callum. Then Oliver, Lizzy, Aoife, Summer, and myself.

When Summer marches her perfect ass through the door behind everyone else, I snag her arm, pulling her close to me.

“Care to tell me what yer conversation with Marco was about?”

“Not really, no,” she says. I yank her closer to me, pulling in a breath to steady myself. With my opposite hand, I grab her chin. She tries to pull away, but I grip her tighter. Her soft skin underneath my fingertips brings back memories of our kiss, and before I know it, my mouth lowers to hers with a ferocity I don’t recognize.

Her lips taste like peaches and summertime with a light sticky residue of lip gloss coating them. Her body softens for me, and a hushed whimper sounds in the back of her throat, as I swipe my tongue across her seam before pulling away.

“Ye’ll tell me eventually.”

She blinks up at me, swaying ever so slightly toward me.

When I turn around from the door, everyone is staring at us. Each expression is smug, with the exception of Aoife’s. Hers is beaming.

Damn it.

I shouldn’t have kissed Summer in front of her. I haven’t found a way to tell Aoife what’s going on, and with the possibility of Summer not wanting to stay—that would break Aoife’s heart. Both of ours, if I’m being honest.

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