Page 16 of Scandalous Kingpin
My brother appeared behind me, catching me completely off guard.
“Who?” I feigned ignorance. It would be a cold day in hell before I admitted my feelings to anyone.
“The Irish princess,” he clarified, as if there were any other woman who could possibly catch my interest. “For the record, I think she’d be good for you.”
“Because she’s stolen from us, is difficult, and doesn’t know when to keep her mouth shut?” I muttered. “Not to mention how awkward family gatherings would be knowing Juliette’s secret.”
Dante cleared his throat, not disagreeing, as he turned to me. “Tyran announced to anyone who would listen that you’ve staked your claim on Ivy Murphy.”
Of course the prick would.God save me from the fucking Irish.
Yet, even as I silently uttered that prayer, I knew deep down there was no saving me from this self-destructive path.
I was on my way out of Irish Pricks when someone caught my eye in one of the side rooms: Aiden Callahan. He was seated at the private bar, nursing a glass half-filled with amber liquid. Danil Popov was seated next to him, his back stiff and the two in a heated discussion.
I should leave—I knew not to start shit—but even as I told myself that, my feet headed in his direction.
I stopped in front of Aiden, my dark mood on display, and he raised his head, arching a brow.
“Priest,” he greeted me, smiling smugly. “I hear youalmostdanced with the birthday girl.” The challenge in those blue eyes was unmistakable. “You should snatch her while you still have the chance.”
While I contemplated whether to punch the smirk off his face or just beat him to a pulp, Danil cleared his throat.
“I’m getting the fuck out of here.”
Neither one of us looked his way as he stood and left.
“What? Cat got your tongue?” Aiden grinned wanly at me. “Ivy Murphy has that effect, doesn’t she?”
I got the distinct feeling he was fishing for information. Rather than play into his hand, I tilted my head and rolled up my sleeves. I might have bared my teeth too, one couldn’t be sure.
“Don’t ever say her name again,” I growled.
Aiden stood abruptly and stumbled off the barstool, clearly unwilling to appear as though he was cowering. He came toe to toe with me, watching me savagely.
“What’s the matter, old man?” I taunted against my better judgment. “Can’t handle your liquor?”
He scoffed, his eyes darkening on me, and glanced down at my fisted hands.
Aemon, Ivy’s brother, must have been alerted to the commotion because he was at Aiden’s side in a heartbeat. “I don’t recall inviting you, Italian,” he spat, glaring at me.
This was about to go down.
“What the fuck is going on here?” came out of thin air.
I glanced over my shoulder, finding my brother and cousin there, ready to square off, matching snarls on their faces.
I shrugged. “This Irishman can’t handle his liquor.”
Basilio snickered. “If he had a lick of Italian blood in him, he’d have no problem. I daresay there are probablymanythings he can’t handle.”
A look passed between the men that I couldn’t decipher, and it set me further on edge.
“Mr. Callahan is my guest tonight. We don’t want any trouble,” Aemon hissed, eyeing us all coldly. The unspoken words—this is a Murphy party—hung in the air.
“Let him be,” Aiden muttered. “Maybe he’ll finally realize what we can all clearly see.”
My eyes darkened and I stepped forward, reaching to wrap my hand around his throat, my other fist pulled back. Suddenly, Dante grabbed my arm.
