Page 77 of Scandalous Kingpin
We shared glances, determination on our faces. “Then it’s set,” I said, ready to wrap things up. “We’ll arrange a meeting.”
“Not so fast, sister.” Aemon sat back and crossed his arms, and I shot him a confused look. “We have to talk about your husband and your friend.”
That stinging in my eyes was back, but still no tears. Maybe there were only so many allowed in a lifetime and I’d spent all mine. I dragged in a deep breath and steeled myself for what was to come. Christian didn’t deserve my time and energy after the hurtful betrayal and lies, nor did Juliette.
If only my heart was on the same page.
“What about them?” My voice was surprisingly steady.
“We can’t let them get away with what they did,” Aemon stated matter-of-factly. “She killed Athair, and he…” His fists clenched and unclenched as if picturing beating Christian up. “He hurt you. You barely sleep, barely eat. All you do is stare into space. I should kill them.”
My brothers were pains in the ass sometimes, but I still loved them. Still, that didn’t mean they could go around killing people. Not to mention the mafia war it would start.
“I told you what I remembered of Athair’s meeting with Sofia Volkov.” I swallowed, unsure why I would even bother defending Juliette. These days she was the bane of my existence, every message received causing my insides to blaze like hellfire. I shoved the feelings somewhere deep and dark, hoping it’d cool off. “It’s obvious he had something to do with the death of her birth parents.”
Caelan leaned forward, his brow wrinkling as he studied me. “And what’s your scumbag husband’s excuse for lying to you?”
He wasn’t wrong. He had a choice, and he opted to lie and shove the blame onto Sofia Volkov. The woman was a far cry from innocent, but she didn’t murder our father.
What stung the most was that he took Dante and Juliette’s side but kept me in the dark. It was obvious that whateverChristian’s feelings were toward me, they weren’t strong enough to stick by me through thick and thin.
Maybe it’s for the best, I tried to comfort myself. At least I learned it early on rather than ten years down the road. There were no children involved—a thought that brought me almost as much comfort as it did pain.
“So your husband is fair game,” Bren stated calmly, and my spine straightened.
“No.” The word shot out of me like a bullet while my heart raced in my chest with images of a dead Christian. No, I couldn’t live with that. “None of you will kill him. Understood?”
They shared glances, not saying a word, then nodded.
“Noted,” Aemon said. “We won’t kill him, we’ll just make him hurt a bit.”
I stood up, tsking. “Do notkill him.” I handed out pointed looks, then headed for the door when a thought occurred to me and I stopped, throwing a glance over my shoulder. “But I would like my dog back.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
PRIEST
Aemon’s fist slammed into my face, and I barely had a chance to catch myself before stumbling back onto my ass.
I’d been expecting this visit since the moment I heard Ivy’s brother had landed in Philadelphia. Still, I made no move to avoid him or to defend myself. I deserved to have my ass handed to me by the head of the Murphy mafia.
“You. Motherfucking. Bastard,” he hissed, his eyes wild as he kneed my stomach. I doubled over, the breath stolen from my lungs. Another punch followed, this time to the side of my ribs, and I still did nothing.
The pummeling continued until I dropped to my knees. Fucking ironic, considering this entire thing started with me on my knees in front of Ivy, teaching her a lesson for her shenanigans in my brother’s casino. And now here her brother was, at the scene of that first encounter, laying me out.
But the physical pain was nothing compared to the pain I felt in my chest. I welcomed it. Relished it. It was what I deserved.
“What?” he snarled, looking at me like I was filth under his fingernails. He wasn’t far off. “Too much of a coward to punch me back?”
“Something like that,” I rasped.
Aemon hauled me up by my collar.
“You made my sister cry.” His words sliced through me. “You sick psychopath. Maybe you should have stuck to your nickname and become a priest.”
No physical beating could hurt more than the thoughts that’d been plaguing me. She accepted all my flaws and brokenness while I kept crucial information about her athair from her.
I dreamed of her face every night, of her expression before she walked away from me.
