Page 38 of Forced Vows

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Allessio: This is the first time I've heard her swear.

That doesn't surprise me. Like his father before him, Brogan Shaughnessy has some old-fashioned views about women, especially those in his family.

An Irish mob princess doesn't talk like a made man and those men don't drop the f-bomb in a princess's hearing.

I've heard Róise say the word fuck though. In bed.

Fuck me, Ares. Fuck me now!

I fix my gimlet glare on Allessio. "You let her leave the house like that?"

I sweep my hand toward my soon-to-be fiancée whose entire midriff is bare. The drab greens in the plaid on the flannel shirt are fine, but they're accented with thin pink lines. Every fucking button is open and her fucking little pink bra is on full display.

"You didn't tell me to play fashion police," Allessio replies with a sardonic twist of his lips.

Zoey's eyes are wide and she looks concerned for me, not the little hellion still shouting about inconsiderate jerks who make an ox look savvy.

It's a convoluted insult, but I'm impressed all the same.

"Uh, it's a bralette, boss," Zoey informs me.

"And that is better how?" I demand.

"It's uh, cotton and it doesn't show her cleavage."

"Just all the skin above and below that tiny band of fabric."

"Are you still harping about my clothes? Seriously? Did we go to sleep and wake up in the Dark Ages? Oh, yeah, I guess we did because I've got Thing 1 and Thing 2 following me all over campus!"

Okay, security detail first and appropriate clothes to wear out of the house second.

"Close the door, Róise, and we can discuss the change in your security like adults." Her flaming temper turns me on, but she's going to have to learn to curb it.

At least when others are around.

"If you considered me an adult, you would have discussed them with me before they showed up at my house this morning."

"Your uncle knew they were coming. I assumed he would inform you." Which was an error on my part.

I'm not usually that obtuse. As in almost never. I'm the underboss of the most powerful crime family in New York. I can't afford to misread even minor situations like this one.

"You mean like he told me who I was marrying?" she asks with scathing accuracy.

I silently signal to Allessio to clear the room and close the door.

But Ollie, Róise's Irish bodyguard, refuses to budge. "I'm not leaving Miss Shaughnessy alone in a room with a Cosa Nostra underboss."

"You are mistaken, Ollie. That is exactly what you are going to do." Remaining seated, I stare the other man down.

He doesn't shift or drop his eyes.

I'm surprised. Few people can hold my gaze when their imminent pain is in my eyes. I would be more impressed if his charge hadn't gotten away from him and the other guards in Portland. For the whole damn night.

"Your vigilance is a little late, don't you think?" I taunt.

Róise jerks, her face paling and she glares at me. "Shut up!"

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