Page 4 of Dating the Don

I grab hold of the man’s shoulder and lean forward, the saccharine smile never leaving my face for a moment.

The tip of the knife forces his eyelid open as he strains to lean further back into the chair as if there’s anywhere for him to go.

“Were the teeth not enough? Should I go for something a little bit more vital?”

The man is blubbering and blustering and attempting to get away as carefully as possible.

“I suggest that you stop squirming, you wouldn’t want me to slip,” I taunt him.

I grab his forehead, grasphim byhis bloody hair, when a body literally falls down the stairs.

Who the hell has the audacity to disturb me?

It takes half a moment longer to recognize the tangle of limbs and stunning red hair before me.

Maeve.

“I’msonot cleaning that…” I hear her mumble.

What the hell is she doing in my basement? One, the staff all know better than to come down here when the door is locked. Andtwo,there’s no way now to stop her from seeing the truth that I, and my whole family, have kept from her her entire life.

It’s like a horror movie. In slow motion.

My instincts scream at me to go over there and help her up, to make sure that she’s unharmed but my feet won’t move. I have blood on my shoes. I have blood on my hands, and likely splattered on my face and clothes. There’s no hiding that.

All I can do is tell Al that he needs to put thegun pointing at heraway.

Fuck.

She’s seen everything, there’s no escaping it. And that’s something I didn’t need on my plate right now.

When she lifts herself off the ground and turns to face us, I try to train my features into something impartial and cold. Before I can even put away the knife I am holding, thefucking coward on the chairstarts screaming for her help.

“Please! Help! Please! Help me! You have to get me out of here! Please! Let me out!” He blubbers, tears running down his face. I can’t even tell if they are real or performative at this point.

She hasn’t looked at me yet.

Good.

Because I don’t think I could stand the look of disgust in her eyes, or whatever else I might see reflected there.

I should have had guards posted at the door. It was a foolish mistake that might now cost meeverything.

Historically speaking, the easiest way to handle situations where people see something about the mob that they shouldn't be seeing is for them to simply... die.

But I cannot kill my little sister’s best friend.

She looks paralyzed by the situation that she’s gotten herself into.

“Take Miss Cunningham to her room, please,” I order Al in a tight, clipped tone.

Al moves silently to carry out my orders but stops only a moment later as the worm in the chair speaks.

“Cunningham?” He mutters, voice oily.

I can see him looking at her. I should pluck his eyes out. His gaze lands on the apron she's wearing and the embroidered initials of her mother in the bottom corner.

“You are much younger… you don’t… you can’t be…” His eyes start to widen, assuming who the woman in the room with us might actually be. I can see him moving through the pieces, sorting them out in his mind as he comes to the conclusion that I didn’t want him to come to.

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