Page 125 of King of the Cage

36

GIADA

Imade it just over a week in my apartment before I had to get out of there. Since I didn’t want my brother’s posse following me around, telling me what I could and couldn’t do, I lost them only a block away from home.

Seriously, they were dreaming if they thought they could keep eyes on me. I knew the De Sanctis playbook inside and out. Slipping Elio’s security was easy.

After, I wandered aimlessly around shops, peering in, imagining going in and buying something, but nothing held my interest.

Honestly, most days, I felt normal, except for a nagging feeling like I’d left something important at home. Like that persistent itch in your brain that you’ve forgotten your passport when you’re on your way to the airport, or you’ve left the oven on or something.

I wandered Midtown, heading west. I wasn’t familiar with this part of the city but kept burrowing deeper into its streets, led by an invisible string. The afternoon was drawing in, and I wasgetting cold. I should have worn something thicker than my leather jacket. I needed something to warm me up.

The lights of a pub sitting on the corner tugged my attention. It was a riot of color on the dull street.There. I want to go there. The instinct was too strong to ignore. I pushed through the door before I could stop myself.

Warm air hit my face, enveloping me immediately. Comforting smells of home-cooked food and the soft strains of live music filled the air. I ventured deeper into the pub and approached the bar.

There was a man behind it, big and broad, with red hair.

He raised an eyebrow at me. “Can I help you, lass?”

“Can I get something warm? It’s so cold out.”

“A hot toddy coming up. You go sit in your booth; I’ll bring it over.”

I moved away.Your booth?It was an odd thing to say, but then he was clearly Irish, and maybe it was lost in translation. A weird coincidence, considering who my so-called husband was. I headed to a nice-looking booth, far back from the loudest area, and slid into the cozy recess.

The bartender appeared a moment later and placed the drink down.

“How much do I owe you?”

He shushed me and waved a hand nonchalantly. “Later. Drink up.”

I cupped my hands around the hot glass and let the warmth sink into my bones. There was a little swinging door leading to thekitchen, and plates of food kept passing me by, trailing amazing smells as they went.

Should I eat something? I’d barely formed the thought when a woman appeared at the door and leaned an ample hip against it.

“Fergus said you were here. Hungry?”

“Um, yes, do you have a menu?”

The woman tutted and turned back to the kitchen. “I’ll bring you something you like.”

She walked away without a second glance. I guessed that was that.

I listened to the music and watched the hustle and bustle of the pub. A little while later, the door swung open again, and the cook placed a hot bowl of food in front of me.

Mashed potatoes and fragrantly herby sausages, with a thick dark gravy poured over it all. My stomach grumbled loudly, and the cook laughed.

“You eat up, pet. You look like you’ve been starving yourself.”

“Do I? We don’t know each other, right?”

The woman stared at me for a beat and then nodded. “Well, I’m Aoife. Now we do. You eat and enjoy.”

She sat next to me, eyeing the musicians, her hand tapping on her lap. I started to eat. Wasn’t she going to leave? It should have felt awkward, sitting there eating while a complete stranger watched on.

But it didn’t.

---