Page 17 of A Dark Mafia Christmas

Okay, what have I done now?

“Granny Mary’s engagement ring?”

She blinks away the tears and smiles at the room without making eye contact with any of the guests. It’s a skill. Auntie Erin would rather be alone in the kitchen with her thoughts than making small talk at a party.

I’d forgotten all about the engagement ring. “Mary chose the ring.”

“You forgot about it, didn’t you?” Erin knocks my ribs with her elbow. “Good luck explaining that to Granny in the morning when she’s sober.”

I smile, seeking Granny out with my eyes. She’s sitting at the far end of the dining table chatting to her neighbor Mrs. Kelly, a glass of whiskey in front of her. “I’ll just have to keep her glass full then.”

Just then, a strange kind of hush settles over the room, and Fianna walks in, closely followed by Mary.

My stomach twists, and my pulse instinctively starts racing when I see what she’s wearing. A red dress that clings to every curve, cinched in at the waist with a deep, black leather belt, and cut just low enough to reveal the swell of her breasts beneath a chunky black pendant. Her hair is down, long curls tumbling over her shoulders, and she’s wearing the kind of smoky makeup that makes her eyes look twice as large.

The dress shouldn’t work with that hair, but it does, and by the collective held breath, I’d guess that everyone else has noticed it does too.

Mary loiters in the doorway, her eyes roaming the room as if she’s looking for someone to rescue her when Erin’s elbow jabs me in the ribs a second time. “Go on then. Go claim your fiancée.”

My legs work of their own accord. They carry me across the kitchen until I find myself standing in front of Mary, who’s chewing her bottom lip and waiting for me to say something.

“You look…” My mouth is suddenly dry.

“I think stunning is the word you’re looking for,” Fianna whispers in my ear.

“Stunning,” I repeat, my tongue working on autopilot.

Mary’s face lights up with a smile. I mean, it literally lights up, changing her whole face, and man if her eyes haven’t gotten greener while she’s been getting ready. “Thank you.” She eyes me up and down, a tentative smile teasing one corner of her mouth. “You don’t look so bad yourself.”

I’m wearing a Fair Isle sweater and navy pants. I wouldn’t be seen dead in these clothes in New York, but somehow, less than twenty-four hours of being home and I’m like a peacock displaying his feathers in his natural habitat.

She leans closer and kisses me on the cheek. I breathe in her perfume—Fianna’sperfume—and my lips try to follow hers like they’re afraid she’ll slip away when my back is turned. I hope that she doesn’t notice, but I can tell by the way she slants her eyes, that she did.

But before I can explain myself, my mom comes over and drags Mary away. “I want to introduce you to everyone, Mary. God only knows when my son will bring you back again.”

I watch them walk away, and man, that ass. Since when did Mary Chrysler from IT have an ass like that, and how the fuck did I never notice it before?

Because Mary Chrysler never wanted to be noticed. I answer my own question. Sonia didn’t even recognize her last night, and Sonia knows everyone in the building.

“Are you happy, Emmett?”

The voice catches me by surprise. Fianna is standing beside me wearing a long floaty dress, her blond hair tumbling over her shoulders like a golden halo giving her the appearance of a water sprite or wood fairy. It has always been the thing I love most about my cousin—she knows who she is.

“Why do you ask?”

She furrows her brow at my response. “Because Mary is the only woman you’ve ever brought home to meet the family.” She sucks in her bottom lip.

There’s more to come. “And?”

“And … I want to know everything about your future wife. Where did you meet? Was it love at first sight? Why didn’t you warn Auntie Sinead that she was coming?”

I hear the questions, and I know that these are not the answers Fianna is looking for. She’s an O’Hara. She senses that something is off kilter even if she hasn’t quite figured out what.

“We met at a party.” She doesn’t take her eyes off Mary like an artist protecting her creation. “Does love at first sight even exist? I didn’t even know myself until last night that Mary would come with me.”

“Why?” She turns her attention to me, and her eyes remind me so much of Oisin that my chest aches. “Did you scare her off meeting us?”

I laugh then, the relief tentatively sloping back into my shoulders. Relax, Emmett. We haven’t been caught out yet. When the party guests leave, I’ll find some time alone with Mary, and we can coordinate our stories before the holidays really begin.

---