Page 15 of A Dark Mafia Christmas

“I-I said I wanted something simple.”

She eyes up the ring like the diamond is flashing the truth at her in Morse Code. “Granny Mary’s ring is a bit of an acquired taste. I’m glad I won’t have to wear it.” She smiles, and it’s so genuine, that the guilt adds another stab to my heart for good measure. “I never thought Uncle Emmett would get married, but I’m glad you’re here, Mary.”

You won’t be, I think.

We all pileinto giant-wheeled 4x4 vehicles and form a procession to choose the Christmas tree that will take pride of place in the family living room. Fianna comes with us, riding in the back with me and Emmett while Dave follows Patrick’s car to the tree farm.

The engagement ring conversation has left me feeling a little uneasy. Perhaps Emmett hasn’t given his family enough credit; I think they understand him way better than he believes theydo, and they’re not going to be easily fooled. It’s Christmas! He’s just gotten engaged to be married. We should be screwing like rabbits not eying each other up from opposite sides of the room.

I lean across him and peer out of the window. “Where are we now?” He flinches, and I feel like hissing in his ear, “Act, you fucker. This was your idea.”

He points out the tiny village of Laragh as we pass through. “Our closest village. There’s still a way to go.”

Asshole. He wants me to sit back and leave him alone, but he doesn’t get to make all the rules. Who does he think he is?

I rest my head on his shoulder, entwine my fingers with his, and yawn exaggeratedly. It has the desired effect. He can’t push me away without Fianna noticing, and he can’t go anywhere because he’s trapped in the back of the car with us.

Deep breath. He smells so goddamned good.

I check out his profile, the set of his clenched jaw, the lips pressed together, eyes fixated on the window, and anger blooms inside me. I move my lips to his ear, and whisper, “You smell good.”

He swallows hard. I can almost hear the debate being carried out inside his head. Ignore me or respond the way a lover would?

Finally, when I think he’s going with option one, he turns to me and plants a kiss on the tip of my nose. “So do you.”

Is that it? Is that the best he can do?

I nuzzle his neck and this time, when I whisper, I allow my lips to graze his earlobe. “Later, after we’ve decorated the tree, can you show me around the house?”

He shoots a look at Fianna who is staring out the passenger window on the opposite side of the car. “Later.”

I’m going to hold him to that.

Choosing a tree is way more difficult than it looks in the movies. Sinead wants one with full branches; the men want the tallest one they can fit inside the house; while the twins don’t care what tree we get because they’re too busy trying to wrap themselves up in green webbing.

Finally, they settle on a ten-foot tall Nordman fir, which gets wrapped and strapped onto the roof of Patrick’s vehicle. The mood in the car on the way back is different, more electrified, the prospect of the tree’s arrival making even Emmett more vocal. He and Fianna talk about Christmases from when they were younger, telling stories of their dads getting drunk on Christmas Eve and eating the sherry trifle, and Ciaran pulling the tree on top of him one year, and smashing half the baubles.

Back at the house, the men carry the tree inside and set it up while the women start unpacking last year’s decorations from cardboard boxes. It puts the tiny fake tree in the living room of my apartment to shame. But I’m so absorbed with hanging sparkling snowflakes and icicles and angel’s hair from the branches, that I almost forget the reason why I’m here.

Almost.

Until Sinead mentions the food for the party. “Mary, you can stick the angel on the top this year. I need to start preparing the food or our guests will be arriving, and I’ll still be in my apron, elbow-deep in flour.”

“Can I help?”

“You’re our guest of honor. Fianna can show you to your room and sort out something for you to wear.”

“I can’t believe you still throw a party every year.” Emmett hasn’t been anywhere near the tree, still maintaining the aloof boss façade, even in front of his own family.

“It’s tradition. It wouldn’t be the same if we didn’t throw a big bash.” Sinead winks at me as she hands me the frothy white angel with translucent wings. “Besides, we have something to celebrate tonight.”

I stand beside Emmett and kiss him on the lips. “Smile,” I whisper so that no one else can hear.

My guest roomis next to Fianna’s. I’ve never seen a home with so many guest rooms. My room is larger than my entire apartment in New York, with a bed that would sleep four people comfortably. It’s one of those high bouncy beds with an emerald-green comforter, and fairy lights strung around the metal headboard. I can’t resist flopping back onto it like Kevin McAllister inHome Alone, a goofy grin on my face.

Fianna’s room is equally as large as mine with a red comforter, a giant Christmas teddy on the bed, and tinsel woven around the headboard.

“How big is the big guest room?” I muse out loud.

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