Page 39 of A Dark Mafia Christmas

“Emmett.” Fianna flashes a warning look my way before turning around and smiling up at him.

The guy bends down and kisses Fianna’s cheek, and I can’t prevent the growl rumbling deep inside me like a dog sensing danger.

“Merry Christmas, all.” Ronan’s gaze drifts around the table and settles on Mary. The bastard does it deliberately. “How are you enjoying your first Irish Christmas?”

“It’s been the best.” Mary smiles with genuine affection at my parents. “I’m still waiting for someone to pinch me.”

Unprompted, Ronan leans across the table and pinches the flesh on the back of her hand, and I want to punch him right here, right now. “Aye. You’re still here.”

Erin and Sean exchange glances, and I get the feeling that they don’t like the thought of this guy with their daughter either. Who can blame them after what he did to Oisin? What does she even see in him? All I see is a bully with pumped-up biceps and an ego to match, but I understand my dad’s need to keep the peace.

He asks if anyone wants a drink, goes to the bar, and comes back carrying a tray of glasses, which he sets down on the table before squeezing next to Fianna on the end of the bench opposite Mary and me. It’s as if a rain cloud is hovering above our heads. The easy banter between family members has been replaced by stilted conversation and periods of silence, something that hasn’t occurred since we arrived.

But what unsettles me the most is that whenever I look at Ronan, I catch him staring at Mary.

Later, Mary goes to the restroom, and I watch her pass the group of men standing at the bar drinking stout with whiskey chasers. They’re loud, their voices booming around the pub and drowning out the music playing from the jukebox and the growing hum of conversation.

Keep on walking, Mary, I think to myself.

But she must catch a glimpse of a thick neck in a black turtleneck sweater and hear a voice that sounds familiar because she freezes.

Declan.

Then, right on cue, he turns his head, raising a glass to his lips, and I see it in her face that she knows where she has seen him before. She watched him throw a man over the edge of the roof during the office party. She witnessed a murder and then gotdragged into a situation that was entirely out of her control, it’s unlikely she will ever forget his face.

Fortunately for Mary, she doesn’t know the guys he’s drinking with. The other dons.

They’re the reason I brought her here. No one would’ve believed the fake proposal if I spent my first Christmas as an engaged man without my fiancée. But I never thought we’d come face-to-face with them.

But the question is: what will Mary do about Declan?

Perhaps I should’ve warned her. I’ve had ample opportunities to tell her that he would be nearby while we’re out and about, and that it would work in our favor if the families saw us together. But the situation is precarious enough without lighting a flame beneath her anxiety with a flippant comment like, “Hey, you know the thug on the roof? Yeah, we’ll probably see him down at the local pub.”

After what feels like hours, she keeps walking, and I release a breath I didn’t realize that I was holding.

Declan’s gaze roams the seating area. His eyes settle on me, and he raises his pint in a toast. All good. He settled my business on the roof. Which means that we have the green light to fake an argument and go our separate ways once we’re back in New York.

Only, I’m not entirely certain that’s what I want.

Mary might not know it, but I’ve spent every waking moment since I came home with her face center stage in my mind. Capturing her on canvas was nowhere near as difficult as I’d expected it to be because I was able to study her while she slepton the flight here. She’d probably freak out if she knew that, but man she’s easy on the eye.

Ronan’s cell phone rings and he stands, murmuring at the table in general that he’ll take the call outside. I watch him leave, Fianna’s eyes on me.

Something is making me feel uneasy. I can’t even follow the conversation at the table while Mary is out of sight.

Fianna nudges my knee with hers. “I never thought I’d see you so lost without a woman by your side.” She gives me a sly smile and sips her wine.

A comeback is on the tip of my tongue, but Ronan comes back into the pub with a whoosh of cold air from outside. Instead of coming back to the table, he heads towards the restrooms.

I wait. Maybe I’m being paranoid because I don’t trust the guy, but Mary isn’t back yet, and he has gone out of his way to antagonize me since the party.

Thirty seconds pass by, and I can’t believe Mary has turned me into the kind of guy who hangs on every moment that his woman is away from him, but I know that my gut’s right when I see Declan, the guy from the roof, set his pint down and head towards the restrooms. They’re not throwing a private party out there, so it can only mean one thing: he senses trouble brewing too.

I stand abruptly, knocking the table with my thighs and spilling drinks over the sides of glasses.

“Emmett?” Fianna’s eyes are wide. “Where are you going?”

“I’ll be back in a moment.”

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