Page 5 of Shattered Hearts

My identical twin. My other half.

Harper grins, her crystal blue eyes sparkling like she’s happy to see me…even though we haven’t spoken a word to each other in three years.

Her long golden waves waterfall from an elegant ponytail and flawless makeup accentuates her features. In a skin-tight Fendi dress and suede t-strap pumps, Harper makes me look like a poor relation.

Nothing new there.

“Ry…I’m glad you came.” Though her voice is a bit strained, her smile appears genuine.

She loops her arm through mine and drags me inside like we’re still best friends.

Inside, the place hasn’t changed one bit. Same gray-veined marble floor. Same indoor fountain. Same five-tier chandelier twinkling above us.

A well-trimmed, fifteen-foot Christmas tree and fresh garlands add notes of Douglas fir to the aroma of sizzling beef and old cigars.

Men in custom suits and women in sparkling cocktail dresses populate the main room. Multiple sets of eyes sear my skin as my sister tows me through the hall.

I don’t miss the irony. When I was a still in the Kings’ good graces, I was a near-invisible wallflower, beneath the notice of everyone important. Now, after years living outside the family, my presence garners the type of attention usually bestowed upon my twin.

I try not to focus on how others react to me, instead fastening my attention on my sister. Since entering this shark pit, I’ve barely heard a thing she’s said.

Harper’s the sociable, extroverted one. A bright, bubbly ball of sunshine and outgoingness.

Only two minutes separated us at birth. Yet personality-wise, we’re light years apart.

Harper slants a glance at me. Something flickers in her eyes before disappearing.

Appreciative looks track Harper through the room. Her fitted dress is the color of gingerbread, and every man in here wants a bite…as usual.

My nose wrinkles. Typical, hyper-masculine, macho, alpha assholes. They like their women sexy, obedient, and easily controlled. Like the woman sitting in the middle of a cluster of wives perched on chaise lounges in the parlor.

Marnie Brennan.

Our mom.

My chest aches as I take in the dazed smile and glassy eyes that tell me she’s already had too much wine. I doubt she’s even aware I’m here. Honestly, she hasn’t paid me much attention since I was a child. Not that I can blame her. My father is likea parasite, sucking the life out of her until all that remains is a pale shadow of her former self.

My stomach twists as I behold my tall, sturdy father. He’d be handsome if his eyes weren’t typically filled with cruelty. I flinch at the sight of the rings lining his massive, meaty fists.

Thomas Brennan rules over all the informants, foot soldiers, and enforcers with an iron fist.

The same way he used to rule over me.

He sits near the end of the mile-long dining table next to Donal. At the head of the table sits Shane Gallagher. He’s around the same age as my dad, and still attractive in a silver-fox way with a chiseled jawline and sharp, steely eyes.

Shane’s not the reason for the butterflies swarming my stomach though.

That honor belongs to his son.

My heart picks up speed as my gaze lands on the group of men congregating near the bar. All of them are gorgeous in their own way, but my attention races past Rory Gallagher, Darren Kelly, and Cian Mahoney in search of one particular man with dark auburn hair.

The last time I saw him was shortly after my world fell apart.

Not that he was in a good place back then either.

“You remember Finn.”

Harper’s casual words slap me across the face as the man in question halts his conversation to face us.

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