Page 95 of Her Dark Salvation

Eric the bartender spotted us above the crowd in front of the bar. Siobhán flashed a ruby-red-manicured peace sign, and he lifted his chin and winked.

“Can’t beat the service,” I shouted over the music.

She smiled mischievously. “Now you know why I come here.”

Eric raised two martini glasses filled with a hazy, clear liquid and garnished with fat olives. I licked my lips. Siobhán wedged her way through the crowd and reached between heads to grab our drinks. She handed one to me, and I almost groaned with my first sip of dirty martini. Salty, smooth, top-shelf perfection.

She led us to the back of the bar near the roped-off winding staircase. A bar top protruded from the wall in the tucked away corner where the speakers faced away from us and gave us a reprieve from the heavy bass.

Siobhán swigged her martini and set it on the counter. “Talk to me. What’s going on with Marco? That’s an all-men-can-fuck-right-off outfit if I’ve ever seen one.”

I rolled my eyes. “I wanted to look fabulous, that’s all.”

“Mission accomplished,” she said dryly.

“As for Marco? He’s just being Marco, I suppose.”

“Lemme guess—over-protective, over-bearing, and unreasonable?” She raised an eyebrow and bent her mouth in a look that said, “I told you so.”

I avoided her eyes and sipped my drink.

“Well, the damage is done. But…” She sighed. “It’s cause he’s into you, Anna. Really into you. And…” She looked askance, as if weighing her words.

“And what?”

“And men like Marco don’t do dating lightly.”

I snorted. “Understatement. I don’t think he does anything lightly.”

She tipped her martini glass toward me before taking another sip.

“He doesn’t…” Siobhán knew about Marco and Luca’s Mafia connections. That much was clear. But the existence of blood demons? Doubtful. “He doesn’t want to pursue a long-term relationship.”

“Did he say that?”

“Not in so many words, but he thinks his life is too dangerous for me.”

“Uh…” Siobhán looked around as if she was missing something. “Isn’t that up to you to decide?”

I threw my arms in the air. “Thank you!”

“Made men. They’re all the same. They think because they run their little empires, they get to run our lives, too.” She scoffed and slammed back half of her drink.

“How do you know so much about this?”

“Let’s just say I wasn’t always the refined businesswoman you see standing in front of you. Luca may be an asshole, but he’s right about one thing. There’s a lot of truth and history wrapped up in this accent.” She let her guard down with that last statement, and the harsh vowels of Southie emerged from beneath their polished, vaguely British veneer.

She hid it well, but Siobhán had the hard accent that came along with a hard upbringing in a hard neighborhood. Knowing the tension between the Italians and the Irish, I wondered how much that had played a role in Luca and Siobhán’s volatile relationship.

“Was that the problem with you and Luca?”

“Him being over-protective and wanting to run my life?” She scoffed. “No. It was never like that with us,” she said, and a sad smile took over her face.

She stared into her drink for a moment before pulling one of the olives off the toothpick with her teeth, careful not to mar her bright red lipstick.

“I thought he was someone different. He thought the same about me. I flew off the handle. So did he.” She shrugged. “And now we have a completely dysfunctional relationship.” She lifted her glass in a mock toast before taking a hefty swig.

I took another drink myself, and the vodka burned as it trailed down my throat and settled in my stomach. The martini was going down way too fast and way too easy.

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