Page 89 of Broken Blood Ties

Taking the steps two at a time, I pause at the top, willing myself to move down the hall. I flex my fist when I pass Summer’s room and make it to Aoife’s.

I inch open the door and peer at my little love. All her tangled blonde strands streak across her face, and her tiny snores filter through the darkened silence. Pulling the door closed once again, I return to my bedroom, purposefully ignoring the door I know Summer is hidden behind.

Once the door to my room is closed and locked, I shuck off my loosened tie and step out of my suit. Today was a shite show. It was impulsive of me, but I relish the idea of Summer as my fiancée, even if it’s not real.

Let’s be honest. There’s no way after three months I’m going to be able to let her go. But, for the time being, I need her to think she has a choice.

The idea rolled through my mind while I was taking my anger out on the training room heavyweight bag, and I was so shocked at it, I missed my swing at the bag completely. It was perfect.

I knew Salvatore would want to take Summer back. Use her as if seven years hadn’t passed and arrange a marriage to some old cartel member. But as I thought of a way to help Summer, the need to keep her wouldn’t relent. So, I planned to tell Buscetta we were engaged. We’ll play the part. It benefits me because when the Yakuza gets wind of my engagement to the youngest Buscetta, they might think twice before taking over my city.

Yes, I’m using the Cosa Nostra, but it was the best solution at the moment. I didn’t bother telling Summer after I’d concocted the plan. The need to punish her seemed to tickle my fancy, and the sight of her face when I announced we were engaged to Salvatore almost made the lies she’d spun around who she was worth it.

I turn the shower on, letting the water warm up while I rattle off a text message to the crew on the yacht telling them to feed the cat, and one to Cormac letting him know I’ll be in early tomorrow.

The thought of waking up with Summer in my home has me stumbling into the shower and shifting the temperature to cold. Despite my blood boiling over the news she’s a Buscetta, I can’t say I blame her for running and hiding. I’ve been harsh with her, and perhaps that’s because I know she wants to leave this life. It pisses me off.

The chilled droplets of water skim down my back and I savor each electrifying jolt as they tense my muscles and shock away the remnants of my twisted desire.

Yes, Daddy. Bleeding hell. Those words flood my mind and heat my insides regardless of the icy sharp water cascading down around me. I should bend her over and spank her for such a remark.

Damn it, Kieran. Get her out of ye head.

I’m going to have to fight this weekend. Take out this pent-up rage on someone or else I’m going to end up storming into Summer’s room to see what other defiant words I can coax out of her mouth.

No. I turn off the shower, toweling dry and heading to the mirror above my sink. The slow realization drips off me in waves. She’s going to leave at the end of this. She wants to go. To be free.

I growl, flicking the condensation out of the way to stare at my hardened resolve. At this point, there’s nothing I won’t do to keep Summer Smith in my life. I’ve got three months to prove her wrong.

* * *

“Is Miss Summer up?” Aoife’s question halts me as I step into the kitchen. Her spoonful of Cheerios is halfway to her mouth, and I sigh. It’s too early for this. Although it doesn’t stop me from looking over my shoulder to check if she’s coming down the stairs.

“I’m sure she will be. Listen, little love. Summer will be staying with us for a while, okay? Is that all right with ye?”

Aoife’s doe-eyed expression widens farther, and those piercing blues lighten with her splitting grin. “Yes!” Her white Keds bounce in rhythm off the highest footrest of the island stool, and I smile at her in her freshly pressed school uniform.

Allie shuffles about the kitchen. She’s dressed in beige tapered slacks and a lavender button down. Half of her peacoat is on while the other half sweeps the floor as she cleans up from Aoife’s breakfast.

It’s 6:30 a.m. so I can’t imagine she’s running late.

Allie pauses, eyeing my outfit.

“What?” I ask.

She shakes her head. “A suit two days in a row.”

I don’t bother waiting for more to come after that. I don’t wear them often, but I’ll be taking Summer shopping after work today, and something about chauffeuring her around in a suit makes me smirk.

“I’ll be home later tonight, Aoife.” I slide an arm around her while she allows her spoon to plunk into her plastic mermaid bowl with aplop.

Offering her a kiss to the temple and dropping the velvet box on the counter, I round up my coat. Then I’m out the door, unable to summon the courage to look back to see if Summer made it down after all.

Of course, it takes triple the time to get to the restaurants this morning. I stop atEmeraldTablefirst, one of the high-end restaurants in my portfolio. Because it’s a higher profile location, I don’t conduct any mob business from there, but I still like to check in with the staff on a routine schedule.

The dishes here are a mashup of Irish comfort food with haute cuisine. And because of the elaborate food with luxurious ingredients, Aoife doesn’t enjoy it here. I wonder if Summer would.

I move on quickly, finally making it to O’Brien’s before 8:00 a.m. Callahan, my overnight security, stands outside my office door.

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