Page 13 of Scandalous Kingpin
“Like I was ever in any danger over there,” I said, stepping between them, knowing it was my oldest brother who called the shots. “I would even be willing to accept a bodyguard.”
I fluttered my eyelashes innocently while Aemon gave me a half smile, bringing a glass of whiskey to his lips.
“You mean you’ll accept a bodyguard only to lose him the second you touch down in New York.”
“She’d never do that,” Juliette chimed in.
“Besides, Ivy’s always been the responsible one,” Wynter added, lying shamelessly. We all knew Davina took the cake on that one.
My brothers let out a collective sardonic breath. “I’m sure she is.”
“Come on,” I whined, pouting. I’d learned how to work my brothers over the years. It was a necessity for surviving life in this family; otherwise, they’d smother you with their overbearing ways. “That’s all I want for my birthday. I won’t stay as long as I did last time.”
My brothers gazed behind me at the same time, and I turned to see a man I didn’t recognize—gray suit, short hair, a glint of ruthlessness in his eyes.
“Who’s he?” I asked.
“None of your business,” Aemon responded, his eyes locked on the man as he approached. He pulled me against his chest in a hug. “Happy birthday. Stay at the party.”
“Sure.” He palmed my face playfully, then he and Bren disappeared.
Juliette bumped shoulders with me as she followed their winding path through the sea of people—most of whom I’d only ever met once. “Isn’t that Aiden Callahan?”
Aiden Callahan was brother-in-law to Luca King DiMauro, often assisting with the Omertà. He also ran the Callahan Irish mafia.
“He looks like a walking red flag,” Wynter muttered and she wasn’t wrong. The man had a reputation and was a walking red flag if I’d ever seen one.
I shrugged. “Not my kind of red flag,” I answered, uninterested. My heart jolted for one man and one man only lately, and I hadn’t seen him in six months. “Speaking of, where are your husbands?”
I couldn’t outright ask where the arrogant mafia prince was. He wasn’t interested; fine. Neither was I.
Wynter flicked a glance over her shoulder, and I followed her gaze to the VIP section where Liam Brennan, Davina’s husband, sat alongside all three DiLustro men. My heart hitched, stopping my breath, and I couldn’t keep my gaze away from him.
He looked up and I gasped, holding his gaze as he sat like a king waiting to be serviced.
“Whenever I see a man”—one blond man with blue eyes, to be specific—“who might as well be a bold red danger sign, I just paint my nails to match.”
In truth, I’d thought about him too many times late at night—the rough glide of his palm against my cheek, the press of his lips against mine, the heat of his body.
“You know there’s a term for that,” Juliette deadpanned as strobe lights flashed red, purple, and yellow across her stunning face.
“Yeah, a ‘fix-a-ho,’” Davina chimed in. “Meaning, you find a bad boy and try to fix him.”
“A fix-a… what?” I repeated softly, wondering if there was a way to fix him. I didn’t think so, which left only one other alternative: accept him as he was. But then we were back at the beginning—at the fucker notwantingme. A thorny, painful feeling ripped through me. The one I pushed somewhere deep down every time I thought of him: rejection.
“Let’s dance,” I announced. “Itismy birthday, isn’t it?”
Not long after, I was lost in the bottom of shot glasses, bathroom trips, and a heady, uninhibited rush in my blood. The club was crowded with pulsing bodies moving together, sweat dripping down our backs. My friends laughed as their husbands joined them, and I threw my head back, luxuriating in the bizarre energy that came with turning another year older. I danced like my life depended on it, Priest’s burning gaze watching my every move. The lights cast a glow against my bare arms and sage-green dress.
I lifted my heavy red strands off my shoulders and looked up. Priest’s gaze was still on me, dark and vehement.
Holding it, I rolled my hips slowly. Seductive.
A few men started dancing around me, taking advantage that I was the only one dancing alone in our group. Holding his stare, I pressed up to one of them, hands on his chest. Rotating my hips, I thrust my chest out and raised my arms. The blood in my veins heated, my nipples tightening.
His eyes darkened and I smiled, lifted a hand, and blew him a sweet kiss.
Take that, I thought smugly.You’re not the only fish in the sea.
