Page 7 of Scandalous Kingpin
“I would hardly call them our business associates,” I pointed out.
I glanced down the table to see three pairs of eyes on me. Dante tapped his Italian leather–clad loafers, looking at me like he knew exactly what soured my mood, while Emory and her brother, Basilio, sat beside him, their keen attention on me as well.
At that moment, Aisling breezed into the conference room. My already foul mood dampened, and it didn’t take a genius to work out why. Even now, a year and some months after learning she was my biological mother, I still felt betrayed by her.
She’d left me in hell.
Fucking. Left. Me.
Every fucked-up thing that happened from that day forward was because of her, and if I could do to her what had been done to the woman I believed to be my mother and get away with it, I fucking would.
I narrowed my eyes on her in distaste, the itch to snatch her by that slim neck and drag her into one of my dungeons and out of sight clawing at me.
The moment Aisling’s eyes fell on me, they softened. I fucking hated that they were the same shade as mine. I resented any similarities, and at this moment, I envied Wynter’s eye color. Unlike my blue, my sister’s were green, different from Aisling’s.
“Christian,” she greeted me, but when I remained quiet, she turned to the others. “Hello, everyone.”
Her face shone with affection and love as she looked at Papà. It would seem Aisling and Frank DiLustro would be a forever thing.Fuck.How could he forgive her? Her love for my papà was tangible, and yet she’d left him too. Handed him their newborn son before leaving us all behind.
I should give her a taste of the medicine we all endured under the late Mrs. DiLustro and see how she liked it.
“Don’t think about it, brother,” Dante hissed under his breath, sticking to Italian, probably because he read my murderous thoughts.
My eyes narrowed on him and my jaw tightened. “What’s the occasion for your visit during our business meeting, Aisling?” Iasked, ignoring Dante and instead addressing the woman who was desperately trying to be my mother, two decades too late.
She stopped next to my father, her shoulders tensing.
“Son, that’s not how you talk to your mother,” he warned.
“Giving birth to me doesn’t make her my mother,” I deadpanned, a clear warning lacing my voice. They both fucked up, but it was my brother and me who’d paid the price. While he was out there running his empire and Aisling was off coaching Wynter, Dante and I were left to be tortured by a madwoman.
A frustrated noise escaped Aisling and she turned on her heel, marching out of the room.
She’d barely stepped out of the room when my papà jumped on my ass. “You will apologize.”
“I will not.”
My brother and cousins groaned audibly, knowing full well when I decided on something, there was no changing my mind. And Aisling was one of those decisions. I’d rather let myself be dragged through gravel than talk to the woman who gave birth to me.
“Can I talk to my son in private?” Papà demanded, shooting the others a look that brooked no argument.
Basilio was first to stand up, probably eager to get back to his wife—my half sister. Wynter was raised by Aisling, but from what I gathered she was more interested in securing Olympic gold than loving her daughter. Emory followed, shooting me a worried look, and I gave her a terse nod, letting her know all was good.
My brother was the last to stand up but not before stopping by our papà. “Aisling needs to work out her problems with Priest on her own. You can’t keep playing mediator.”
“She’s fragile.” Dante and I scoffed. It was the way he chose to see her, but there was nothing fragile about Aisling Brennan—or was it Flemming? Whatever the fuck she wanted to callherself was not my problem, but I sure as shit wouldn’t think of her as a DiLustro. I didn’t need yet another thing binding us together. “I won’t tolerate you two ganging up on her.”
I shrugged. “I’d prefer it if we never saw her again.”
“We don’t gang up on her, Papà,” Dante chimed in. “We barely ever see her.”
Thank fuck.
Dante was a replica of our father. In a way, so was I, except for the blond hair and blue eyes. The three of us shared the proud DiLustro nose and we were all about the same height. Papà’s face had gained a lethal edge over the years, giving him a harsh look, and the same could be said about Dante.
“Give us a moment, Dante, will you? Let Papà berate me in peace.”
My brother exhaled but left without another word. If I asked him to stay, he would, but I knew with his recent reconciliation with Juliette, he hated being away from her. Besides, I didn’t need a sidekick.
