Page 12 of Cassio (Belles & Mobsters 3)

“Are you just going to stare at her?” Nico questioned. I flipped him a bird.Taunting fucking asshole!“Go ask her for a dance,” he suggested.

“I don’t need any encouragement,” I snapped, agitated. It was exactly what I wanted to do, except I wasn’t sure if it was something Ishoulddo. After all, it was my own father that kidnapped her nine years ago. It was our family’s legacy, our family’s greed that started a chain of events that had landed her in that dirty cell in the middle of nowhere. Where screams and pain were a normal, everyday occurrence.

Luca and I went back afterwards. We leveled the compound to the ground after we freed other women and interrogated the men. Okay, maybe a more adequate term would be tortured. Either way, not a single soldier survived to tell the tale.Except for the boy.The state we found women in made me scared to even imagine what the kid went through. Some fucked up shit happened in that hellhole.

My eyes focused on her dancing form, moving on the dance floor with her dark-haired cousin. The Irish and my father had been at war for as long as I could remember. But over the past nine years, the war escalated. My father couldn’t have even fathomed what he started when he kidnapped Áine Evans back then.

But after all this time, I had finally decided it was time I collected my debt.

ChapterTwo

ÁINE

This man was beautiful; like Adonis but on a badass level.

Time seemed to grind to a halt and my gaze was frozen on a set of cold, dark eyes, framed with the thickest lashes I had ever seen. The sizzling power that surged through him, ran intense and undefinable; the darkness and brutality in those dark eyes shaking something inside me.

A memory.

A distant and vague memory that I couldn’t quite hone in on. It lurked in the shadows of my mind that only haunted me in my dreams. An odd thumping began in my chest, in sync with my head. Yet, the usual repulsion at man’s nearness never came, which was intriguing.

His dark eyes watched me, like he was waiting for something. As if we knew each other from a very long time ago. I took in his face and strong jawline with chiseled cheekbones. He seemed…familiar. Very familiar. A foggy image flashed in my mind, an extended hand, and I furrowed my eyebrows.

Tattooed hands.My eyes lowered to his hands. Nothing on his right hand, but there was ink on his left hand. A rose, just petals.

And then the memory was gone, disintegrating into nothing, much to my frustration. I focused my mind in search of the memory. It was important, I knew it. Yet, nothing came. I shook my head in a light frustration and met his gaze.Who is he?

My temples throbbed as I stared at those intense dark eyes. It felt like drowning in the dark, threatening waters with no way of coming up for air. His face was memorable. If I saw him before, there would be no chance I’d ever forget it. He studied me as I watched his soulful brown eyes. Like he knew something I didn’t. It intrigued me, pulling me into a fog.

Everything faded as I watched him. Yes, there was something familiar about him that I couldn’t place. I’d stake my life that I’d met this man a long time ago. I searched my memory, the puzzle nagging at me. It felt important that I remember. But the harder I tried to recall the memory, the worse the throbbing in my head became. I didn’t realize my fingers were pressing against my temples until Margaret’s voice pierced through my brain.

“Áine!” Margaret’s voice interrupted my staring and his lips curved into a lazy smile. “Jesus, I thought they got you!”

I glanced at Margaret and shook my head in response.

“And we have your name,” the guy covered in tattoos murmured with satisfaction.

His deep voice sent shivers down my spine. It was most uncharacteristic for my body to react positively to any man, yet this one… God, this enigmatic one made me react in a shockingly visceral way. I could practically taste the air sizzling and feel my skin heating. It was as thrilling as it was terrifying. I never, likeever, felt desire for anyone.

His lips curved into a knowing small smile and annoyance flashed within me at his victorious smirk. Whatever! I wouldn’t let him ruin my evening. Besides, I’d be smirking last if Jack Callahan, my stepfather found his way in here. Then this guy probably wouldn’t come near me with a ten foot pole. Men were either repulsed by my connection to the head of the Irish mafia in New York or intrigued. There was no in-between. Nobody remained unfazed by it.

I left the dark Adonis with my hand in Margaret’s to grab some alcohol. For the first time in my life, I fought the urge to rip a man’s clothes off and have sweaty, rough sex.

I haven’t even started drinking.Even more disturbing, Ineverwanted to have sex. Never have had sex. It usually brought out the most unflattering panic attacks, cold sweats and an instant, painfully racing heart.

With a small shake to my head, we strode away. Yet each step away from him caused a deep tug in my stomach. It was pulling me back in the stranger’s direction. It made no sense at all. Yes, he was an unusually attractive man. It would be impossible for any woman not to feel some fluttering in her stomach - or heart - gazing upon that fine specimen. But unlike other women, one touch by him, and I was certain the panic attack would make its annoying appearance. Despite this strong pull, knowing the panic attacks I get when touched, I ignored it.

I’ll probably die a virgin,I thought with a heavy sigh.

“You are the worst accomplice,” I told her, rolling my eyes. Maybe I was slightly cranky because of this clawing need for the stranger. “And the worst party accomplice. You never leave anyone behind. Don’t you know the saying,‘no troll left behind’.”

Margaret chuckled unperturbed. We both knew she always had my back, and I always had hers. We were as close as sisters and trusted each other explicitly.

“Seems you managed,” she scoffed, her eyes traveling behind us. “And we are not trolls.”

Incorrigible. Margaret was just incorrigible.

“Let’s go enjoy the party,” I told her with a last glimpse over my shoulder. Just one last look at such a gorgeous specimen. He still stood in the same spot, his eyes on me. And there went my heart again, fluttering like a butterfly caught in a bottle trying to get free. Turning back to Margaret, I added in a teasing tone, “More clubs should do Halloween in August. The best part. The boys won’t be coming into this club.”

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