Page 11 of Cassio (Belles & Mobsters 3)

The reference made no sense to me. I’d have to look it up. Her cousin’s eyes came over to us and she threw her head and laughed.

“Seems you managed. And we are not trolls.”

Áine smoothed her little dress, glancing down at herself. “Let’s go join the party,” Áine announced. “More clubs should do Halloween in August.” I gave a pointed look to Nico and Luciano. “The best part,” she beamed. “The boys won’t be coming into this club.”

They shared a glance then grinned, trouble written all over their faces. I wondered if Callahan knew his niece and Áine were crashing my nightclub. Obviously the boys, I assumed she meant Margaret’s brothers, knew it. There would be no mistaking that they knew the nightclub, Temptation, belonged to me. It was the first nightclub I had ever purchased.

Áine glanced over her shoulder, our eyes connecting. “Thanks again, buddy!” She winked, then strode away into my club.

Buddy! Fuck no, I would not be her buddy.

“Hey,buddy,” Nico teased. The two disappeared from our view, and I was left with Nico’s smirking face. “Sounds like a dog’s name.”

“Fuck you, Nico,” I muttered. My eyes darted in the direction Áine had disappeared, and I had half a mind to go after her.

Luciano must have read the look on my face because he just shook his head and muttered, “You shouldn’t fuck with redheads. Trust me, I should know.”

I hadn’t met Grace, but from what little Luciano had shared, she was a redhead. He couldn’t stomach them anymore. He couldn’t stomachanywoman anymore.

“I’m guessing you know the woman?” Nico questioned, a knowing look in his eyes. “Though it doesn’t look like you left a lasting expression on her.”

Luciano snickered with amusement.

“Fuck you both. I’m gonna get you back for this one of these days.”

“Not likely,” Nico smirked.

The three of us headed into my office where the music could be heard, but it wasn’t as loud and the large glass wall gave us a view of the entire dance floor.

“Why in the fuck did we even come here?” Nico muttered, throwing himself onto a chair and lifting his legs onto the table. “Aren’t we a bit too old for this? And where the fuck is Luca?”

My line of sight was out the one way window watching the scene on the dance floor. And there was mylittlebrother, schmoozing on the dance floor, women buzzing around him like he was goddamn honey.

None of them mattered. Didn’t they realize both my brother and I were beyond repair? Maybe it was exactly what the women were looking for. Bad boys with fucked up pasts that they thought they could save.

I sought out the woman with the flaming hair. It didn’t take long to spot her. She was dancing with Margaret. They were laughing, the two acting like they were in their own world. Having the time of their lives.

Unlike Áine, Margaret’s hair was black as coal but they had similar color eyes, the striking colors of the Caribbean waters. Fuck, when Áine’s eyes connected with mine those ocean glimmers hit me straight in my chest. And I feltsomething.

For the first time, in a very long time, Ifeltsomething in my chest. Different from the responsibility for deaths and suffering my father caused. Different from the hunger for revenge. Except, I couldn’t quite pinpoint it.

My eyes roamed over Áine’s body, curved and soft in all the right places. Yet, also strong. The Wonder Woman costume was a good choice. It suited her. She had grown up, the traces of the kid I rescued gone. The young girl from all those years ago had become a strong, confident woman. It was evident in her every move, her every smile, her every look.

Something about her tugged at me, and it felt important that I followed through.

Why doesn’t she remember me at all?

We didn’t spend days together but a traumatic experience like that you didn’t just forget. She was old enough to remember it all. After all, kidnapping and going through an ordeal like that wasn’t something that was easily forgotten. That single event left an enduring impact on me.

It stayed with me. It drove me on the days when tearing down my father’s empire seemed to come at a great cost. To me, my brother, my friends.

The knowledge that there could be another little girl, like Áine Evans, waiting for us to right the wrongs my father had done. Just like we had with this girl nine years ago. A beaten and bruised little girl had survived and prevailed. It was the best incentive possible to continue our work.

My eyes locked on her form, her movements on the dance floor elegant and sensual. She moved with confidence, her smile wide and free. A glimpse of her skin between her boots and ridiculously short Wonder Woman costume was smooth and pale. Her cherry red hair attracted the attention of hungry men's eyes and jealousy stirred in me.

Jealousy.

The feeling I hadn’t felt since Luca and I were children; my brother barely a toddler and I barely old enough to understand how our mother died. The slithering, fickle feeling that I always hated when seeing others with their families. I had the urge to claw it out of my body. It made you hurt; it made you feel all the things you wished you had but didn’t.

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