Page 30 of Cassio (Belles & Mobsters 3)

“How are you?” Jack switched subjects, his tone softening. For some reason, he treated me like I was too fragile and needed protection. I was way past that stage. I was capable of killing, just as easily as he was.

“I’m good,” I told him. “Vegas has been fun so far.”

If he knew fun equated to successful missions and killing men, he’d have a cow. But no need to stress the elders.

“Good, but don’t make it too much fun,” he joked.

“Are you and Mom having your dinner date tonight?” I asked. The two of them made dinner date nights regularly. It was just their time. I questioned them once before and Mom told me it was Jack that insisted on it because they missed so many dates in their life.

“Yes, we are,” he replied. “I’d offer to bring you a dessert home, but it’d spoil by the time we see you.” I chuckled. “Will you come see us next week?”

Jack disliked the fact that I had my own apartment. He was against me moving out, listing every single reason under the sun. Even potential snow blizzards and being stranded in that apartment building. “It has been a few weeks and we miss you.”

People talk about step parents like they were spawns of evil, but for me, it proved to be the opposite. Jack had been like a real father, no worse or better than my own dad. I loved them both, and they were the most important men in my life. I lost my dad, but I didn’t forget him. And Jack often listened to me reminiscing about him when we first lost him.

“Yes, I’ll come next week,” I promised him. “Maybe we can have dinner and watch a movie?”

“I will make a plan and pick a movie,” he agreed eagerly. We had weekly dinner and movie plans when we first moved in with him. We kept the tradition until I moved out. Occasionally, we still made plans for it, but it was no longer a weekly activity.

“Perfect,” I answered. “I have to go and get ready. Pick a day and let me know. I’ll try to make sure I can fit it into my schedule.”

“Your mom will be happy,” he beamed. “Talk to you later. Keep Margaret in check. Love you.”

“Love you too,” I answered, ignoring his comment on keeping Margaret in check. If Margaret decided on something, there was nobody on this planet that would hold her back. “Bye, Jack.”

I hung up and met Margaret’s gaze on me. “Let me guess,” she deadpanned. “He is complaining about me spending money.”

I rolled my eyes. “When did you have time to gamble?” I asked her instead of confirming her comment.

She chuckled. “It only took me thirty minutes,” she crackled. Wow, I had never spent ten grand in thirty minutes, not to mention a hundred grand. She twirled around. “How do I look?”

Thankfully for the change of subject, I jumped on it. “Like hotness on two legs,” I told her.

“Perfect,” she beamed. “Let’s go.” She looked gorgeous and sexy, in her short red dress and black heels. Her dark hair made the color of her dress even more vibrant. Red was definitely Margaret’s color.

Her hair was coal black and her eyes were the same shade as mine. Despite my hair, people often confused us for sisters. We’d laugh and shrug them off. She was the closest thing to a sister I’d ever had. The moment my mother married my stepdad, our family suddenly became extremely large. I had uncles and so many cousins… and best of all Margaret and her brothers. They never made me feel like their step-cousin, and I was grateful for the warm way they welcomed both my mother and myself.

We exited our room and headed down the hallway. Only the two of us got a room on the top floor. The rest of the party had their rooms a few floors down. Some kind of mix up, and they made it up to Margaret and me by giving us the penthouse suite.

We started walking down the hallway, in the direction of the elevators, our heels clicking against the marble floor.

“These shoes are so impractical,” I complained. It was little after seven in the evening. Knowing Margaret, we’d be partying all night and my feet would be killing me. “My feet are still killing me from last night.”

She laughed out loud. We lost our shoes somewhere during our adventure last night, trying to save those women.

“Fuck practical, Áine,” she cursed, giggling loudly. “We’ll party like it’s our last night alive. We deserve it after last night.”

“Shhh.” I bumped my shoulder against her, to remind her to keep her voice down. “Honestly, practical and comfortable is so much more enjoyable than hotter,” I objected with a smile at her enthusiasm to party. It was a Chippendale night.

“You can’t look smoking hot being practical or comfortable,” she continued explaining, completely ignoring me. “I can’t wait to see men shaking their booty in my face. I hear they are super-hot.”

I cringed at the image of a man shaking his booty in my face. I’d break his goddamn legs if he attempted. I will politely reject him and find a corner away from them all.

“I wasn’t going for a smoking hot look,” I told her. “More like surviving all night. We were smoking hot last night. We should alternate, you know.”

A soft noise behind me had me turning when Margaret’s words stopped me, the noise forgotten. “We are taking the elevator.”

Ugh, here we go again. I hated the elevators. I couldn’t even remember the last time I was in one.Push me out of a plane, let’s go bungee jumping, anything… just don’t put me in an elevator.

---