Page 6 of Forbidden Romeo

“Aye,” Kate concedes before fixing him with a fiery glare. “But your family still sold us out to the British, and that still makes you a Maguire to me.”

“Still yapping about the famine, are we? God, you do sound like Padraic,” Lars whines.

“I’m sure my uncle would love to hear you’ve decided it’s not worth ‘yapping’ about.”

Lars has the decency to look a little nervous before glancing at me. “Ferocious one, isn’t she? Maybe Padraic will do us a favor and name her instead.”

The knife is at Lars’ throat before I have time to react. I don’t want to know where Kate was hiding it, but she’s suddenly pulling him in close as if they’re locked in an embrace.

“I’d prefer it if you didn’t talk about me like I’m not here,” she whispers sweetly in his ear. “Everyone’s a little on edge today, and I wouldhateit if something happened to you.”

“Bitch!”

“Shush now. Or they won’t let your family hold an open casket by the time I’m finished,” she purrs as she drags a nail across Lars’ cheek for emphasis.

I glance around us—several people have noticed our little altercation, and it’s only a matter of time before someone reports to Padraic. That’s the last thing I need today.

“Kate,” I say sharply in warning.

To her credit, Kate suddenly releases Lars from her grasp. He scuttles backward a few steps, clearly furious.

Just as he goes to open his slimy little mouth again, a rage comes over me like I’ve never felt before. Suddenly it’s like I’m back in the ring, everything around me fades into the background, and my only focus is the target in front of me.

“I hope your next words are an apology, O’Neil. Or else it won’t be Padriac who comes after you. It will be me,” I say quietly, staring the man down.

Lars seems to finally acknowledge he’s walked into the wrong fight. The color drains from his face as he stares at me, breath coming out in short puffs. Fight or flight.

He takes a step back, then another.

“You didn’t need to do that, Jack,” Kate says as we stand there watching Lars make his feeble retreat.

I cast a side glance at the cold expression on her face, and my chest begins to ache—it reminds me so much of Graham at his own mother’s funeral.

It’s my fault.

“I couldn’t let you tear him apart. We’re supposed to be a united front, remember?”

That, at least, earns me a small smile. She turns to me. “Padraic wants to see you.”

“Right now?”

She nods without looking me in the eye, and I frown. Lars was right about one thing—we’re the only ones left with any claim to the Duffy empire. If Padraic wants to meet with me this close to the funeral… my mind jumps into overdrive.

“I’m sure it’s nothing,” Kate says stiffly. She’s always been vocal about her desires; becoming heir was never one of them. That said, Padraic dotes on her more than anyone I know.

“And if it’s something?” I say cautiously.

Finally, Kate looks up and holds my gaze. Her brown eyes bore into mine—the same eyes I’ve seen every day since we were children. For the first time, I realize I don’t know where I stand with her anymore. I can’t remember a time when Kate and I haven’t been at each other’s throats (literally on more than one occasion). Still, Graham was always the mediator when it came to the three of us. Without him, we’re just two people that know too much about each other, yet somehow not enough to be considered friends.

“There are worse things, I suppose,” Kate says finally.

I bow my head slightly. Whatever the outcome of this mess, Kate’s blessing is invaluable.

“Just don’t let it go to your head,” she says before turning away.

***

“Padraic,” I say in greeting as I enter my father’s office. He has numerous rooms just like it across the city, all laid out in the same regal way as his home office. I’m not sure he’s changed a thing since he inherited them from his father, nor he since he inherited them from his.

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