Page 20 of Of Grief And Gratitude

“So,” Sloane started as we stood in line, waiting for our coffee orders. “You going to tell me what happened last night?”

I shook my head. “Nope.”

“If you keep refusing to spill, I’m going to assume the dude hurt you somehow, and I’ll be paying him a visit.” She threatened. “Apparently, he isn’t into blades.”

“That’s because he carries a gun.” I noticed the slight bulge under his jacket and caught him slipping the weapon into a drawer by the front door.

Sloane smirked. “I doubt he carries the gun while he sleeps.”

“You are not going over there,” I said firmly. The last thing I needed was Sloane starting another war between the families over my honor.

“Come on, mom, you never let me have any fun.” She faked a pout and grabbed our coffees when the barista placed the cups on the counter. “Do you want to sit or head home?”

“I think it would be safer to get out of here and avoid any chance run-ins with the media.” I shuddered at the memory of the reporters’ overwhelming fact-finding tactics. “Maybe I should have gotten two cups of coffee.”

I added cream and enough sugar to give me cavities before we headed back to the apartment, greedily sipping from my cup while trying not to scald my tastebuds off.

“Riona O’Neill!” I heard my name when we were halfway home and froze, wondering if I could escape the reporters. A large man was coming toward us, holding his phone out like he was recording.

I spun around, thankful for the lid on my coffee, as a drop sloshed onto the ground. I pulled at Sloane’s elbow, but she didn’t budge.

“Ri,” she laughed, spinning me around to face the imposing paparazzi.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

That’s when I saw what she’d noticed before me. The tall man was her brother Sean, and he bent over, hands braced on his knees as he laughed.

He sucked in air and straightened. “You should have seen your face. Your eyes were as big as saucers! Priceless.”

“Fuck you, asshole,” I hissed, punching Sean in the arm as hard as my muscles would allow.

“Ow! Hey!” He rubbed his arm. “It was just a joke. Don’t be so touchy.”

I balled my fist in front of his face. “I’ll show you touchy.”

“Fine, fine!” Sean held his hands up in surrender. “I won’t do it again.”

“Do you ever actually apologize?” I asked, noting his lack of remorse.

“Of course.” He tugged my hips against his and chucked my chin with his knuckles. “But I prefer to do it up close and personal.”

I shoved him back and shook my head at his antics. “That must be awkward during business deals.”

Sloane snickered. “I’ll make sure we test it out next time we have to meet with one of the Neretti boys. Preferably Romeo.”

Sean’s face darkened at the mention of him. “Did something happen other than him claiming you in front of the entire world? Not that his actions there don’t warrant some repercussions. I’d happily arrange a little accident to teach him a lesson.”

“No, everything is fine,” I insisted. “I’m sure the media will get bored soon enough. I just need to stay out of the spotlight until then.”

“Speaking of.” Sean shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “I’ve been sent to see you safely to my father’s house. He’d like a word with you about this whole situation.”

“Is he aware that I can be reached on my phone?” I asked drolly. “Not everything needs to be done in person. In fact, many companies are doing away with unnecessary meetings and replacing them with relevant emails.”

“Somehow, I don’t think my father is going to write business things down in a traceable email,” Sloane said sarcastically. “Mind if I tag along?”

“Go ahead. Maybe you can make us lunch when we get there.” He turned and strode back down the block, calling over his shoulder, “Come on, I’m parked up here.”

Sloane hurried after him. “You can make your own fucking sandwich, you leech.”

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