Page 33 of Of Grief And Gratitude

“You won’t think that when you get to know my brothers better.”

“I don’t intend to get to know them any better. I’m already more familiar with your family than I’d like.” She glanced down at her menu. “If I ask you what’s good here, can you answer without resorting to sexual innuendo?”

“Of course.” I pointed out a few options. “Burrata and salad if you want something light. Minestrone if you’re cold from the rain. Lasagna if you want your belly full until tomorrow.”

She silently contemplated the options until the server appeared, setting house bread on the table. She poised a pen over a notepad to take our order, and Riona surprised me by ordering the lasagna. I ordered the same and took a piece of bread from the basket, spreading butter liberally across the surface.

Riona shook a little salt over her slice of buttered bread and took small bites. “Aren’t you going to look at the notebook?”

“Not here,” I answered, popping the last of the piece of bread in my mouth and moving the notebook to the side before taking another slice of bread.

“You’re supposed to be taking this all more seriously,” she protested. “You need to read everything in there. Right now, you draw the wrong attention when you go out in public. If you follow those rules, nobody can accuse you of being anything less than a gentleman.”

“I’m no gentleman.”

“Pretend, then,” she fired back. “You’re used to putting up a front. Do it with your manners.”

“You’re one to talk, tiger.” I curled my fingers into claws and pretended to paw the air. She was getting to me with her good-girl act. I’d seen enough to know that she was wild underneath that façade.

Riona blushed, but quickly recovered and arched a brow at me as she buttered another piece of bread. “How’s your head feeling? Did I scar you permanently?”

I ran my fingers through my hair. “No, I’m fine.”

She smirked and tapped a finger against her jaw. “Pity.”

I braced myself for the rest of my meal with Riona. I’d need my wits to match hers.

Chapter Ten

“Hey, warden. How’s the inmate reforming?”

I rolled my eyes at Sloane’s question and looked over the notes on my tablet. “So far, the lessons seem to be working. Only a couple of tabloids are still trying to beat the stripping story to death.”

“And the others?” She tried to annoy me by flipping on the TV to a popular celebrity news show, where the announcer talked about a tabloid picture of Romeo and me from Easter.

“They’ve been reporting more positively,” I sighed. “Ideally, they’ll shift away from the romance aspect soon. I need to get him more involved in charities.”

Sloane snatched the tablet from my hands and turned it off. “No. What you need to do is come down to the pub with me and fleece some unsuspecting men out of their money after they buy a couple of sweet, innocent girls drinks.”

“How does that still work?” I wondered aloud. “We’ve been doing it for years.”

“Men are stupid and easily blinded by a set of boobs.” Sloane pulled her leather jacket on and tossed mine to me.

I looked down at my jeans and white t-shirt. “Do you think I should change?”

“Fuck, no.” She looked me up and down. “Your boobs and ass look amazing. Besides, if you change, I’ll look underdressed.”

At least she wore a little color with her black. The ruby red tank top draped off her curves and exposed her black lace bra enough that her brothers would probably cringe when they saw her. A silver shamrock pendant hung between her breasts and caught the light.

“Are we going for angel and devil?”

Sloane winked at me and pulled a lipstick out of her small purse, using the mirror by the door to apply a seductive shade of red that matched her shirt. “You know it. Something for every taste.”

I donned my jacket and slid my feet into a pair of boots, quickly lacing them and checking my hair and makeup. I fluffed my hair and flipped it to one side to maximize the volume. “Okay, I’m good to go.”

“Rian will be here in a minute,” Sloane said, looking down at her phone. He was one of her father’s men. Somebody always took us to the bar and back if we were drinking. The O’Connors didn’t take chances with Sloane catching ride shares.

I locked the door behind us, and we took the elevator downstairs in time to see Rian pull up in his Jeep. He nodded and greeted us as we climbed in. “Evenin’, lasses. To the pub?”

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