Brutal Vows

9

The size of them is startling. But now that I think of it, he has enormous hands, too.

My husband had small hands and even smaller feet. They were the size of a doll’s in comparison. To go along with his teeny-tiny c**k.

I refuse to consider what it might mean that the Irishman has feet the size of skis.

“Anyway,” I say, flustered, “at least he’s not wearing that awful face now. Did you see the way he looked at her when they were introduced?”

“I thought he might walk right out the door,” says Gianni, shaking his head in disgust. “What the hell is wrong with him? Lili’s beautiful!” “Maybe he’s gay.”

“Pfft. Look at him. The way he carries himself, the way he swaggers…”

The way he looked at my lips.

I swallow, my mouth suddenly dry.

“That’s a lion king,” Gianni continues. “Not a fanook.”

I wince. “Please don’t use that word. It’s extremely offensive.”

Gianni rolls his eyes, muttering, “You and your love of pole smokers.”

“That’s even worse! For the love of God, Gianni, how about trying not to be such a bigot for once?”

He waves a hand dismissively at me. “Look, she’s laughing. That’s a good sign, giusto?”

Lili’s tinkling laugh carries the distance between us and them. I can tell it’s genuine, not forced. She isn’t trying to be polite, she actually thinks whatever the Irishman said is funny.

He probably tried to tell her that he’s intelligent.

At that moment, he looks over, catches me watching him, and winks.

He f*****g winks.

Then he grins, revealing a set of perfect white teeth.

I’d like to carve out his liver.

Gianni mutters, “Well, he certainly seems to be in a better mood now.” He blows out a hard breath and looks up at the ceiling. “Don’t stare at him, for Christ’s sake.”

But suddenly it has become impossible not to stare at him. His laughing eyes are tractor-beams, dragging me in.

No one laughs at me. No one.

Ever.

They’re all too busy avoiding my gaze, as if I’m Medusa and they’re afraid they’ll be turned to stone with one glance.

But this golden lion who’s named after a bug and looks like a comic book superhero doesn’t avoid my gaze. He grabs it and holds it hostage.

And he’s definitely not afraid to laugh at me. In fact, I think it might be his new favorite thing.

I don’t quite know what to make of that.

Maybe the Irish are all crazy? I haven’t really known any before. All I think of when someone says Ireland are four leaf clovers, leprechauns, and green beer.

Now I can add to that rude men with huge feet.

Though Kieran seems sweet. He isn’t rude in the least.

I glance over my shoulder to find him out in the corridor, his hands shoved in his pockets and his nose scrunched as he gazes up at the frescoes on the wall.

He shakes his head and mutters, “Bloody daft altogether.”

I turn away. It’s too bad he’s not higher up in the Mob’s hierarchy. He might actually be tolerable as a spouse. But he seems to be a bodyguard or a driver, a rank too powerless to be of use to Gianni.

Though Quinn is only second-in-command, Gianni knows very well how quickly leadership changes in our world. Our own father was once the top dog, until a ruthless rival replaced him. All it would take is a single bullet to put Quinn on top.

Or take him out.

The thought makes me smile.

When I do, the Irish lout still staring at me licks his lips.

I rip my gaze away from his and wonder if I remembered to reload the gun in my nightstand after I cleaned it last week.

Lili and the lout spend another twenty minutes chatting while Gianni and I wait patiently near the door. Then he stands, gesturing for Lili to do the same.

“Here they come!” Gianni blurts as they start to walk toward us.

Lili’s expression is calm. I can tell she’s being careful not to show any emotion. She’ll tell me everything about their conversation, of course, but for the moment all I can do is hope that it wasn’t too horrible for her.

The Irishman’s face is also emotionless, but there’s a look in his eyes that I don’t like.

If he asks for proof that she’s a virgin right in front of her, I’ll tear off one of his giant feet and beat him to death with it.

Jesus, Reyna. Get a grip!

Honestly, I haven’t felt this unhinged in years. The man brings out the animal in me.

Thank God I made sure to get the final word on the approval of this match, because if he married into the family and I had to interact with him on a regular basis, I’d start climbing the walls and shrieking like a baboon.

As Lili approaches, I hold out a hand. She quickly comes to my side and takes it, gripping it tightly and standing so close, it’s as if she wants to hide under my dress.

Quinn strolls to a stop a few feet away and looks at Lili from under his lashes.

Then he looks at Gianni.

Then at me.

His smile comes on slow and hot.

“Mr. Caruso,” he drawls, still looking at me. “Thank you for allowing

Lili and me a moment to speak privately.”

He’s calling her Lili? Nobody calls her that but her family!

The nerve of this beast.

Gianni is so excited by the change in the Irishman’s manner that he’s practically shitting himself. “Of course! I trust everything went well?”

The Irishman lets him hang on his anxiety for a moment before nodding.

Shit.

Gianni exhales an audible breath of relief. Then he claps his hands together, making Lili jump. “Excellent!”

“If I may have a word with you, however. Alone.”

“Certainly!”