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Then, as if I’ve summoned trouble through my negative thinking, I notice several Brennan men enter. I snap my fingers, gaining the attention of my club brothers. Gesturing at the assholes, I glance around to figure out where all the Syndicate’s security is positioned. If things go south, where is the safest place for Natasha to run?
“Look at the lovely couple,” Billy Brennan says, stopping at our table. He turns to the woman next to him and adds, “Don’t be getting any ideas just because the biker proposed to the lady on his lap. It’s all a business deal, and I’m only looking to marry for love.”
The woman snaps her gum and giggles at his words. I want to punch them both. Natasha distracts me by moving around on my lap and making my hard dick hurt.
“I’m sorry, but I don’t know who you are,” Natasha says when Billy keeps staring at her.
Tack startles me by cracking up. He lowers his gaze and laughs harder. Golden frowns at our friend, but I get why Tack is amused. This shit feels like fucking high school, and Natasha just played the “popular girl unaware of the losers” card.
“I like your earrings,” Siobhan tells the girlfriend of one of the other Brennan men.
The woman immediately starts talking up where she bought them. I know the Brennan men want to tell her to shut up, but I sense they’re here on actual dates. Losing their tempers now might mean no fucking later.
Before the conversation can hit another gear, the band starts playing “Danny’s Song.” The Brennan men’s dates bounce around, seeming tipsy like they got loaded before showing up here.
Billy Brennan starts to walk away and then stops and leans down toward Natasha. It takes all my self-control to keep from punching his slimy face.
“I’m Billy Brennan,” he tells her. “My family keeps your family from spending the rest of their lives in fucking prison. That’s who I am, Natasha Kovak.”
“Well, then, thank you for your service,” she replies, staring with the coldly unimpressed gaze of a Kovak daughter.
As much as I hate when Natasha’s icy princess gaze is leveled at me, I find it hilarious when she wields it against others. She seems so viciously dismissive without revealing an ounce of hostility.
Billy Brennan realizes he can’t rattle Viktor Kovak’s daughter. Or maybe he notices how I’m ready to bash in his fucking face. Whatever the reason, he takes his group to the bar top while they wait for a table to open up. When none clear out immediately, he scares people out of the back area so his group can sit.
“Do I want to know what that was about?” Siobhan asks me.
“No.”
Natasha doesn’t ask about the Brennan family. I doubt she has any interest in the Kovak Syndicate’s business.
Back in the day, her life revolved around her friends and charity work. Her brothers went to college for finance and business. Natasha studied social work and psychology. Her goal was to clean up the damage left behind by violent Banta City factions.
Shielding herself from the Syndicate’s ugly underbelly is how Natasha survives in her world. It’s also why she can want me despite the kind of man I am.
Right now, she acts oblivious to the tension around us. Her gaze flashes from the ring on her finger to my face. When I remain on edge with the Brennan men nearby, she kisses my cheek and focuses on the band playing.
While stroking the back of her head, I consider the consequences of the club disappointing the Brennan family. The cop assholes and their criminal cousins are still making money. The Kovak Syndicate likely doesn’t know about the play made behind their back. The last thing the Brennan family should do is draw attention to themselves.
Yet, the three men stew in their quiet rage. I catch them watching us for the next hour.
After Hunter’s band finishes their second set, she returns to the table. The women discuss maids of honor dresses.
Meanwhile, my club brothers stay on alert, assuming Billy Brennan might do something suicidal if he gets enough booze in his system.
Possibly, Natasha’s security detail assumes the same. Not long after Hunter’s band finishes for the night, the head bodyguard steps closer to his boss’s daughter.
“Your brother wants you home,” he tells her in English before adding something in Czech.
Nodding, Natasha looks at Siobhan and Hunter rather than me. “We’ll meet tomorrow for dress shopping.”
Finally, her blue eyes find me, and she offers a smile. “I’ll see you at your house.”
“When?” I mutter, wrapping her tighter against me and shooting a dirty look at the security asshole.
“Once the kids’ rooms are ready.”
“I can get that done tomorrow.”
