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Grayson was only in his seat for a moment when his whole demeanor changed. Aggression seemed to breathe from his body as he stared at something across the other side of the room. A quick glance over my shoulder, and I learned why.
A man that carried the same sort of menacing energy as Grayson had entered the restaurant. He was beginning to go bald, his red hair sparse over the top of his head. Eyes the color of sapphires stared out at me, and like the stone I associated them with, they were hard and austere. Behind him trailed another man who was as unremarkable as he could get. Brown eyes. Brown hair. No distinguishing features, although he did have an intense stare.
I looked over at Grayson, hoping to get some information, but he simply shook his head, his jaw vice-tight.
Another man arrived then. He had a receding hairline and a jagged scar running from above his eye socket to the corner of his mouth. He was followed in by a much younger man who had the same fair hair as him.
Next came a man whose dark hair was speckled with gray. Out of all the men, he looked to be the oldest, although there was a tinge of grayness to his skin that nudged at ill health. His eyes were so dark they were almost black, but it was the young beautiful, blonde woman who walked beside him that held my attention. With intelligent green eyes, she was wearing a gown that sparkled and shimmered with thousands of crystals sewn into the bodice.
Just as the blonde was being shown to her chair, another two men entered the restaurant. One had hair so dark it looked blue in the bright lights, his eyes the same startling blue as Grayson’s.
The man walking beside him had a mop of strawberry blond curls that were long enough to be pulled back into a ponytail. Freckles spattered the bridge of his nose while cool blue eyes stared at me before flickering to the blonde.
I chanced a glance at Grayson, seeing the tension in his shoulders as he stared at the collection of men and women in front of him.Where in the hell was Finnan?
Just then, the man in question swaggered into the restaurant, wearing a smile that resembled the cat who ate the canary. Behind him was Keir.
Mine and Finnan’s eyes met from across the room, and his smile turned devious.
He approached the table. “Sloane, my diamond, you look radiant.”
That name. I hated it. It was what I’d been called during the auction. I guessed now I knew why it had been used. It was clearly a code word.
Finnan held out his hand to me, but in order to place my hand in his, I had to rise from my chair. As I stood, I got a distinct impression that he wanted to show me off—to parade me about so the other men could see me.
Sure enough, as soon as I was close, he took me by the elbow and steered me to face the other men.
“Gentleman, allow me to introduce you to Miss Sloane Kavanaugh.” Finnan gestured to the man with the receding hairline and facial scar. “Sloane, this is Gael O’Mahony, boss of the Sionnach Clan, and his son, Owen.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Kavanaugh,” Gael said, offering me his hand. I took it, feeling my palm slide against calloused skin.
“What does Sionnach mean?” I asked.
Gael looked pleased that I’d got the pronunciation right. “Fox,” he replied. “In Gaelic. Do you know any Gaelic?”
I shook my head and slid my hand from his.
Finnan continued with the introductions. The balding redhead was Gannon Sweeney of Clan Fiach—his off-sider Seamus Hayes. Gannon leered at me, licking his lips as he dragged his heated gaze down my body. If it was possible to feel violated from a look, I was feeling that violation now.
“I’ll take the whore after you’re done with her, Quinn,” he announced, reaching around to grab a handful of my ass. Noticing the bandage on my hand, he sneered, “Even if she is injured. I only need her mouth and pussy to be functional.”
I was too stunned to react, but from my periphery, Grayson rose so abruptly from his seat that it tipped over backward, clattering to the tiled floor. I thought he was going to physically set the other man straight, until Finnan barked something harsh in Gaelic, causing Grayson to back down.
He then turned his ire to Gannon. “Back the fuck off, Sweeney. I know you like them young, but she’s not for you.”
Sweeney took a step back, his hands up in the universal sign of surrender. It was too bad the expression on his face didn’t match.
Although I had a few choice words for the man, I chose a different path. Gesturing to another man, I asked, “And who is this?”
Finnan squeezed my bicep. “Ryan Griffen. He’s the boss of Iolair Clan.”
“That’s eagle, lass,” Ryan said in a rasping baritone.
I looked back at Gannon, who was openly leering at me. “What does Fiach mean? Handsy Cradle-Snatching Asshole?”
Ryan hid his laugh with a cough and turned away to clear his throat.
Sweeney’s mouth twisted into a snarl. “Be careful, lass,” he warned in a low voice. “Or I’ll add your ass to my list of fuck holes.”
