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He laughs and sits very close. “Come on, love, lighten up. Want to put some money on one of the fighters? Brendan’s one of mine, he’s in the blue shorts.”
“You mean, the guy getting pummeled?”
Ronan scowls. “Currently, yes.”
“I think I’ll take his opponent.”
He barks a laugh. “You love being confrontational, don’t you?”
I lean on an elbow and study him, trying not to smile. He’s probably right, I’m being a little aggressive for no reason, but I can’t help myself. Something about this guy always pisses me off.
“When it comes to you? There’s nothing better.”
“You’re right. There’s nothing better.” He leans in close, and the way he emphasizes the second part sends a shiver down my spine. Then he’s gesturing at one of the bookies, who rushes over to take a few hundred dollars on Brendan’s opponent. “For the lady,” he explains, winking at me.
I roll my eyes, but hey, if the bet wins and I get some more money in my pocket, I’m not complaining.
As we drink and watch the fight, Ronan introduces me to more of his entourage. There’s Declan and Eamon, Finn and Cormac, Kieran and Aidan, and I’m not sure how they’re all related or if they’re related at all, but Ronan keeps calling them cousins, so I figure they’re in his organization at the very least. The way they jostle and tease each other reminds me of the old days, and a strange ache builds in my chest watching them.
I miss this. I really miss it. I don’t like to think of myself as a spoiled mafia princess, but I was definitely in love with being a member of the Famiglia, and I especially liked being my father’s daughter.
Dad went out of his way to make sure I was included, and the rest of the Famiglia members followed his lead. I wasn’t exactly doted on, but I was treated like their own daughter, with respect and friendliness.
I had a place. Ibelongedsomewhere.
Just like Ronan belongs here. He jokes and laughs, and his boys seem to genuinely like him, or at least most of them. I catch others lingering nearby, not smiling, not acting like Ronan’s the center of the world. From years of mafia life, I can almost smell the divisions in his little Hayes Group, but that’s none of my business.
In the ring, Brendan ducks a few punches, weaves around a few more, takes a right hook to the jaw before coming back with a vicious left jab. He forces his opponent back, staggers him, then slams a right hook directly into his chin. The man goes down and doesn’t get back up, and Brendan’s announced as the winner.
Ronan pats my hands. “Shame for you, love, real shame for you.” The bookie returns and hands over a stack of money which Ronan passes around to some of his men.
“I thought you bet on Brendan’s opponent?” I say with mock outrage.
“After I put even more on Brendan himself. Told you, love, he’s one of mine, and mine don’t lose.”
“Your arrogance never fails to impress me.”
He raises his eyebrows. “I suppose I’ll have to find other ways to impress you as well then.”
“Good luck with that.”
“You’re a challenge, love, and I like it.” He beams at me before turning back to Niall. The two of them engage in a debate over the next fight, and I sink back into my seat to watch for a little while.
That feeling slips through me again. Memories of my father and my old life play through my head. I’ve been trying to outrunthem for a while now, and when I had a plan with Marco, I could distract myself with revenge.
But now all that grief and loneliness is catching up.
I excuse myself and get out of the booth. I hurry to the exit, not looking back. I’m not sure if Ronan notices when I leave, but it doesn’t matter. I should say goodbye, thank him for his hospitality like a normal person, but I feel tears welling up and I don’t want him to see me cry.
God, I miss this so much. I miss my father, my friends, myfamily.
But it’s all gone.
Once outside, I take deep breaths to get myself together. No tears tonight. Dad hated when I cried. He was patient with me when I was little, but as I got older, he had to sit me down one night and explain that emotions were fine, crying was fine, but never,everwhere someone could see. A Santoro was strong. Always strong.
I don’t feel strong.
“Wait up, love.” Ronan appears in the doorway and follows after me. “You ran off.”
