Page 7 of King of Temptation

They said their goodbyes and she pulled her phone from her pocket to make a note for herself to send the book to Noelle before she forgot, then headed for the mailroom. The excitement that had faded somewhat during her conversations with Dom came rushing back with a vengeance when she found the box that had been left for her.

It was time for her very first stakeout. But first, she needed snacks.

Chapter 3

Brody

Sunday night dinners were one of the many traditions he and his cousins had carried on with after their parents’ deaths a decade before. And while he enjoyed his alone time and the privacy of the home he owned one street over, he looked forward to Sunday evenings when he could sit down and enjoy his family as just his family without the shadow of their business dealings hanging over their heads.

From his spot to Killian’s left, he let his gaze travel over the gathered O’Rourkes. Aria, their newest member, had taken what had previously been Brody’s spot at the table to Killian’s right. While Brody was still very much Killian’s second in command, it had only seemed right for his wife to take that seat. Especially since Aria had proven herself to be an O’Rourke in every way that mattered, over and over again.

To Aria’s right were the twins, Tiernan and Lochlan. Eerily identical, other than the jagged scar on Tiernan’s face that he’d been gifted by an ex-girlfriend way back in high school, the twins were what most would refer to as the ‘muscle’ of the family. Of all the cousins, they still had the most fun with their jobs, and often took great pleasure in hunting down the family’s enemies. Lochlan, especially, had been enjoying flexing his borderline-sociopathic tendencies ever since they’d all but declared war on the other families in the area.

Or maybe they were psychopathic tendencies. Nobody was really sure.

Then there was cousin Murphy, the eldest of them all by nearly ten years. By all rights, he should be in Killian’s spot, but he’d taken a very large, very deliberate step back from the family business over twenty years ago when he’d gotten married and had his one and only child. His wife Abigail had long since disappeared, leaving Murphy alone in the raising of their son, Rowan.

Rowan himself was something of a disappointment. Slouched between his current conquest, Clara, and his father, he glared at all of them from under hooded eyes, as if they were somehow at fault for his life not being even more privileged than it already was.

Brody liked Clara. She was a sweet little thing who rarely spoke, but when she did it was clear how observant and quick-witted she was. He’d be sad to see her go when Rowan finally decided he’d gotten tired of her and sent her on her way, but he also secretly thought it would be the best thing for her.

And finally, at the opposite end of the table from Killian, sat his sister Reagan. Her arm had finally been freed from the sling she’d been instructed to keep it in after being shot in front of the police station last month in the same shootout that had taken their cousin Sean’s life.

Reagan was being uncharacteristically broody, slouched down in her chair as she sipped her wine and picked at her dinner.

“Who pissed in your cereal today, Rae?” Brody asked, buoyed by the prospect of poking at his cousin. As an only child, he’d never really had the opportunity to engage in the sibling warfare Killian and Reagan had often waged on each other, though he was close enough in age to Killian for them to have occasionally ganged up on Reagan.

Okay. Perhaps more than occasionally.

It was Aria who spoke up, her tone much more cheerful than Reagan’s expression. “She’s pouting because Naomi wasn’t at the clinic today.”

From the end of the table, Reagan scowled. “I am not pouting. I do not pout.”

“Rae, if pouting was an Olympic sport, you’d be taking gold right now,” Aria shot back dryly.

Eyes narrowing, Reagan waved her wine glass in Aria’s direction. “Killian, get your woman under control.”

Chuckling, Killian reached for his wife’s hand, bringing her knuckles to his lips. “I’ve tried. Alas, I fear it is an exercise in futility.”

From Brody’s left came an indelicate snort. “Clearly you aren’t trying hard enough,” Rowan mumbled.

“Rowan,” Murphy scolded quietly, but it was too late.

“Excuse me?”

Killian’s voice was cold enough to freeze the Atlantic. If the boy knew what was good for him, he’d back down.

Unfortunately, Rowan was something of a complete fucking idiot.

Jerking his chin up, he stared down his nose at Killian. “I said, clearly you aren’t trying hard enough. You’re the head of the O’Rourke family, Killian. I don’t understand why you don’t act like it.”

Silence fell around the table. Even the soft clinking of silverware stilled as everyone watched the scene unfold with bated breath.

“And I don’t understand why you’re acting like we won’t kick you out of our fucking house,” Aria replied with the same amount of glee she’d shown while she was poking at Reagan. Only now there was a sharp edge to the cheer that would do any O’Rourke proud and Brody couldn’t help but let her see him smile as he lifted his whiskey in a silent toast.

“Killian, are you really going to let her talk to me like that?” In glaring contrast to Aria’s deadly amusement, Rowan sounded like a whining child. Which seemed apt, considering he still acted like one most of the time.

Out of the corner of his eye, Brody saw Reagan’s smile a split second before she hid it behind her wineglass. Their gazes connected and Brody had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from joining in his cousin’s laughter.