Mafia King (Young Irish Rebels #2) - Vi Carter Page 0,50
as run down as the rest of the building. He knocks three times on a door that has the number 317 on it.
The door opens, and Shay enters, pulling me along with him. The man who opened the door gives us a nod, and it’s like I’ve stepped into a different world. The grandeur of the room makes me think if I touch something, it will disappear like a mirage.
How could this exist in a place like this?
“Mr. O’Reagan. We weren’t expecting you until next month.”
“A change of plans, Keeper.” Shay’s voice holds the level of respect that it had for Lucian, and so it should. I’m fighting a smile—the Keeper. The actual keeper was in front of me. He isn’t near as impressive as Lucian, but his power, his knowledge and his age shines in his blue eyes.
The keeper glances at me. He’s clocked Shay holding my wrist. I wonder what he makes of that. It’s not my hand, so it’s not intimate, yet Shay is guiding me like I might be a prisoner. Yet, there is no power behind his hold. Now I’m questioning why he hasn’t let me go.
I hold out my other hand. “I’m Emily.”
He takes it. His long fingers wrap around mine, and I’m tempted to withdraw my hand, but I hold steady until he releases me.
“Your quarters have been prepared.”
Shay continues his walk through the grand room with me in tow. It’s the low-hanging chandeliers that don’t fit here or the lush red and gold rug under our feet. Maybe it’s the towering marble pillars or the fact that every painting I pass belongs in a museum. I stop at one. I wasn’t into art, but this one I know.
Shay stops too and faces the painting. “Martin gave it to us as a gift.”
“Martin, as in Martin, the art thief.” I’m repeating what I already know. More laughter bubbles up my throat, but with it comes an onslaught of confusion.
“None of this is making sense, Shay.” I’m still staring at the painting of the elf, stroking a cat while the world burns down behind him. The elf is a mockery of our president, but this painting is everything.
“If you're so high up with the RA, why has your name been associated with the other side?”
Shay’s hand is gentle as he leads me away from the stolen painting. An heirloom to our Irish history, and I know where it was hanging.
Why was Shay O’Reagan, branded a Northerner--an enemy of the state—if he was rubbing shoulders with Lucian Sheahan and the Keeper? It didn't get any higher than that. Not even my father would have met these people. They were stories, fables even, sometimes myths to us. But here, they were breathing the very same air as I was.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
SHAY
Emma keeps looking around her, repeating the same words. “I don’t understand.”
She follows me into the bar. I take down a bottle of brandy and pour myself a glass as I watch her take in the space. It’s impressive, but it’s long lost its appeal to me.
The brandy burns as I drink down the full glass and refill it. This once was my playground—the women, the wealth, the power. The power that had really belonged to my da at the time, but I had lapped it up. That was until Frankie.
“Are you going to tell me what’s going on?” Emma runs her hand down the large snooker table. The balls click off each other as she mindlessly rolls them around the table.
“You’ve been branded a Northerner.”
I take down another glass, and half fill it. Picking up both glasses, I walk over to Emma. The marks on her neck will be a reminder of the madness that stirs in me. I should send her home.
I hand her the drink.
“I am a Northerner,” I answer.
Emma takes the drink and sips it. “But I just met Lucian Sheahan.”
Bringing her here wasn’t wise. None of this was.
“My grandfather was deep in with Lucian’s grandfather. He was the Commandant.”
Emma’s drink stops just at her lips. “But that would make you…” She trails off.
“It’s complicated.” Everything was, since Frankie.
I finish my glass.
“When I was told I was marrying you, they called you a Northerner.”
I return to the bar.
“Because I betrayed my people.” I can’t explain it all to Emma. The more she knows, the more dangerous this is for her.
“I was branded a traitor.” I turn to her paling face.