Mafia King (Young Irish Rebels #2) - Vi Carter Page 0,78

well.”

“I think so, too.” Emma’s voice is low. “Noel would like you.”

I run the blade along my beard and watch the sink fill up with black facial hair.

“You don’t sound convinced that he would like me.” I continue to shave.

“It’s just we aren’t big on Northerners in our household. But if he gives you a chance, I think he’ll like you.”

I take a peek at the hopeful look on Emma’s face. “Am I starting to get ugly?” I ask as half of my beard is gone.

“No.” Her word is breathy.

I shave it all off. It’s an odd feeling as I run my hand across my face. I see my father stare back at me and look away from the mirror.

Turning on the tap, I let all the hair run down the drain.

“Your turn,” I say to Emma once I’m finished.

She’s staring at me, and I raise both brows. “It can’t be that bad.”

She shakes her head. “It’s not.” She licks her lips. “So what are we doing to me? I don’t have a beard.”

I grin at her and step closer. She cranes her neck back to look at me as I reach into her hair and take out the bobbie that holds the mass of curls up. “I can cut it if you want.”

Her green eyes are wide as she stares up at me. She nods. “Okay.”

I retrieve a pair of scissors and place Emma in front of the mirror. I hadn’t cut anyone’s hair before, but it couldn’t be that hard. The curls fall down the middle of her back. I never give much notice to women’s hair, but now touching Emma’s, it doesn’t feel right to cut it. “Maybe you could just color it?”

Emma reaches her hand back. “Give me the scissors.”

I don’t. “I’ll do it.” I hesitate again, and Emma rolls her eyes in the mirror. “I wish you gave this much thought to other things.”

Her face grows hard, and I can imagine what those other things are.

I snip and watch the curls fall onto the bathroom floor.

“Happy now?” I don’t know what was making me angrier, the fact that I didn’t want to cut her hair or the fact that she was still looking at me like I’m a monster.

“Ecstatic.” I meet her gaze in the mirror.

Her eyes soften.

I look away and continue cutting. When I’m done, the floor is covered in red curls. The shoulder-length hair seems like it’s tripled in size.

“You’re going to stand out even more,” I say.

Emma blows a curl out of her eye.

I keep my hand firmly on the scissors, so I don’t turn her around and fuck her against the counter.

“I could color it.” She pulls a curl, and it bounces back.

My cock continues to grow at how innocent but beautiful she looks. I step away from her.

“What color?” I ask like I give a shit.

“Blonde?” She turns to me now. “Do you think it would suit me?”

I place the scissors on the counter and step up to her. I take a curl and run it through my index and thumb. “You’re a red-headed beauty.”

Her eyes widen before they fill with a want that I would do anything to fill. “You’re a dark King.” She whispers back; she doesn’t smile or make a joke of her words.

“Dark? Because of my hair?” I ask as I keep my gaze on her lips. Her small tongue flicks out and licks them. My cock twitches.

“Your hair, yes, and other things.”

She has my attention. I’m waiting for her to continue.

“Your soul is a little bit dark.” She rises up on the tip of her toes and presses a kiss to my lips. Her hand touches my bare cheek, and it feels strange to be able to feel her touch so clearly.

“I’m a whole lot of dark, Emma.” I take another kiss more forcefully.

Her hands leave my face and rest on my chest, she pushes me slightly, and I stop.

“I know, Shay.” Her humor has fled, and now I see the anger and confusion seep back in.

I step away from her, my own mind going to Amanda and the scumbag whose face was on my TV screen.

“I need to get some pictures developed.”

Emma folds her arms across her chest and nods, the curls bouncing with the movement. “Family holiday?”

I don’t answer her and leave the bathroom. She follows me but doesn’t fire any more questions my way.

I enter the living room and take the small videotape out of the player before pocketing it. The flask