Mafia King (Young Irish Rebels #2) - Vi Carter Page 0,82
for Marta, the love he has for this place.
She isn’t sheepish about being caught but winks at me before entering the kitchen.
The music ends this time, and we return to our seats. I drink some more Guinness and watch Shay drink his.
“What did you want to be when you were growing up?” I ask.
Marta brings out the pies and gives Shay a kiss on the cheek before she leaves.
“Women really love you.”
“I hadn’t noticed.” Shay smiles into his pie before his gaze darts up to me. “Are you including yourself in that bracket?” It’s a joke, I know, but when I think about him, I’m not sure I can be excluded from that bracket.
Fear. That’s what I see fill Shay’s eyes. He stops eating. “Jesus, Emma.” He sounds horrified, and my face blazes.
“No, I’m not in that bracket, so you can lose the look of pure horror from your face, Shay.” I bark too loudly, and it spoils the moment. I hate the way he’s looking at me.
“What would it matter if I was?” I fire and drop my spoon. “Why, is that so bad?” My heart pounds rapidly in my chest, with my own fear of coming to terms with something like that and also with humiliation with how he’s looking at me like I’m stupid.
“It would matter a lot.” His tone is cold, and I see the old ruthless Shay reappearing. I want to reach across and touch him as if it might stop this horrible transformation.
“Well, I don’t.”
“Good.” He nods and picks up his drink.
Marta arrives again. She must have heard us. I don’t look up. I can’t let her see my burning face.
“Excuse me. I need to use the bathroom.” I rise.
“The door on the left at the entrance, love.”
I can’t look at Marta as I leave the table with humiliation heavy on my heels. What was wrong with me? I reach the bathroom and stop at the mirrors. The moment I meet my eye, I blink, and the tears spill.
I really look at myself. There was nothing wrong with me. It was him. This was his issue, not mine. It doesn’t stop the burn at the back of my throat. I splash some water on my face before I relieve myself and return to the table. Marta is no longer there, and Shay has a face on him that would have a flock of sheep scattering for safety. At times he really looked like the big bad wolf. That’s what he wanted the world to see. I sit down and keep my head high. It didn’t matter what he said, I had seen the real Shay O’Reagan, and no matter what happened, he’d have to get over it.
I’m ready to confront him. I’m ready to lay it all out on the table when his phone rings. He gets it out quickly like he’s on Who-Wants-To-Be-a-Millionaire, and this is a lifeline.
“John, I didn’t expect to hear from you so soon.”
John speaks, but I can’t hear what he says.
Shay’s face transforms, and when he looks up at me, trepidation drips slowly down my back.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
SHAY
“The South?” I’m aware of how Emma is watching me as I rise from the table. I found him. Marik Ales. That’s the man from the footage, the one who paid to have my brother killed—all for money.
“Send me the address,” I say and hang up. Marta walks out of the kitchen; her steps become faster. As she reaches the table, she keeps a smile on her face. “Everything okay? Can I get you anything else?”
She isn’t asking about the food. I stand up and pull her into an embrace that she doesn’t expect but returns. I have no idea how this will all end, but her presence here has always made me feel closer to Frankie.
I kiss her head before I release her. Worry shows in her eyes.
“What can we do?” Her smile wobbled.
“Just do what you always do.”
She gives a half-laugh before her attention turns to Emma. “It was lovely meeting you.”
I don’t linger on my goodbyes as I leave the restaurant.
“Do you want to tell me what’s happened?” Emma’s half jogging to keep up with me, and I know with her I have a choice to make. The way she looked at me earlier made me realize that I wanted her to look at me like that, yet having someone else to care for is dangerous in this world. Her falling in love with a man like me isn’t wise.