“The brownie recipe that’s worth millions?” She points a spatula at me. “That brownie will get Shay into the White House.”
“Yes, I’m well aware of the O’Donnellys’ attempt to legitimize the family name,” I say dryly. “I was just hoping you could bake them.”
“You’ll have to buy them like everyone else.”
“She makes Uncle Finn buy them when she’s mad at him,” Seamus confesses around a yawn as he steps into the kitchen.
Victoria’s eyes warn instant death via spatula when my eyes narrow on his naked chest and the fact he’s only wearing underwear.
Seamus, still yawning, begs, “Pancakes, Vicky?”
“Yes. And I’m making some for you because you gave me peace and quiet last night.”
He withdraws a bottle of orange juice from the refrigerator and downs half of it in one swallow. “How did your plotting go?”
“Better than expected. I want Dyers's head on a platter.” She nearly tumbles over Charlie, who darts toward the refrigerator as Seamus hasn’t closed the door yet. “Yes, Salome, I know that’s how you like heads served up to you, but there’s nothing in there for you yet.”
Seamus pauses. “You’re joking, right?”
“About which part?”
“Serving Charlie the head of…”
“Why are you calling him Charlie now?” she grinds out.
“Because Salome as a dog’s name sucks.”
I smile at Seamus. “I agree.”
“There? See. He’s going to have to live with the little fucker too. You both get equal say in his name.”
Victoria pouts. “He’s my dog.”
“Who let him out last night?” Seamus hints.
“And this morning,” I tack on.
“Ohh, so this is how it’s going to go, huh? You two bitching about one another when you’re not in the same room, then picking on me when we’re together? I see how it is.”
Seamus snorts. “I’ll call Maxim a dick to his face.”
“Likewise,” I grouch with a pointed look as I return to the essays Misha sent me last night.
I say essays because Nikolai clearly tried to smooth over the troubled waters he himself stirred and Misha’s apologies read like a dissertation.
“Anyway, Charlie’s a good name. A strong name.”
“Salome is the strongest of them all.”
I tune out of their bickering until:
“Do dogs eat heads?” Victoria pauses. “For that matter, do pigs?”
“Dad told me pigs eat everything. Even the tail.”
She cackles. “Gross.”
A smile dances on Seamus’s lips. “Thought you’d like that one.”
