Rather reluctantly, the barman turns to me next.
“Shepherd’s pie and a Guinness,” I request.
“I’ve never seen you order anything except vodka before,” Carina comments once we’re relatively alone again.
“I’m trying to blend in.”
She smiles. It’s different from the one she flashed the bartender. Softer.
“I wouldn’t mind.”
This would be easier if she didn’t look at me like that. She’s refusing to marry Morello, and the little I’ve heard about him suggests he keeps his hands pretty clean. Doesn’t have the stomach or the appetite for excessive violence. She finds him objectionable, but she’s always wet for me. I could slide myhand up her thigh right here, and I doubt she’d stop me. She’s suspected the truth since seeing the knife wound, and she’s continued meeting me.I wouldn’t mindsuggests she wants to keep meeting me, even after last night’s confessions.
I’ll have to kill Seamus tonight after he delivers her papers. I can’t risk him revealing her new identity if anyone comes asking. I was planning to pretend I’d forgotten something or track him down after she fell asleep tonight, but maybe I should do it in front of her. It won’t change my feelings for her, obviously, but it might be easier to let her go if she wants me as far from her as possible. Hearing I’ve killed will be very different from witnessing it.
Carina lifts her left hand, using her thumb to smooth the lines of my forehead.
“You look serious,” she tells me. Her lips curve up before she adds, “Husband.”
I decide I’m definitely shooting Seamus in front of her.
“We’re not here on vacation,” I say more harshly than I intended to.
Her hand drops right as our drinks arrive.
Carina grabs her cider, lifting it. “To ourworktrip. No fun allowed.”
My jaw works as she sips. I unclench it so I can grab my glass and swallow half the contents in one chug, including the head.
The annoyance in her expression lingers, but her eyes widen. I don’t normally drink in public. I never drink in public actually. In certain places, I’m paranoid about being poisoned the way my uncle was. Anywhere, it’s a poor idea to muddle my senses.
She noticed that, which irritates me for no reason at all.
As does the fact that I don’t care about being responsible right now. I want to sit here and eat dinner with her and forget the reasons this isn’t a leisurely outing.
“What are your brothers like?”
“Why?” she asks, instantly suspicious.
“Just curious. You never talked about your family.”
“Yeah, and now you know why.”
“I’m not asking you to tell me anything …” My voice trails because I’m not sure what I’m asking her to tell me. I want to know she’ll have someone, or someones, looking out for her if she ever winds up back in Italy. I want to know about her family, separate from their illegal activities, because they’re part of who she is. I shake my head, swallowing another sip of beer. The heavy, malty taste is nothing like the smooth slide of vodka. “Never mind. Let’s discuss the weather.”
Last time I was in Ireland, it poured rain the entire visit. Today, there’s a spectacular sunset casting a pink glow over the street outside.
Carina leans closer. “If I answer, you have to answer my questions.”
“Fine.”
“I mean it, Lev.”
“I will.” I can’t promise they’ll be replies she likes, but I can be honest.
She nods, satisfied and—if I’m reading her expression right—taken aback. “Uh … Leo is the oldest. I don’t see him much. He’s married. Luca is next. He’s an amazing chef; he runs my father’s restaurant. I’m sure he’s involved in … he has other hobbies at least. Lorenzo—Enzo—is eighteen months older than me. He’s easy to get along with. He’d sneak me sweets as kids, wine when we got older. Let me drive his fancy car when I was first learning. Treated me like a sibling, I guess. Leo and Luca are more mini versions of my dad.” She reaches for her cider, swallowing another sip.
“And your mother?”
