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“Well, she didn’t pull the trigger,” Eoghan pointed out.
“She was one of those fuckers.” Aela paused. Then wagged her finger at Declan. “Don’t you think this means the hunt for an atelier is called off. You’re not about to keep me barefoot and pregnant and tied to the goddamn stove.”
Declan sniffed. “Never thought that.”
“Bullshit. I know you, Declan O’Donnelly.”
His sheepish smirk told me that hehadbeen hopeful about the barefoot and pregnant stuff.
“You guys remember Jen? Aoife’s friend?” Eoghan tossed into the mix, clearly wanting to change the subject when Aela and Declan started eye-fucking each other over the coffee table. “She came for Christmas?”
He got some nods, but it was Brennan, who was toying with the hand Camille had laid on his lap, who said, “She’s Padraig’s daughter.”
Inessa gaped at him. “Jen’s an O’Donnelly?”
“Apparently,” he muttered.
Camille frowned. “You didn’t know?”
“Not until recently,” Aidan confirmed, and I was grateful he didn’t drop me in it.
I was trying to make a good impression on my sisters-in-law and going around admitting that I’d stolen DNA wasn’t going to win me any awards.
Aoife already bore a grudge about that, and while I was trying to get friendly with her, it hadn’t been easy.
Today was the first day she hadn’t looked at me with disdain.
“Then there’s the fact that Finn’s not just our friend, he’s our brother,” Aidan murmured.
Aela grunted. “Is that all?”
Camille blinked. “I thought everyone knew that now?”
Inessa snickered. “I knew it the first time I came for Sunday dinner.”
My lips curved when I saw Aidan’s consternation. “You’re surrounded by very smart women, boys,” I declared, taking a final sip of my mimosa. “You need to get better at keeping secrets if you’re going to try to pull the wool over our eyes.”
Declan chuckled, Brennan grinned, and Eoghan, dear Lord, his lips actually twitched.
Surprised and delighted by the response, when I usually garnered nothing more than a grunt over potatoes, I preened when Aidan, clearly amused, tucked me into his side.
“They’re starting to like you,” he whispered in my ear.
Which, naturally, made me squirm.
Some mobsters liked me.
That made the inner thirteen-year-old in me squeal with glee.
