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A smile lit up his eyes. “That was all Uncle Conor.”
I smiled back at him, amused by how amusedhewas at his uncle’s antics. For a kid who wanted to be president, he didn't mind using lawless tactics for his own gain...
Not that that was too unusual in politics.
Still, the O’Donnellys were like no family I’d ever met before. I didn’t mean that in a bad way, either. It was a good way, a very good one.
A sound outside the kitchen drew my attention. I heard Inessa’s moan and groused, “Those two never stop, I swear.”
“They’re still newlyweds.”
“Hardly,” I pshawed, but I didn’t miss the puppy eyes he shot at the door. He had a crush on Inessa, and he wasn’t good at hiding it.
Eoghan might seem placid in most things, but I’d heard him arguing with someone called Driftwood on the phone a few times—I’d almost peed my pants. He wasnota man whom you messed with.
And crushing on his wife was exactly that. Shay needed to get over his crush. Yesterday.
“I’d better go. If I missed anything, tough. I’m not going back to that deli. The butcher looked like he wanted to cut off my hand and sell that.”
“Would you say that if he wasn’t Russian?” I sniffed.
“It had nothing to do with his being Russian,” Shay grumbled, “and everything to do with how he kept twirling that frickin’ cleaver of his.” He backed away to the door that led to the maintenance elevator and waved at me as he said, “Let me know if you sucker them or not.”
Smirking, I told him, “Game on.”
He stuck out his tongue as the door closed behind him, and I took advantage of the fact that Eoghan and Inessa were making out to carefully empty the carrier bags and to lay all the items on the counter.
If I served it right, they’d never be able to tell that the items were store bought and not homemade. It didn’t matter if I lost, except Shay and I had a bet running—if I won, then he’d teach me how to kiss. And if he won, I had to teach him Russian.
I emptied the containers, carefully unwrapped the festive treats that I’d been raised eating, and tried not to think about the fact that Papa wasn’t with us this year.
He hadn’t been the best of fathers, but he was all I had. Now, I was an orphan, but it hurt that I was safer than I’d been with him alive.
The thought had me biting my lip as pain stung me, and I focused on making everything appear as if I’d been the one cooking it, disposing of the containers in the trash shoot outside so I wouldn’t get caught.
Forty minutes later, I heard the sounds of voices and knew Camille and Brennan had arrived.
Unlike Inessa who wasn’t particularly nosy, Camille was curious and asked a lot of questions because she felt bad about leaving us.
I didn’t hold it against her like Inessa did, and I was grateful for her interest. Grateful for her, period.
The door opened, and while I saw her, knew itwasher, for a second, I didn’t see the Camille of today.
I saw her from before.
It hit me out of nowhere.
The flashback—blood on her mouth.
Hatred in her eyes.
My sister was my hero, and she didn’t even know it.
I hated that this kept happening, but I tried to shove it away to deal with later. She didn’t deserve for me to act weird around her because I kept thinking back to that day when we’d been kidnapped. Held hostage in a room—
No.
Stop thinking about that, Victoria!
