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“Don’t mind her,” Kimmy purrs. “She doesn’t get out much.”
The man’s eyes slowly travel down the black pencil dress I’d slipped on earlier tonight, pausing at the square neckline before plunging down. I burn beneath his gaze, feeling the heat rising in my cheeks. I know this is usual club behavior, but that doesn’t mean he can be a pig about it.
“My eyes are up here,” I say coldly.
Those stormy eyes flick back up to meet mine. Sparks light up down my spine. “I know.” His voice is smoother than velvet, husky and dark. “But it’s not your eyes I’m interested in.”
Sadie bristles beside me. “Alright then. Nice meeting you.” She shoots him a smile while tugging both Kimmy and me away, despite the former’s protests.
“Why would you do that?” Kimmy strains to look back at the bar, but the man has disappeared. “That was the finest man I’ve seen in a long time.”
“I’m sure you’ll find another,” Sadie replies dryly.
“He definitely seemed like a misogynistic ass,” I add.
Kimmy huffs. “I don’t care about his personality. That’s definitely not what I was after.”
Sadie and I exchanged looks. If we were to vote for who would be the least likely to get married—it would be Kimmy. She wasn’t too concerned about finding a life partner. To her, most men encroached on her total freedom to do whatever she damn well pleased.
Sadie says something in response, though I can’t hear much over the music or the men talking loudly behind me. I freeze when they mention one name.
Scarano.
Tuning out my friends, I step back just a tiny bit, straining to hear the men behind me over the thumping bass of the club. Which wasn’t too hard considering they were nearly shouting to be heard over the music.
“The latest Scarano club was attacked the other night,” one growled. “Killian’s pissed. Questioning everyone.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised if it were the damn Irish,” his friend says darkly. I bristle at that. We did no such thing.
Or, at least, I don’t think we did.
“It could have been bloody anyone. The Russians, the cartel, the gangs…they’re all just waiting for the Rosania-Scarano family to slip up at some point.”
“Like Dante or Sienna would ever let that happen again.”
I know those names. Last year, there was a hell of a mess with the Italians. They’d been under attack by someone who called himself the Snake. My father had wanted to stay out of it, hoping the Italians would wipe themselves out and leave the rest of the city to us. That clearly hadn’t happened, and now they were back stronger than ever. It was a pain in my father’s ass—one he ranted about almost daily.
Because if anyone hated the Italians, it was the Irish.
We’d been here first, coming over long before the Sicilians had. But they’d stolen everything from us. There’s been a tentative peace for the last few years, but those never lasted long.
“You know it won’t be either of them who ruins the family. It’s that younger brother they need to watch for.”
“Ah, right. The kid.” One of the men chuckles. “Apparently, he’s changed.”
Another snorts. “I’ll believe it when I see it. He’s always at the clubs these days. Running around like he owns the places.”
“Which, he does. Most of them,” another points out helpfully.
I turn slightly, angling my body towards the men behind me. I didn’t know much about the youngest Scarano brother other than what people said about him. To be honest, he’d never been on my radar after my father told me he wasn’t involved with the Italian business. Now, apparently, he was. Probably thanks to his older brother.
“The day that kid becomes a man is the day I stop drinking,” the middle man jokes. He chugs his beer to prove it. As the glass tips back down, he catches my eye.
I jerk away, pretending to be invested in whatever wild story Kimmy’s telling us now. But I can feel the men watching me, the weight of their gaze heavy on the back of my neck. I shiver, taking a sip of the beer I’m still holding.
And cringe. I’d been right. This was a terrible choice. Our beers are better.
There’s movement behind me. Out of the corner of my eye, I watch as the men head towards the bar. I watch as they lean closer before all four turn my way, gesturing.
