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I can feel the blush redden my face as I stare back down at the floor. Thankful that the doorbell goes off a few seconds later.
As Bella and Felicity race to see who can open the door first, I let out a long sigh. Arms wrap themselves around my waist, and I lean against Arnie’s chest.
“You look pretty when you blush,” he whispers in my ear—effectively deepening the redness.
I pull away in an attempt to ignore him. I try to distract myself with my phone, pulling out the charging cable from behind the couch and plugging it in.
“You know what I just realized,” Arnie says conversationally as he watches me get comfortable.
“What?”
“I never got your number.”
I roll my eyes. “Well, you better be nice to me, or else I won’t give it to you.”
“Noted,” he teases.
“I can’t believe my phone’s been dead for so long,” I sigh as the phone logo finally lights up the screen. “I was so addicted to this thing.”
“Maybe it’s a good thing to cut down on your screen time,” Arnie shrugs. “I mean, if you’re committing to the no alcohol thing, maybe we could-”
He stops mid-sentence, looking at my suddenly pale face.
“How… how did she get my number?” I whisper.
“What’s wrong?” There’s an urgency in his voice that I can’t ignore.
“It’s Eda. She wants to meet.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Roisin
Walking into the bar Eda picked for us is like stepping into a fairytale. The ceiling is almost entirely covered in vines and cascading greenery. The architecture itself looks like it was carved by the ancient Greeks themselves, and the gentle sound of the waterfall at the far end of the seating area only adds to the magic.
Arnie had dropped me off reluctantly. He’d told me what he knew of the cartel matriarch, which was surprisingly little, and warned me to stay alert.
Although I asked him to trust me, I don’t doubt he’s circling the venue like a hawk right about now.
But after meeting with my sister… My resolve to no longer be kept in the dark has only grown. And Eda, despite her forwardness, seems like a good place to start.
The woman in question is already seated near the bar. Her graying hair is smoothed over one shoulder, accentuating an outfit that immediately makes me feel underdressed. But she doesn’t seem to care.
“Roisin!” she cries out when she spots me. “You came.”
“You look well,” I comment politely as I remove my jacket and take a seat next to her.
“Dos negroni sbagliati, gracias,” Eda turns to the bartender, showing him two fingers.
“Oh, actually. I’m not drinking at the moment.”
The bartender hesitates, but Eda waves him away. “Nonsense. I will not drink alone.”
“It’s very kind of you, but—”
“Let me spoil you,mi hija,” she interrupts firmly. “It has been too long since I’ve had the chance.”
Realizing this isn’t a battle I’m going to win, I merely look away—pretending to examine the opulent interior when, in reality, I’m soothing the growing panic in my chest.
