Page 24 of Brutal Savage


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“Instead of being an uptight bitch all the time.” I break away, snatching the bottle from the railing and stalking back towards the crowd. I thought being out here would be better. Safer.

I was dead fucking wrong.

She doesn’t follow me. And I don’t want her to.

All I want is to be alone.

10

CARA

Standing there, chest heaving, I try to sort through my thoughts. One moment he has me trapped…and the next, he’s walking away, throwing an insult over his shoulder while he’s at it. His words sting more than I’d ever admit out loud. I have never met a more infuriating man in my entire life.

Instead of being an uptight bitch all the time.

I cannot marry this man. I would rather die.

My neck burns where he touched me, and I can still feel the ghost of his fingers around my throat. The minute he’d touched me, my mind had gone blank. Need had curled in my stomach the second I’d realized how close he was. His lips nearly brushed mine, the smell of whiskey nearly intoxicating. I’d been frozen, not out of fear, but out of want. Desire.

I almost believed he could be a decent human being. Until he opened his mouth again and ruined it all. How dare he? How dare he call me an uptight bitch just because I worked my ass off to keep my family strong? While he was out partying and screwing anything with a pulse, I was working. Studying. Doing everything my father asked of me.

Including this shitty marriage plan.

Storming back into the hall, I search for my father. My blood is near its boiling point, and my vision tinged red. Killian’s messing with me; I know that much. And I’m not about to marry a child who thinks he can play games with me. It doesn’t matter how hot he thinks he is—it’s not going to happen.

I find my father out in the foyer, talking to a man I know who owns half the high-end restaurants in Manhattan. Knowing it’s probably about distributing the beer, I hang back, fingers tapping along my arm as I wait. Men and women pass by, congratulating me or trying to pull me into a conversation, but I’m on a mission. As soon as my father claps the man on the back, I know he’s finished. Sidling up to him, I wait for him to acknowledge me.

“Ah, Cara. There you are. I was beginning to suspect you’d run off again.” He laughs as if he’d made a joke, but I can hear the underlying threat.

“I need to speak with you,” I say under my breath, shooting a smile to a couple nearby. “Please?”

My father sighs before turning towards the back of the building. Walking through the double doors, we find ourselves in a corridor that leads to the kitchens, storage rooms, and offices. The staff ignores us, though a few do send a couple of curious looks our way.

He turns to me, already looking as if he knows what I’m about to say. “Well…”

“I can’t marry him.”

My father doesn’t even hesitate. “Gobshite,” he snarls, “You can. And you will.” He begins to walk back through those doors.

“No, dad. Listen.” Grabbing his arm, I stop him, pulling him back around to face me. A warning flashes in his eyes. “Please.”

He turns around fully, arms crossing. “You have two minutes.”

I take a deep breath. My argument has to be strong. My father doesn’t exactly deal with emotions—only cold, hard facts. “The more I spend time with Killian, the more I believe he’s a security risk for our family. He’s stubborn. Hard-headed. And he thinks he knows everything. Having that kind of cocky attitude in our world can get us killed, you know that. He’s completely irresponsible, drinking an entire bottle tonight even. There has to be some other way. I just need more time to figure out another plan for us.”

“There’s no more time, Cara,” my father snaps. At my surprised look, he sighs.“You don’t understand the position we’re in. Our businesses are already banjaxed. There’s no repairin’ them.”

His words hit me like a freight train. “What?”

He continues as if he didn’t hear me, gazing down the hallway. “Several breweries across the country have already been forced to foreclose. Our stocks have been dropping by the minute, and we just don’t have the funds to pull ourselves out of this.” He turns to look at me. “That’s why you need to do this, Cara. The Rosania-Scarano family has already given enough money to save what’s left of our business. They’ve also helped with widening our distribution in New York City alone. With them on our side, tied to our family, we won’t ever have to worry about losing anything else.”

“I—” His words still aren’t processing. “How much did we lose?”

“Half the West Coast.”

I blink, stunned. That would be half of our national revenue. If we lost that, then…

My father nods as if he can read my thoughts. “Now you know.”

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