"Apparently," Junior muttered, eying me warily.
That was when purpose flooded me. A sense of direction that helped me clamber to my knees. I ignored the blood, ignored the mess of my office, instead, I demanded, "It’s time to open my Christmas gift, boys."
And time to make one sick bastard pay.
Ho, ho, fucking ho.
Thirty-Three
Savannah
With Jen in the bathroom, and all the other women assigned tasks that were more appropriate for people not wearing Valentino suits—seriously, why hadn’t Aidan told me this was an informal get together? He’d been wearing a suit, so I’d dressed up as well. Men, FML—I was out of it while also in my element.
Observing was what I did best, and as I sat there, watching Lena direct the troops that were her daughters-in-law, a grandson who was more interested in looking down Victoria’s blouse, Inessa and Camille’s sister, while blushing whenever Inessa talked to him, and Aoife who took it all in stride while doing most of the work, I absorbed the moment.
Yes, I had stars in my eyes.
These were the people I’d been investigating my whole life.
I was under their roof.
I was inside their kitchen.
I was going to break bread with them.
This was turning biblical, and all without me schtupping one of their sons.
When a cup of coffee was placed in front of me, I shot a smile at Camille who, rubbing a hand over her forehead, took a seat at my side.
She was sweaty and flour-covered, and when she took a sip of her drink, she sighed like she’d been working down a coal mine.
Not that I could judge—I was tired just watching all the women work.
The orgasms Aidan had given me had definitely stunned the shit out of me, but so was being breathless, which was why his necktie now graced the trash can in the bathroom.
Squirming while around his family wasn’t something I’d try again. Especially not when Lena kept glowering at me.
"She’s a hard taskmaster," Camille commented quietly, her smile warm. Welcoming. Kind.
Was it horrible that I’d never imagined a Bratva Pakhan’s daughter being kind?
Now I knew how David Attenborough felt in the wilds of Africa, monitoring lions and lionesses in their natural habitat. Although, I didn’t imagine those lions ate a lot of Beef Wellington with special, home-made cranberry sauce.
"She looks like it," I agreed. "I’m not sure whether I want to smack Aidan for failing to tell me that I’m overdressed, or relieved that I am."
Camille grinned. "He probably did it to save you from having to cook. Brennan wasn’t so kind to me." Her nose crinkled. "I quite enjoy it though."
"You do?" I asked dubiously. "You’re all sweaty."
"I’m not very good in the kitchen, but I like learning."
"What are you cooking?"
"All kinds of things. You know Brennan and I are married, yeah?"
"Well, news hasn’t hit Page 6 yet, but that rock on your finger gave it away." Plus, of course, Lena had said that Brennan’s marriage had caused a ruckus with his father. I wasn’t a journalist for nothing.
She hummed, but she played with the massive gemstone. "Lena was hard on me too at first, just so you know. I’m sure she’ll warm up to you soon. It helps that you didn’t lie to her."
"Men, right?" I clucked my tongue. "Why on earth Aidan would think starting my relationship with his parents with that lie between us would work is beyond me."
Camille chuckled. "I think it was more the desperate act of a man who was trying to shield you from his mother. She can be brutal when she wants to be."
"You know her well?" I asked, curious because if she did know Lena well, it meant the Bratva and Irish Mob had been friends longer than they’d let on to the public.
As far as I knew, a truce had been drawn when Inessa had married Eoghan. They said the Irish had colluded with the Russians to take down the Colombians who’d been behind the drive-by shooting that had wrecked Aidan’s knee, but I wasn’t sure how accurate a depiction that was yet.
Most of what I knew was from secondhand reports.
That I was sitting with someone who was a source made me salivate.
"Not particularly, but recently, I think all of her daughters-in-law have grown closer."
I tipped my head to the side. "Do you mind me asking why? Because, to be frank, I need me some of that."
"You’re truly with Aidan?"
"Well, yeah, that’s why I’m here."
"No, I mean, you’re with him. Seriously?" Her look was measured, and I got the sense that she wasn’t going to tell me shit unless I flashed an engagement ring in her face.
"Well, I’d like to be. I mean, I love him if that counts."
Camille’s mouth quirked up at the corners. "It counts. I do not know him well, not like Inessa, and she said that she hasn’t seen him laugh in many moons."
"He’s in pain," I excused. "I knew him before. He was... different back then. I like this new Aidan to be honest."
"Why? In what way is he different?"
"I mean, don’t get me wrong. He’s arrogant now, and he’s got a bit of an ego. I’m not blind—but that’s part of the problem. If I were a guy and I looked like him, I’d be egotistical too."
Camille snorted. "And you’re not beautiful?"
"Well, he’s Aidan O’Donnelly." I drooled. "I mean, he’s Aidan frickin’ O’Donnelly."
She blinked. "I don’t understand?"
I wafted a hand. "Some kids have rock stars, some have authors, I fangirl for mobsters."
A snicker escaped her. "Seriously?"
I grimaced. "I promise, it’s loaded in psychoses."
"Is that supposed to be reassuring? That it comes therapist-approved?"
"I might not see a therapist," I pointed out, even though I had two therapists.
"You’re Dagger Daniels’ daughter," she countered with a laugh. "Of course you have a therapist."
"I feel pigeonholed," I complained. "I don’t think you should only drink vodka because you’re Russian."
She grinned. "I do drink vodka. A lot. Just not in front of my mother-in-law."
"That’s very smart thinking." We both shared a laugh. "Anyway, Aidan is Aidan. But before, he was, well, a fuck boy."
"I don’t mean to be rude, but he still is, isn’t he?"
While I couldn’t get mad when Aidan and I had basically claimed each other within a period of time that could still be counted in hours, I sniped, "They all are. They can be reformed, can’t they?"
"True." She smiled at me. "Okay, you passed the test."
"I did?"
"Yep, you’d have blown smoke up my ass if you were just gossiping. Instead, you were really pissed at me just then." She laughed. "I deserved it, but still, you’re authentic."
"A lot of people would say I’m more brass balls than authentic."
"I saw what happened on TVGM. I think it’s disgusting what they did to you. I was so glad when you smacked him in the balls." Her smile turned sheepish. "I wasn’t sure I’d have the courage to ever do anything like that."