One of the butlers took the microphone stand and moved it all the way to the damn staircase even though no one had asked his ass! And I wanted to throw my shoe at him. But instead I walked over to it.
“Ladies and gentlemen…” It was already silent. “The celebrant has asked for my gift, and I, like many of you, wondered…what in the bloody hell am I going to give to a man who lives in a house like this?” I said and thankfully they laughed. “Since being engaged...”
Aka since Monday.
“I’ve thought of my father often. He’d call me Birdy, because while I was quite terrible at a lot of things, I could sing my lungs off, and so tonight, I offer this song to you, Ethan. Happy birthday.” I nodded at them, took a deep breath, and prayed that my father wasn’t lying!
ETHAN
What in the hell are you doing? Was my first thought when she left my side.
If you truly embarrass me, you’ll regret it. Was my second.
And then she began to sing…and I couldn’t think anymore. They’d called her an angel, a vision of beauty before, and I merely thought Nari did well. But the more I listened, the more…I…the more captivated I became. She gave me chills, made my throat dry, and my whole body ached for her…and not just me. Everyone was beyond transfixed. They were…we were paralyzed by her magnificence.
The way her blue eyes sparkled under the lights of the chandelier as she looked only at me, the way her body swayed, because even she couldn’t stop herself from being taken away by the song she sang, and each time she moved my eyes followed every curve of her body, from her hips to her breasts. Even the lips tempted, with every word she spoke.
Every time she said the words take my heart, it truly felt as if she were holding it up for me to take, and so I, who’d never once displayed any form of public affection, walked up to her when the ballad came to an end, stepping onto the stairs beside her, wrapped my arms around her waist, pulled her to me, and kissed her…with all the passion she’d just bestowed on me. Enjoying the way her body melted into mine and the taste of her tongue in my mouth, I wanted more…much more. The dress she wore frustrated me even more.
“Get a room!” The familiar voice of Darcy snapped me out of it.
Only our lips parting, I stared down at her, and she looked at me as if she had no idea what I was doing, like she hadn’t caused this.
“And now you all see why the wedding is so soon.” My grandmother laughed, saving us both. “Congratulations to you both on finding the other half of your heart,” she added, clapping, which caused the rest of them to clap as well.
I felt her try to step back…however, I didn’t let go.
My third thought finally came to me…
Mine. It was childish and simple, but sometimes one word was enough.
Ivy O’Davoren was mine, and now the whole world would know.
Luckily, between my grandmother, Dona, and her, most of their eyes were off me. Glancing over my shoulder, Greyson nodded, and I excused myself from their side. I walked with him toward the private section of the house. Parties like this were often used whenever other important business needed to be taken care of.
I stopped in front of Lisandro Castiglione’s The Redemption of Icarus, the painting my mother had commissioned for my grandmother, apparently to replace a painting she’d destroyed. Icarus flying at night above a sleeping world, the painting was simple…however, that was the point.
Reaching behind it, the small light of the scanner moved as it looked over my finger, before the painting slid to the right along with the door. Stepping through it, I saw all three of them waiting in my private den, sitting on my couch, drinking my wine, and smoking my Cubans, just laughing among themselves.
“Thank you for coming, gentlemen,” I said, taking a seat at the large chair, unbuttoning my jacket. “I’m sure you are all aware why I called you here—”
“Before we do, on behalf of us, many congrats on your wife. You did well with an Irish woman,” Frank McShane cut me off, grinning at the Italian man sitting across from him, sucking onto his pipe as if it were an oxygen mask.
“Fiancée,” Savino Moretti, Klarissa’s father, corrected.
It caused old man Mahoney to laugh, sitting up and blocking my face to say to them, “Look at that, boys, he’s all butt hurt, he ain’t get—”
Grabbing his glass, I slammed it against his fucking head. The glass shattered everywhere and blood dripped down the back of his head and even got on my hand. He grabbed the back of his head and moved back into his fucking place.
“Have I got your fucking attention now?” I looked them over…each one of them silent. Mahoney held on to the back of his head. “If you ever sit up in front of me again, I will rip your tongue from your mouth and have it shoved up your own ass.”
My eyes shifted to Frank. He took the pipe out of his mouth slowly.
“Let this be known and known well. My marriage does not bias me to either the Irish or the Italian families. The fact that you think a woman would be enough to influence me hurts, Frank, and when I hurt, everybody’s got to hurt.”
“I’m sorry—”
“Fuck your sorry and shut up.” I snapped, then turned to Savino. “Ivy O’Davoren, for all intents and purposes, is my wife. Which means you’ve insulted or threatened me. Either you believe I’m so fickle minded that I’d throw away women whom I’ve claimed, or you believe the woman I have claimed will not be around long enough to become my wife. Which I don’t see possible unless someone would try to do something very stupid. Are you planning on doing something very stupid, Savino?”
“No, sir—”
“Are you saying that I’m fickle?”
“No, I—”
“Then she’s my wife and you will respect that or you’ll end up in a much worse state than Mahoney here.” I looked back at Mahoney and the blood dripping down his neck. “Mahoney, you do know it’s rude to bleed on another man’s furniture, correct?”
“I’m sorry—”
“I don’t give a damn about your sorry. I want you to stop bleeding on my couch.”
He thought for a moment before taking off his jacket and draping it over the couch. When he was done I sat back.
“Can I continue what I was saying when I came in or would anyone else wish to disrespect me this evening?”
None of them spoke.
“Good.” Outstretching my hand, Greyson handed me the papers, which I simply threw onto the table in front of us. They were pictures of Sammy, along with two dozen people none of them knew.
“I don’t understand.” Frank lifted the photos.
“Greyson.” The moment I called him, he opened the second door of the den, allowing Toby to bring Sammy inside, who didn’t have a scratch, but looked ready to shit himself. Toby pushed him onto his knees next to my chair. “Sammy, tell your uncle what you did.”
Sammy dropped his head.
“Sammy? What did you do?” Frank pressed, but still the boy didn’t speak.
“Frank, you know how I hate when people ignore me when I speak,” I said calmly, taking the scotch Greyson handed me to drink.
“Sammy, this ain’t a game. Speak.”