“Aye. I don’t steal everything I take a fancy to,” he protests, then mutters low enough that he thinks I can’t hear him. “But you’re sure making it hard not to.”
My forehead wrinkles in confusion at the weird remark, but I decide to just ignore him for the rest of our meal so he can feel the full weight of my disapproval of what he’s done. That painting should have stayed in a museum where art lovers all over the world could visit it and enjoy. Now it will be hung up in an old Irish boss’s office where no one will have access to it.
It’s more than a crime.
It’s downright heartbreaking.
I’m so consumed by my anger that I carelessly tip my wine glass all over myself.
Mierda!
“Oh, lass, don’t fret. I’m sure my Iris must have something that can fit you while I put your dress in the wash,” my mother-in-law says, getting out of her seat and urging me to do the same.
“Oh no, it’s fine. I don’t want to trouble you.”
“Never you mind. Family exists for that very reason. To be trouble.” She smiles widely, and my heart warms that at least she doesn’t hate me. Or if she does, she sure has me fooled. “Come now, girl. Let me take you upstairs so ye can change into some clean clothes.”
I offer her a genuine smile of my own and get up to follow her upstairs. I don’t even look at Tiernan, not wanting to see his face as I’ve just made a complete fool of myself the first time he brought me to his parents’ house. I’m usually not this clumsy, but because of the unsettling nerves at knowing Niall hates me, Shay’s blatant flirtation, or Colin having stolen that priceless piece of art, I’m a complete hot mess today.
“I’m not giving off a good first impression, am I?”
“Hush, girl. There is no need for such ceremony with me. With any of my boys, either.”
“Your husband might disagree with you.”
“Don’t pay Niall any mind. He just has to get used to you, that’s all.”
“Used to me? How can he do that when he leaves the room anytime I enter it?”
Saoirse smiles sadly at me, giving my shoulder a light squeeze.
“The Mafia Wars were hard on all fronts, Rosa. Unlike my boys, my Niall lived through most of it. It will take him some time to see you as I see you.”
“And how do you see me?”
“I see you like the daughter I just sent away. A poor girl whose future was stolen from her in the name of a ceasefire. It’s not your fault who your Da or brothers are, as much as it isn’t Iris’。 No. You girls are paying a hefty price, and I won’t make your life harder by blaming you for what you had no fault in.”
“Thank you,” I croak, unshed tears starting to blur my vision.
“No need for those either,” she says, wiping away at the tears that are relentless enough to fall. “Life goes on, lass. It all depends on what kind of life you want for yourself. Do you understand?”
“I think so, yes.”
“Good. Now go on inside. This is my Iris’ bedroom. I’m sure you’ll be able to find something that fits. If not, then I’m sure my Shay might have something you can borrow. A hoodie, at least.”
“Thank you,” I repeat, and I feel like I will say thank you to this woman many more times in the years to come.
I walk into my sister-in-law’s room and immediately I can tell that I am nothing like the girl that was sent away to Vegas to suffer under the Bratva’s ruling thumb. There are nunchucks, throwing stars, and a display of various knives and daggers all around the room. I don’t think Saoirse has come here since her daughter’s departure since there are clothes all over the floor and an empty cup from a coffee shop on the bedside table.
I walk over to her closet and see that her clothes are also much more adventurous than what I would wear. I try to find a top that would fit me, but unless I want to show the men downstairs a good portion of my cleavage or navel, then my best bet is to go over to Shay’s room and hope he has a hoodie I can borrow.
I walk back to the hall and start to open the bedroom door right across from Iris’s bedroom, hoping that one is Shay’s.
But before I’m even able to crack the door open, a dark shadow looming in the hallway prevents me from doing so.
“What are you doing?” Tiernan asks, his hands balled into fists at his sides.
“I was looking—”
“You were snooping,” he accuses before I have time to explain.
“No, I wasn’t. I was looking for a hoodie. I thought this might be Shay’s room. Or Colin’s.”