Page 65 of Ruthless Dream

“Wanted to see if you were available for dinner this week?”

He’s talked about grabbing dinner since I got here. I never actually thought an invitation would materialize, though, this still leaves room for him to flake out at the last minute.

“I’ve got a lot going on.” I’m not being petulant. “I’ve got Leon’s coming up.”

Da’s laugh sounds like a ‘woo-hoo,’ a perfectly annoying trinkle. “I am so looking forward to it.”

I don’t have to see him to know he’s shaking a fist in the air, his boundless, drunken energy keeping him afloat.

Of course the fight at Leon’s would be the one place he shows up to support me. It’ll be a hive of people we know, an opportunity for him to show me off as if he had any role in my upbringing.

“How about the week after that?” Da offers. “Let’s have a sit down, you and I and Walsh.”

And Walsh? My eyebrows smush together as I frown. “What?”

“Yeah,” Da ambles on. “Walsh would like to do dinner.”

It’s the only reason Da is calling. Not because of a father and son dinner but because Walsh, the head of the Irish Mafia, is requesting a sit down meeting.

“And Uncle Cormac?”

Da clicks his tongue. “Just us lads, you know.”

As if we’re just popping off to the pub with Walsh of all people.

“Dad, I. . .” Part of me wants to believe it’s just a friendly dinner. But it’s one thing if Da is showing off in front of his boss, a fine father figure. Except Walsh is the one who wants to do dinner.

And only with me.

“Da,” I try again. “It’s sort of a packaged deal. Me and Uncle Cormac.”

“My son who’s been making friends left and right since he got here, doesn’t want a meeting with Walsh?”

I’m walking a tightrope, and we both know it. “I’d hope Walsh understands loyalty.”

For the first time in my life, Da doesn’t have a ready-made reply.

There’s something like a sigh, and then his chipper voice bounces back. “Right. See you at the fight, son!”

“What was that?”

I turn to find Cormac standing in the doorway. Seamus shoves his phone back in his pocket.

“Have him tell you about his girl problems,” he says as he steps around Uncle Cormac.

The man frowns at me.

“Seamus doesn’t know his head from his arse.” I roll my eyes. “And that was just my da being his usual self. He’s going to be at the fight.”

Cormac nods. “Good. He needs to see that you’re a winner. What’s this about Adeline, then?”

Her name glides smoothly out of his mouth like she’s someone we commonly refer to.

“Nothing. Seamus is just talking shit.” I don’t hide shit from Uncle Cormac. I kept the relationship private at first because after I took out Jack, I didn’t want anything to blow up in the O’Connell’s faces. Yesterday’s fight with Adeline is also out of bounds. Something between me and her and, apparently, her millions of Instagram followers.

Cormac continues to study me until his phone rings. He gives me one last fatherly look as if to say he knows everything. It’s the same face he used to make when he caught me trying to steal cookies as a kid.

As soon as he’s gone, I check Adeline’s location again. She’s back at her dorm. But thirty minutes later the dot travels in a direction I know well.