He raises a brow, "You sure about that?"
I glare at him, of course I'm not fucking sure. But they'd be dead by the end of it. "Fuck, I need a drink."
"You need to get your dick wet."
I grit my teeth, trying not to kill my brother.
"You never know when to shut the fuck up do you, Romero?" Alessio grins.
Romero shrugs, "I'm going to die someday."
I ignore their stupidity and turn my eyes to the women that are around the bar, some have their heads down, others giving me the fuck me eyes. None of them hold my attention for very long.
Romero lets out a low whistle. "Fucking finally," he mutters and my gaze follows his where two women have just walked into the bar. There's a busty brunette who's wearing a tight pink dress and matching heels, but it's her friend that I'll be fucking by the end of the night. Black leather pants look as though they've been painted onto her, black boots that reach her knee and a red fucking top that clings to every curve of her body. Her blonde hair is curled, falling around her neck and down past her breasts. Both walk in as though they own the place, heads held high as they saunter toward the bar. The barman's eyes widen but he serves them.
They find a corner in the bar and stay there, the girls don't care about the appreciative looks that they're getting. Not once have they glanced around the bar to see who's here. Fucking stupid.
"How the hell are they not surrounded by now?" Alessio muses and I agree, not that I'd admit it. They've been left alone even though their beauty by far outshines any other women.
The night wears on and the women haven't so much as looked at anyone in the bar. It's pissing Romero off that they haven't glanced at him, he wants the brunette.
My hand reaches for my gun when I hear a man growl, "Bitch!" Three fucking Russians stalk toward the women. I'm slightly impressed that both women stand and glare at the Bratva bastards. Fucking hell, they have a death wish.
One of the Russians backhand the brunette viciously making her fall backward to the floor. The blonde woman steps forward and raises her brow. Jesus Christ. The hum of bikes is in the far distance. I watch as she tells the Russian that he's a dead man, before one of the other Russians punches her in the ribs, knocking the breath from her lungs. She doesn't back down, she stands tall and glares at the Russians.
Alessio, Romero, and I get to our feet, I notice the barman is tense, his eyes on the girls. The rumble of bikes grow closer, they're outside. Within seconds, eight fucking bikers walk in. The women sigh and turn to the door where the bikers have their eyes on them, the blonde steps back, whereas the brunette takes a step toward them.
"Which one?" the biker asks and the brunette smirks as she slides her eyes to the guy that backhanded her. "Time for you to go home," he tells her and she nods, the blonde steps toward her and they walk past us. One of the bikers grabs a hold of the blonde’s arm and pulls her toward him. "You good?" he asks, his eyes taking her in and for some reason I want to rip his fucking hand of her.
She steps out of his hold. "No worries, Ace, I'm grand," she says with her thick velvety Irish accent.
"You sure."
She nods. "Positive."
The biker regards her closely, "Time for you to go on home." I can't make out the blonde's reaction to his demand but I see the smirk on his face. "Before your brothers catch you here."
Her bell like laughter rings out and I feel it in my gut. What the fuck is going on? "Come on, Kinsley," the blonde laughs, "before your brother starts to lecture us."
The biker grins as the girls leave the bar. His eyes narrow in on me, a warning in his eyes. He nods to his brothers and they pick up the asshole that backhanded his sister and the other two fuckers that are with him.
"What the fuck was that about?" Romero asks as he makes his way out of the bar behind the bikers.
I have no fucking idea.
"Are you ready for this?" Romero asks and I glare at him.
"Of course he's ready," my father says and I shift my glare to him, unlike my brother he doesn't back down. "War between the families has been going on for decades, this wedding is finally a way to bring peace." It's a warning. He's telling me not to fuck up.
"I know my duty, Father," I say through clenched teeth.
"The wedding is in three days, Dante. One mistake and we'll pay dearly."
I don't answer him, instead I keep my gaze firmly in front of me. Seamus, Finn, Patrick, and Cian Gallagher stand at their door, all of their eyes on us. Seamus glares at my father, whereas the Gallagher brother’s death glares are aimed at me.
"Do they really think they can out shoot us?" Alessio comments as he takes in the guards that surround the monstrosity of the Gallagher Mansion. The Fucking Irish don't do things small by any means. They're flashy assholes.
Our father gives Alessio a harsh look, we've seen that look a thousand times. It doesn't work on any of us. Not anymore. "Enough of your shit," he demands.
We walk toward the Gallagher's, none of us are happy about this but right now, we've got to deal with it. "Gentleman," Seamus calls out and I grit my teeth.
"Where is she?" My father asks, with a bite to his tone.
Christ.
"She'll be here soon. Right now, we've got some things to iron out." Seamus' eyes are hard as he glares at my father.
As Capo, my father leads. I, as his capo bastone, or Underboss as most call it, follow. Although, if I have anything to say about it, Romero will be my capo bastone when I become the Capo. My father's time has come to an end and it's only a matter of time before he meets his. My father is a monster, we all are; it’s who we are. But unlike my father, I'm not a fucking monster to those closest to me. I protect those that are and retaliate against those that hurt them.
My father nods, that's his signal that we're to follow the Gallagher's into the lion’s den. My father first, followed closely behind by me and then my brothers, our men hidden around the perimeter of the Gallagher mansion. Seamus and his sons lead us toward his office. I haven't been here since we agreed that I'd marry his only daughter, Makenna. She was fourteen when I last saw her, over five years ago. She was small and scrawny, pretty in an innocent way but I didn't pay too much attention. I'm not into kids and Makenna certainly was a child. I'm curious to see how she's changed.
Seamus opens the door to his office and I see that nothing’s changed since I was here last. The huge mahogany desk takes up half the fucking office. Yet again, it makes me wonder why they have to try and be so flashy, are they trying to make up for something?
My father takes a seat and I take the one beside him, both my brothers and the Gallagher brothers continue to stand.
"This is a waste of our time," my father grits out. We had come under the impression that we'd be seeing Makenna today, instead, we're going into his office to fucking chitchat.
"My daughter’s well-being—" Seamus begins, "—is not a waste of time," he growls. This is the first time that I've seen this side to him. Usually he's calm and composed. Sitting across from me now isn't the Ceannaire ar chách, instead he's a dangerous man who's determined to make sure that I look after his daughter.