Page 21 of Forget
I’ll sit and listen to any stories they want to tell me.
They’re in a car with Hayes following us, since no one was allowed to stay behind for this meeting. I also know for a fact that my grandmother has a gun and a knife hidden in the pockets of her dress. I love knowing that she’s such a badass.
“Thanks, Dad. So can I quit my therapist?” I ask, grinning.
I’m not seriously asking for permission. I already told Dr. Hikson that I wouldn’t be returning now that I’ve completed my third appointment with him. Yes, I’m going once a week to these torture sessions. I’ve given this man a thorough chance.
He told me that quitters don’t live for long, especially omegas, and that he looked forward to reading my obituary. Asshole.
“I have a feeling you don’t need my permission,” Dad says, chuckling. “You already told the man to shove it where the sun wouldn’t shine, didn’t you?”
“Absofuckinglutely,” I tell him happily as we approach the beautifully lit estate. The gardens roll out around us as the driver slowly drives up the driveway, following the other cars.
The home is made of brick and white columns, with stairs leading to the blue painted door. The place looks like it’s easy to protect because of the lack of entrances up front. I can also see guards out in the darkness, their heads moving on a swivel.
“Who’s idea was it to use the Kelly estate?” I ask softly. I’ve been studying up the last few days on who everyone is. If I’m going to be getting to know people, I don’t want to piss someone off because I got their name wrong.
I also know my father is an important member of the families. I don’t want to fuck this up.
“Theirs,” he says. “It’s set up for parties and protection. While the meeting is happening, I want you to mingle in the courtyard and gardens. It’ll be warm, I promise.”
My lips twitch because he knows exactly how to sweet talk me. Nodding, I wait for the guard and driver to open our doors and help us out. I ignore the heavy gaze boring into my back as I walk up to the house, because I know it’s Hayes. I hope he trips on something and shoots his dick off.
“Mr. Sullivan,” the man at the door says, nodding respectfully. Dad introduces me, ushering me inside, so I’m notstanding in the cold air. While they take our coats and my father hands over his weapons, I count them all.
I know for a fact that he still has a gun in an ankle holster and another hidden under his jacket. They aren’t frisking him because it would be rude. I smirk in my mind, tickled by the mafia world’s etiquette. As long as nothing bad happens, this prep is just practice. I can’t shrug off the bad feeling I have now that I’m here though.
I watch everyone as I walk into the ballroom with my father, listening to the speech discussing how we’re here due to a turf war between two brothers. God, I wonder about all the bullshit in between that led to this. Does it happen to have anything to do with an omega?
Seems like an awful lot of work not to be over a broken heart.
Exchanging a glance with my father, I walk to the courtyard, knowing I have a beta guard trailing me. It doesn’t bother me in the least, because it’s extra protection, not because I’m not capable of doing it myself.
There are a lot of people I only know by sight out here. Dad quizzed me to make sure I’d be able to hold a conversation with anyone who wants one, but there are a few people I don’t know.
The next hour passes quickly as I chat, until I see Reagan attempting to torture someone with her presence.
Her mother already made the rounds before her in front of the group, and it appears to have been a pleasant experience. One of Jodi Ryan’s alphas is the one who spoke earlier, discussing how it was their duty to mend the rift between Corbin and Crowson Murphy. He’s a big wig in the mafia families, which I’m sure everyone here knows.
As Reagan’s fake smile spreads across her lips, I creep closer to the group to find out what idiocy she’s spreading. Her tone changes quickly to outrage as it’s clear the group surrounding the two omegas in front of me aren’t taking her shit.
“Excuse me?! How dare you speak to me like that?—” Reagan squeals as I roll my eyes and pull the knife from between my breasts.
Nothing like making an entrance. My knife finds its way to the small of her back, giving just enough pressure for Reagan to know I’m there. She's already turning a worrying shade of red in her outrage. May as well intervene.
“Reagan, I will cut you and then tell your mama you deserved it,” I growl.
The omegas gaze wide eyed at the interruption, holding hands as they watch me. The male is a redhead with green eyes, and is wearing a black suit with suspenders. He’s adorable and smells like custard and chocolate.
My gel is firmly in place under my nose, but it only works for alphas. I don’t typically need it for anyone else. The other female omega is wearing a gorgeous lace and mesh corset dress with her hair up, and a wicked thigh slit coming up high on one of her legs.
I wonder if she has weapons hiding underneath all of that material, and I find myself wanting to protect them both from my cousin and her wicked fucking tongue.
“Aisling,” Reagan whines, inadvertently introducing me. I don’t know them, so it works for me. “You’re hurting me.”
“Good. Get the fuck out, and stop bugging people,” I grunt, over her shit.
Pulling away, Reagan stomps away, and I put away the huge knife down the sheath between my breasts. I don’t mind revealing a trick or two. Dad had this sheath made for me since I couldn’t find any online. We’ve survived things that are much more awkward than this, after all.