Page 2 of Keeping Katie
“So you just don’t bring them here? Are you ashamed of us? We wouldn’t be mean to anyone.”
My gut twists, and I sit up straighter. “Why the hell would I be ashamed of you girls? Who the fuck made you even think such a thing?”
Cali isn’t used to me snapping at her. None of the women are, actually. That’s usually left for Kieran or Ronan to do. Sometimes Killian.
“No one did. I just don’t know why you haven’t brought anyone to the estate to meet us. We’d welcome anyone you dated into our circle. We just want all of you guys to be happy. You’re a good man, Grady. You deserve to be loved just as much as anyone else.”
Jesus, fuck. Cali is pulling all the emotional strings today. Reaching out, I wrap my fingers around her ankle and squeeze. “When I meet the right one, I’ll introduce her to you girls. I’m not ashamed of you. Although I am a little concerned your naughtiness might rub off on another woman.”
The light in her eyes begins to flicker again. “It’s not naughtiness, it’s charisma. Duh, silly.”
I wink at her and set my drink on the table next to the couch. “If you say so, Little one. Go to sleep. Your Daddy is going to be mad at me if you don’t get enough rest.”
She turns her attention to the TV and clutches the stuffed wolf to her chest. She’ll be out in no time, and when Declan gets home, he’ll carry her up to bed like he always does.
A few minutes pass, the laugh track of the show permanently ingrained in my mind. She nudges me with her toe again. I turn my head to look at her, she smiles softly.
“Love you, Grady. Thanks for putting up with me and my bullshit all the time.”
It takes a second and several swallows before I give her a slight nod. “Love you too, Little one. And no cursing. Go ni-night.”
With a sigh, she closes her eyes. It only takes minutes before her breathing evens out and her arms go slack. I’m left staring at her while replaying our conversation in my head.
At my age, I should have settled down with someone. Being in the mafia and living a long life aren’t two things that typically go together. If mob statistics were a thing, I’d probably be considered past middle age even though I’m only in my early forties. Maybe it’s time that I get serious about finding my special person.
I always thought it would happen naturally. That when I found the one, I’d know it. That’s how it was for my best friends. Just because it went that way for them doesn’t mean it will for me, though. If I don’t do something about it, I’m going to end up old and lonely, and my balls might actually end up falling off. I can’t let that happen. I like my balls.
That only means one thing, I guess. I need to start looking for my Little girl.
“Wait, can we sit at that table over there?”
I glance at my date, the hair on the back of my neck prickling. From the moment I picked her up, I’ve been ready to take her home again. Why the fuck did I think trying to date was a good idea? It’s a terrible fucking idea. The worst. This is a huge mistake.
The hostess glances at me for permission, but I give a slight shake of my head. “Take us to our reserved table.”
Sharleen, my date and pain in the ass for the evening, lets out a whine of protest that sounds like nails on a chalkboard. “I want to sit out here, where we can see people and they can see us.”
Of course she does. She wants everyone who’s anyone to see her with a billionaire so she can brag about it to all her friends. This date is nothing more than a way to gain clout within her social circle. I may not be a celebrity, but I’m well known in the community of wealth in Seattle. So are Declan, Killian, Bash, Kieran, and Ronan. For many reasons.
I met Sharleen a year or so ago at a party. She seemed cool, non-clingy, and like she had her shit together. Then we ran into each other again recently at Chloe and the other girls’ influencer launch party for their makeup line. Again, she seemed cool. But after catching up in the car tonight on the way to the restaurant, I realized I’d been fooled. She’s already talking about going to the Caribbean together. On my dime, of course.
“We’re going to the table in the back. It’s quieter and safer,” I say dryly.
From the way her eyes bulge, it’s obvious she hadn’t thought about the potential danger of being with me. Being in the mobisn’t all fun and games. We’re always on edge. Always ready for danger.
As soon as we’re seated, she snaps her fingers at the hostess. “I’d like a Cosmopolitan.”
Running my tongue over my teeth, I force myself to stay quiet. If she were my girl talking to someone like that, I’d haul her ass into the bathroom and spank her until she was sorry and regretful. But she’s not mine and she never will be. Not in this lifetime and not in the next, either.
I offer a tight smile to the hostess as an apology before she scurries away, leaving me alone with this awful person.
“So, do you live in a penthouse around here? Maybe somewhere close?” She rubs her foot up my calf, and my stomach revolts. That’s what she wants to know? If I live in a penthouse?
My neck is so tight it’s painful. This was a huge mistake. I can’t believe I did this. All because Cali was worried about me not dating and wanted to set me up on a dating site. I’m almost regretting not letting her do it because I’d bet a million dollars that whatever date Cali would arrange for me would be more enjoyable than this.
“No penthouse.” I sit back and cross my arms over my chest.
Her shoulders drop, and she pops her lip out in a forced pout that isn’t the least bit cute. “Oh. Well, a mansion, then?”