DECEPTION | MAFIA ROMANCE | SMUT

CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE

My soft gaze thanked him for the intercedence. A diversion from the topic is all it took for tears to subside. Getting through the rest of brunch without crying in my father's presence will be a miracle.

A team of waiters cleared the table, replacing dinnerware with flutes of non-alcoholic champagne and miniature iced cakes with edible flowers.

I was in the middle of knifing through an ombré layered cupcake when Big Guy's hand found my knee underneath the table. Then, slowly, almost tortuously, his ring-laden fingers coasted the mere skin of my inner thigh.

My breath abandoned me.

Peacefulness amongst the Hughes family lulled me into a false sense of security. I allowed his crafty behaviour to go unnoticed because the shiver of happiness I felt outweighed the state of being sensible.

My frozen stare lowered to my lap, where Big Guy's large hand rested on my thigh. The onyx bead bracelet is clasped to his wrist, and I wondered if he'd worn it every day since the night I gave it to him or if he'd only recently decided to match it with his attire.

"I hate your father," he said too quietly for anyone else to overhear. "His truculent asperity is ruffling the wrong feathers." His finger tapped my thigh rapidly to ease feelings of irritation. "I am not as patient as the others."

I had to quell the morass of disputes before the family brunch was marked by violent controversy. "Ignore him," I whispered, and he tsked in disapproval. "Martin is already walking on eggshells, trying to keep the peace."

Mary chuckled in the background.

"I will not be the reason for my brother's despondency." With a quick sip of faux champers, I nibbled on a piece of richly flavoured cake. "You understand."

"No, I do not understand, actually," he argued logically rather than emotionally. "You know, I have many questions about this weekend, but the one that sticks out the most is your father's attendance. I find it completely unfathomable that anyone would invite him to family gatherings."

How could I argue with facts?

"He does not deserve to be here." His eyes toggled between amatory and mischievous. "Just say the word, Sweetheart."

I felt a wave of queasiness. "What do you propose?"

"I can wipe him off the face of the earth," he said darkly, and I regarded him with a gasp of horror. "I am not joking, Emma."

"I know." Hence the blow of ominousness threw me off balance. "No, I do not want the unspeakable on my conscience." At least, I think that's the correct answer. It would be morally discreditable and downright unforgivable to tell everyone how I really felt. "Let's save threats for the malefactors of the world, shall we?"

Big Guy shot me a double-take. "You are too nice for your own good."

"By sparing someone's life?"

"By letting people trample all over you."

God, he is impossible. Not everyone is born to be a hitman with psychotic tendencies. I would probably never sleep again if the syndicate carried out my father's murder.

"I would never!" Mary is embroiled in light-hearted banter with Benjamin. "You only know what you think you know, brother. Tell him, Patty."

"Enough." Hamish's mug slammed on the table dissonantly, spilling hot tea over his rigid fingers. "You continue to make a mockery out of this family." He pointed a contumelious finger at my sister. "I never stood for it then. I will not stand for it now."

Everyone sat around the table in stunned silence. I, on the other hand, predicted this problem long before it rose to the surface because it would be uncharacteristic for this unbearable man to sit with his so-called children and not lose his cool.