Brutal Prince (Brutal Birthright)

“You’re the one who got him in that mess to start with,” Nero hisses at me. “Now we’re going to clean it up. And you’re staying here.”

He shoulder-checks me on his way by, knocking me roughly against the wall.

Dante is marginally kinder, but equally serious.

“Stay here,” he says. “Don’t make this worse.”

I don’t give a shit what they say. The moment they leave, I’m out the door, too. So I follow them up the stairs, not knowing exactly what I’m going to do, but knowing I’m not going to be left here waiting like a naughty puppy.

But before Dante is even halfway up the stairs, his phone buzzes in his pocket.

He picks up, saying, “What is it?” in a tone that makes me certain that it’s Papa on the other end of the line.

Dante waits, listening, for a long time. Then he says, “I understand.”

He hangs up. He’s looking at me with the strangest expression on his face.

“What is it?” Nero says.

“Take off that vest,” Dante says to Nero. “Aida, go change your clothes.”

“Why? Into what?”

“Something clean that doesn’t look like shit,” he snaps at me. “Do you own anything like that?”

Maybe. Possibly not, by Dante’s standards.

“Fine,” I say. “But where are we going?”

“We’re going to meet with the Griffins. Papa said to bring you.”

Well. Shit.

I didn’t much enjoy my last meeting with Callum Griffin.

I’m really not looking forward to a second. I doubt his temper was improved by a swim in the lake.

And what to wear to such an event?

I think the only dress I own is the Wednesday Adams costume I wore last Halloween.

I settle on a gray turtleneck and slacks, even though it’s too hot for that, because it’s about the only thing I have that’s sober and clean.

When I pull the shirt over my head, it sets the knot on the back of my skull throbbing again, reminding me how Callum Griffin shoved me aside like a rag doll. He’s strong under that suit. I’d like to see him face off against Dante or Nero—when he doesn’t have his bodyguard along for the ride.

That’s what we should do—tell them we want a meeting, then ambush the motherfuckers. Callum had no problem attacking us on the pier. We should return the favor.

I’m amping myself up the whole time I’m getting dressed, so I’m practically vibrating with tension by the time I slide into the back of Dante’s Escalade.

“Where are we meeting them?” I ask him.

“At The Brass Anchor,” Dante says shortly. “Neutral ground.”

It only takes a few minutes to drive to the restaurant on Eugenie Street. It’s past midnight now, and the building is dark, the kitchen closed. However, I see Fergus Griffin waiting out front, along with two bruisers. Wisely, he didn’t bring the shit stain that stomped on Sebastian’s leg.

I don’t see Callum anywhere. Looks like Daddy put him in time-out.

We wait in the SUV until Papa pulls up as well. Then all four of us get out at the same time. When Dante slides out of the front seat, I see the bulge under his jacket that shows he’s still carrying. Good. I’m sure Nero is, as well.