The Bratva's Heir (Underworld Kings)

“Constantine,” I gasp. “It’s Niall Maguire…”

“I know,” he murmurs back. “I brought the Irish. Now go Clare, do not force my hand. I need you safe.”

“I will stay safe,” I say, as I pull my hand away and glance back at him over my shoulder. “Watch me. I’m counting on you to keep me safe.”

He reaches for me, but I’ve already stepped into the limelight. I hear him curse, then see him pull out a cell phone in my peripheral vision as I turn away. My mother sees me a few paces off and waves to me. I’m glad I have the mask on to hide the tears in my eyes, the panic that sweeps over me like a waterfall.

It felt a lot safer by his side. So much safer.

His scent still clings to me, the press of his fingers still lingering on my sides, and I bear the marks of his perfectly savage brand of lovemaking on my body.

I make sure to wave to my father as I watch Constantine—the mysterious cloaked stranger, only one of many at the masquerade ball—fall into the shadows to my right. A few of the masked men standing against the wall casually follow. His men, or maybe more Irish.

“Clare, I’d like to introduce you to a few of my friends,” my mother says. Her friends, as tacky as she is, ask me questions about being taken by “that monster.” They listen with wide eyes and open mouths before I even speak.

“It was terrible,” I tell them. “He was so strong and fierce, I saw him rip the door off a car without breaking a sweat.” I’m having fun with this. I can almost imagine Constantine shaking his head, that smirk on his face before he smacks my ass for being so cheeky.

“Were you scared?”

“Terrified,” I say in a breathy whisper. I shiver when the dark-cloaked men pass by, masked and incognito. “But he never hurt me,” I lie. I’ll never forget that whipping while splayed over his lap in the car and wish I could understand why my body heats at the memory. “He only used me to get out of jail. That’s how I escaped so easily.” My voice sounds a little hollow when I finish my story. “I was never part of his plan.”

He just told me he loved me.

I have to stay strong.

When I see my father and Parsons going to a more private location, I pretend I’m choked up, and it isn’t very hard to do. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to get a little bite to eat.”

The food’s right out in the open courtyard where my father’s headed.

Dread gathers in my chest; the pounding of my heart wants to come next. This is where the proverbial shit hits the fan. I need to hear what these two will say to each other, when they think they're safe behind their masks and with their crowds of people nearby. I need to record this for evidence and find out if there's anybody else implicated in any of this. I look wildly around me for one quick second to try to catch Constantine's eye, but he's nowhere to be found.

A rowdy group of younger people, around college-aged, steps in front of me. I let them go so they camouflage me. Thankfully the color of their dresses and gowns and masks is similar to my own. I head straight into the crowd, allowing their boisterous enthusiasm to buoy me along until I see them—my father and his friend, out by the bar, each with a drink in hand.

Even a day ago, I’d have wanted to cry thinking about my dad embroiled in any of this.

But I saw the inside of that prison.

I know my father’s not innocent.

But Constantine is.

I slip casually to the side, just as one of Constantine’s men brushes by me. I look at him in surprise, but he’s already gone.

To the left, there are none of the twinkling fairy lights lighting up the garden, just a couple talking quietly to each other but no one else.

My phone buzzes.

I look at the screen and see a text from Constantine.

Constantine: You’re a stubborn brat.

Me: And you love that about me.

Constantine: You tell a girl you love her ONE TIME…

I tuck my head and stifle a smile.

Constantine. We’ll talk about your willfulness later, alone.

Me: And naked?

Constantine: Absolutely.

Now that we’re back together, I feel as if my world is brighter again, more vivid. I feel like I can smile. I feel like everything will be okay, even if we still have to walk across hot coals to get there.

Constantine: Clare, you’ll find a small recording device in your pocket. It’s designed to look like a rock. Open it and click it on. Gently roll it beneath your father’s chair, then walk away. We’ll take it from there.