Iron Rose: A dark MMA and Mafia Romance by Molly Briar

Author:Molly Briar [Briar, Molly]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Corgidor Publishing
Published: 2023-04-04T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 24

Alastair

I pegged her the moment I walked into the restaurant. She was facing the door, her face sour. And as I suspected, her face and body were covered in black charcoal lining and lipstick. I didn’t like that. I liked her face when it was bare. In a moment of madness, I wondered if the American, Brett Bradley, was her lover, but I dismissed it. The two were casual, there was no tension. Maybe it was more of a mentor-mentee situation. Was he her handler?

I refused to look at her, but instead kept my gaze on Sophie. Other than her raising her brow at my scrutiny, she did nothing. Fiona, the old bitty, fawned over us as a couple.

“I’m just so pleased to see you two together!” She clasped her hands in front of her heart.

“Now, Fiona,” Sophie said sweetly, her voice airy and sweet, “You know we’re just friends nowadays.”

Fiona smiled, then shrugged as if saying that she’d continue to hold out hope. After a decade, she had always assumed that we would end up together.

Because of our tall frames and blonde hair, we were always pegged as a ‘beautiful couple’. We’d create a wonderful row of blonde Von Trapp children. Sophie, of course, kept her lack of sexual preferences to herself, not deigning to allow the press into that particular aspect of her life, no matter how much they pried.

I knew the moment my Rose saw me. I didn’t look, but the stutter in her movements from my peripheral vision told me enough. She had seen me and she was livid.

I smiled. I tried to pawn it off as smiling towards Sophie - just to twist the knife in Rose a little more.

Fiona sat us at the other end of the restaurant, where I had a perfect view of my vixen and the back of Brett’s head.

It was quite a restaurant. The downstairs used to be a living area with a grand dining room, which they turned into a restaurant and bar. Fiona lived in the apartment upstairs. Her husband had passed away a couple years ago, so the restaurant was now her life.

When Fiona had our drink orders - a red wine for me, and a white for Sophie - I tapped my fingers nervously on the table.

Sophie gave me a pearly white smile, then finally asked, “So, why am I here?”

“I have a confession.” I chuckled to myself.

Her head tilted to the side. “I’m surprised.”

“What do you mean?” I was confused. Why would my confession of Rose surprise her? Why would she expect it at all?

She leaned in and in a low whisper said, “That you’d confess to killing my husband in a public place.”

My jaw dropped.

She didn’t seem upset by this knowledge. In fact, she looked more concerned about me than she did about the news of my pre-meditated murder of her late spouse.

“Is that not what we’re talking about?” She sat up suddenly, her eyes large, looking around to see if anyone overheard us.

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