Page 30 of Sins of Arrogance (Syndicate Sins #1)

And emphasizing my boobs is sure to get it. Not that I'm going to see him in this outfit with him leaving the mansion to take Dierdre to lunch.

"It was a whole thing." Fiona slides her feet into Crocks.

She practically lives in them, no matter what season it is.

"You weren't even there," I remind my sister.

Zoey adjusts her gun holster. "Hope told us. She was impressed with how you stood up for yourself and Fitz."

"She thought it was amazing that you refused to apologize for something you didn't do. Even though da got angry." Fiona still calls our father da sometimes.

I stopped using the term and started calling him Brogan and the more formal father exclusively when I was at the Marlowe Center. A da would not have pushed me into marriage, undergoing IVF treatments and parenthood as a teenager.

A father might, but not a da.

A da loves his children above others. Like Mick loves Fitz.

Although, it was my grandfather and not my father who ordered the disposal of the girl embryos, Brogan was complicit because he was just as adamant that I provide a male heir to the Shaughnessy line.

Despite the risks to my health and mental stability at such a young age, my father insisted I use IVF to ensure giving birth to a boy.

Nearly seven years and my chest still feels like it's being shredded by razorblades when I let myself remember that time and what came after.

"I'm pretty impressed too," Zoey adds. "I know plenty of made men and women who wouldn't have."

Warmth unfurls inside me at the other woman's approval.

Fabiana slides into a blazer that covers her shoulder holster. "It sounds like Dierdre is a real manipulator."

My gut twists. I can't believe I've been talking about something so private in front of her.

Like she knows what I'm worried about, Fabiana winks. "Don't worry. What happens in self-defense training stays in self-defense training."

I nod. "Thank you."

Though I have zero doubts that if something came up that would compromise the Cosa Nostra, she'd take it to her capo without compunction.

I'm pretty sure Róise would too at this point. Her loyalty has shifted from the mob to the mafia and it's no wonder. Miceli protects her with the kind of zeal Brogan reserves for the mob.

"You should bring Hope to the next training session," Róise says.

"I invited her to this one, but she said no," Zoey answers.

Róise frowns. "I'll call her." Hope is Róise's mom's sister. Maybe she'll have more sway. "Tell me more about the vintage clingwrap."

"Vintage clingwrap?" Fabiana asks, her voice laced with humor.

"You know, she's the old model, thin, transparent and sticks where she's not wanted." Róise's tone is pure snark.

I burst out laughing and so does everyone else. Okay, so twenty-one-year-olds aren't slouches in the sarcasm department either.

"She tried to make me believe Mick has other lovers because he has feral needs."

Róise gives the faint red marks on my wrists a pointed look. "I think you've got that one covered."

The first time my cousin noticed the marks, she was livid and threatened Mick's life. I had to admit I like what we do in bed…to a fourteen-year-old. I never gave specifics, but I promised it was something I wanted.

I wonder if Róise has discovered her own kinks now that she's having sex with Miceli. As close as we are, it's not something I'm going to ask.

"Yeah. The one area of my marriage I don't worry about is keeping Mick happy in the bedroom." I pause. "They’re having lunch later."

" Lunch? " Róise echoes, outraged. "Your husband agreed to lunch with his ex while she’s living under your roof?"

I shrug, not feeling as sanguine as I'm trying to pretend. "It’s business."

She doesn’t answer right away, but her eyes narrow. She watches me too closely. I look away.

"Kara," she says gently. "I’d burn Miceli’s suits if one of his old flames showed up to stay in our home."

"That's not me." I'm the good girl, and we all know it.

"Before you stood up to da and refused to apologize, I would have agreed, but now, I think Mick might want to start watching out for his wardrobe," Fiona jokes.

I get a picture of making a bonfire with Mick's suits on the beach and the image is way too satisfying. "Maybe."

My sister grins but it slips into a scowl pretty fast. "I hate her."

A year ago, I would have admonished my sister that hating people is wrong. But that was the old Kara. The perfect little doormat.

I don't want to be her anymore. "I hate her too."

"We could accidentally tie her to a training dummy." Zoey cracks her knuckles.

Fabiana gets a positively gleeful gleam in her eye. "Maybe I give her an object lesson in the difference between taking a fall the right way and one that ends up with a broken limb."

The laugh that slips out of me is real. The ache behind it is, too.

Róise steps closer and squeezes my hand. "Anything you need. We're here."

"Yeah, we are uniquely qualified to get rid of the body." Zoey winks.

I nod, blinking fast.

"Next lesson, you pretend your opponent is the vintage cling wrap," Fabiana says sardonically. "I have a feeling you'll attack harder."

Fiona grins. "Oh, I like that game. Next time, you're a skinny brunette with a lack of tact. You just see how hard I hit."

We all laugh. But inside? I'm wishing I could throw Dierdre on the mats, just one time. And maybe step on her hand before helping her up.

"I’ve seen women lose focus because of other women," Fabiana says, going full on serious. "But the real threat is never the ex who flaunts. It’s the man who lets her."

I go completely still, the words sinking into my gut like a knife.

She’s right.

That’s exactly what hurts so much. Not Dierdre’s glossy hair or her perfect model's body. Not the casual digs or the way she tries to manipulate me into a corner. No. It’s Mick.

It’s his tolerance. His politeness. His rationalizations.

It's him asking me to apologize to a woman he used to have sex with. It’s the way he justifies it all by saying it's business .

"Here." Zoey hands me my water bottle. "Don't get lost in your head. Mick looks at you like he's a starving jungle cat and you're the meal he's about to run down and devour."

Róise chokes. "Seriously?"

"You think so?" Fiona asks her girlfriend.

"You're all too close to see it. Whatever Mick and Dierdre's past, that man watches his wife like she's the only woman on the planet, much less in the room."

Wanting to believe that so badly, I ache with it, I drink from my water bottle so I won't pathetically ask Zoey to repeat herself.

Róise frowns and nods. "I can see it. I've noticed over the past year especially that he seems like he wants more from you. But whatever his feelings are, Mick needs to earn the right to stand beside you."

My throat tightens.

"He needs to treat you like you're the only woman in the room," Fiona agrees.

I look at my cousin, who’s grown into a woman without losing her fire. She never fit herself into the good girl mold. She stood up for herself and Fiona in a way, I've never been able to.

Only it’s not pity in her eyes right now. It’s belief. In me.

Fiona's expression mirrors that belief, warming my heart even as a tiny part of me stays drenched in doubt. It's so easy for them.

Fiona knows Zoey loves her , not what she can get out of being with my sister.

And Miceli looks at Róise like she’s the sun and he's been locked in the dark for his whole life. He protects her like it's his religion.

No one’s ever wrapped me in anything but rules, expectations and obligations.

I push a smile out anyway. "I’ll try to remember that."

Róise moves closer, her tone gentle. "Maybe we're not the only ones too close to the situation to see the forest for the trees. Maybe Mick doesn’t realize he loves you either."

I snort laugh. "Yeah, like he wouldn't know if he felt something that deep."

"You'd be surprised," Róise says.

Is she talking about Miceli? I don't ask. But maybe I should.

But I just shake my head, and plead, "Don’t."

I can't afford to start building castles in the sky again. The last time I convinced myself Mick loved me and realized that he didn't, it nearly cost me my life and my son his mom.

I'm never going back there.

"Okay," she says. "But if he forgets who you are, we won’t."

The burn behind my eyes threatens to spill over, but I blink fast. I don't lose my composure. Not ever.

When I'm sure it won't make moisture trickle from my eyes, I force myself to nod once in acknowledgement of her words.

No matter what my husband thinks of me, my sister and sister-of-my-heart will always love and stand by me.

That's more than a lot of women have.