Page 42 of The Celtic Resolution

“Get this.” Cian sounds almost too proud of himself. “The dude took off his mask, walked right up to Domenico Del Prete and called himdad!”

Everything freezes as a rushing sound fills my ears and drowns out whatever else Cian has to say.

Holy shit.

My mystery green masked guy is…Bruno?

19

BRUNO

“What do you think of this?” Mary stands before me in a sleek purple dress with lace sleeves and more piping detail around her bodice than I’ve ever seen on a piece of clothing before.

“Pretty.”

“Do you mean that?” She pouts slightly and twirls. “I need to look amazing!”

“Why, it’s not your wedding.”

“Bruno!”

I look back in time to narrowly avoid the cushion launched in my direction. “Hey! I’m hungover, be gentle!” I definitely drank too freely after leaving Saoirse last night. Alcohol can’t replace the warmth she gives me but it helps.

“And whose fault is that?” Her eyes narrow to a glare. “I thought you’d want to help me with my dress.”

“I do,” I say, pushing the ache behind my eyes away to the back of my mind. “I do. And I know you had to wait until Dad was out of here before inviting me over so I appreciate that.”

“Well, I don’t see why,” Mary mutters. “Rocky invited you to the wedding so you’re going to cross paths with him regardless.”

“Did you ever find out why?” I ask casually, standing and moving around Mary to fully admire her dress.

“I asked him to.”

“What?”

“I asked Rocky to invite you and he said yes. It was barely a discussion really. I think he saw how happy I was to have you back and Rocky’s a good guy. He takes family very seriously these days.”

“Wow.” Maybe he’s not the self-centered little dick I used to know all those years ago. “He’s not worried I’ll sour the tone of the place.”

“Please,” Mary scoffs. “You’ll probably be the most angelic guest there. So tell me, does this dress make me look good? And I meanreallygood. I want to make every bitch on social media jealous.”

“Aren’t they already?”

“Yeah but…” She turns to face me and her shoulders droop. “Ever since I was taken, everyone looks and talks to me with pity and I hate it. I want to be known as a bad bitch again.”

It’s surreal to hear that from my sister who, in my eyes, is still an eight-year-old terror.

“Yes, the dress makes you look like a bad bitch.”

“Amazing! Take a picture?” She passes me her phone and moves a few steps away to pose.

“It’s weird seeing you pose like that,” I say as I slide the screen to camera.

“Why, scared that your sister looksbeautiful?” With one hand on her hip, she fluffs her hair and pouts.’

“Yup. Means I gotta beat up a lotta boys to keep them away.”

“Bruno!” She gapes at me and I snap a couple of pictures, laughing. “You should put these on your socials.”