Page 73 of Bedazzled
Trying to re-grasp my painstakingly memorized information from this morning, I asked, “Are we still planning for three formal toasts?”
“Yes,” he consulted his iPad. “The first from the head of the clan, Padraic, the second will be from his son Colm, and the third from their chief investor in this project, Nolan O’Rourke.”
You sneaky son of a bitch!I thought. Of course, he’d be here. Was O’Rourke here to help Yuri and Maksim, or to totally fuck everything up? If it was the latter, maybe it was good that I was here. I would stop him in any way possible if he gets in my husband’s way.
One hour before the party…
Byrne insisted that I try the sacred whiskey that we’re rolling out tonight, the O’Connell Collection batch. He blathered on about the “smoked caramel on the back palate, which gives way to the vanilla cigar of the finish,” and my brain felt like it was leaking out of my ears.
“I’ll have what the lady is having,” a deep Irish brogue pipes up from behind me.
Well, I’m having an imminent panic attack and I’m not sure they have any more of those behind the bar, but go for it,I thought.
“Mr. O’Connell, hello sir! I didn’t know you were here already, I would have come out to greet you!” Poor Byrne was almost lobster red with anxiety and man, can I relate.
Forcing myself to turn around, I offer what I suspect is a terrible-looking smile, more like a grimace as he introduced me to the Underboss and second in command of the O’Connell mob.
“Sir, allow me to introduce the finest Libation Historian in the whiskey field, Maureen Ryan,” he said, gesturing toward me as if hoping it would take the heat off of him.
Colm O’Connell had dark hair and a face like an angry bulldog, and his sharp blue eyes looked me over appraisingly. “Ah, I thought you were single.”
My brow rose.That’sthe first thing he wants to know? Then I look down at my wedding ring and groan silently. “Uh, a newlywed,” I said, raising my hand to show it off, fluttering my fingers nervously. “And how are you? You must be looking forward to tonight, after all these months of hard work.”
“Years,” he corrected coldly, “years. It’s been a long road to bring the O’Connell family to the level we deserve.”
This is the man that ordered the kidnapping and torture of my husband. This is the man who made my Yuri suffer so terribly that I’d wondered if he could ever climb out of the dark pit where they tried to bury him. I wanted to take the knife the bartender was using to cut limes and stab this motherfucker in the eye with it.
His eyes narrowed, watching me. Shit.
“Well, it sounds like it’s been a long road, but here you are, the owners of the oldest and most prestigious whiskey distillery in Ireland and about to debut what will be the finest product introduced in decades,” I said, trying to smile.
O’Connell took his glass from the terrified bartender and lifted it in a toast.“Go dtí an méid atá tuillte againn.”
“To what we deserve,” Byrne echoed, nervously sipping his whiskey.
As a toast, that really sucks in this context, I think, but I repeat it, then drink the fancy thirty-year-old whiskey.
“Ah, goddamn that’s good,” O’Connell groans.
“Can you taste the oak of the cask?” I offer, trying to keep my hand from shaking, “the age of the 401 Pedro-”
“I don’t need to hear the fancy shite,” he cut me off. “Just make it look good tonight, Maureen.” To my horror, he reached out, running one of his stubby, tobacco-stained fingers down my neck. “We’ll talk after.”
“Of course,” I assured him, “but if you’ll excuse me, I have to go over some notes with Mr. Byrne, if you could spare him for a moment?”
I didn’t like the way this creepy fuck was staring at me. It’s not even the look of a man who found me attractive, more the expectation that he was going to fuck me. Like he did this a lot. Just… grabbed other human beings and expected them to drop to their knees and be grateful about it.
O’Connell waved his hand impatiently. “Go. But you better be ready to make this the biggest fuckin’ night this dump has ever seen.”
Byrne visibly stiffened at hearing his beloved distillery called a ‘dump,’ but he practically bows as he backs away.
Yuri…
I have had a persistent urge to call Tania all day. It is not possible; there is too much to do and we don’t risk personal phone calls during a sensitive operation like this, but it’s impossible to shake.
Maksim catches me, “Stop staring at your phone and get your focus back where it needs to be.”
“Of course, you never think once about Ella,” I retort, “not with the steely self-control of a Pakhan.”
