“She maced me.”
O’Mara laughed and turned back to her. “Did you really?”
She lifted a shoulder. “He was chasing me. I don’t like being kidnapped.”
She hoped maybe he would deny the allegation or seek to reassure her that she wasn’t there under duress. He didn’t even flinch.
He glanced at his goons again, pointing to the door. “Leave.”
“You sure, boss?” Wallace asked. “She’s feisty.”
Mia still didn’t like how Wallace looked at her, like he was just biding his time until she was available.
With a roll of his strange green eyes, O’Mara gestured for them to leave again. “I think I can handle her.”
Mia should have felt better as the other men left. Felt safer since the numbers were more even, one-on-one.
If anything, she felt worse. “Why am I here?”
He ignored the question. “Have a seat?” An offer, but the command beneath couldn’t be denied.
But she would. She planned to deny him everything. She squared her shoulders. “No, thank you.”
He arched a dark brow. “I’d think your feet would hurt after a night at the restaurant.”
His voice held the slight lilt of an accent. Very faded, but sexy. Mia pursed her lips. “My feet aren’t your concern. Tell me why your goons dragged me here.”
“I’m Shane O’Mara.” He extended his hand, which she didn’t even consider taking. He seemed amused and with a small shrug, he dropped it back to his side. “Very well. We’ll skip the niceties.”
“Niceties aren’t really the order of the day when you abduct someone.” She shifted slightly, suddenly aware of the acute ache from her overworked feet. Damn him for drawing it to her attention.
He laughed again and damn if the silky sound didn’t do something to her insides. “Fine.” Shane walked back to his desk, propping his hip on the corner.
“What do you want from me, Mr. O’Mara?”
“Shane.”
She ignored him.
“You’re aware of your father’s…profession?”
Mia sighed deeply. “I know he’s the Avtoritet under the Pakhan of the Varnakov bratva, which makes him about number-three in their hierarchy, but I don’t know specifics. If you’ve brought me here to gain some kind of advantage or to obtain information, you’re out of luck. I want nothing to do with him or the Russkaya mafiya.”
“Hmm.” Shane gestured to a wet bar. “Drink?”
She shook her head. As the silence lengthened, she asked, “What is your profession, Mr. O’Mara?”
“Shane will do.” He made her wait as he walked to the wet bar to pour a glass of something amber. “Your father and I are in the same line of work, but for different companies, I guess you could say.”
She didn’t bother to hide her disdain. “You’re a violent thug, too?”
He took a sip of his drink, seeming unbothered by her appraisal. “I wouldn’t call myself a thug, honey. That’s an entirely different lifestyle.”
She heaved an annoyed sigh. “So, tell me how you’re any different from the typical gun-toting, drug-selling pimp in the gutter?”
His lips tightened. “I have something most of them would kill for.”
“What?” Mia just wanted to go. Whatever was happening here was between Shane and her father, not her.
