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Epilogue
SIX MONTHS LATER
DONNACHA
“Fuck,” I moan into my wife’s ear, pressing my erection into her stomach. “You know how wild it sends me when you’re angry.” I gently swipe her silver locks away from her neck and replace them with my hand. “Scream for me again, sweetheart.”
Romy does this thing when I touch her all the right ways at the wrong time. She lets out this little puff of air through her parted lips, and for a split second, her eyes roll into the back of her skull. Sometimes, I’ll be up in Boston, beating the shit out of someone in the Tunnels, and I’ll remember it.
And it’ll make my cock rock-hard every time.
But this morning, she’s in no mood for my games. She jabs me in the ribs and escapes from my clutches by ducking under my arm. “Trust me, if anything happens to my best friend, I’ll treat you to a lot more than my screams.”
Muttering something under her breath, she picks up the remote and un-mutes the television. That god-awful cooking show host floods the penthouse, describing the melt-in-your-mouth texture of her meringue nests in a sing-song voice that couldn’t contrast more with Romy’s scowl.
She stands there, glaring at the screen with her arms folded across her chest. Settling into an armchair, I take the chance to admire my wife in her black silk dressing gown. The fabric hugs the curve of her ass like she had it custom-made for my pleasure.
Fuck.I can’t wait until this is all over so I can take her back to bed. It’s been six months since I first heard her moan my name, and every time since has been like smoking a goddamn crack pipe.
I’m an addict, baby. And Romy is my only drug of choice.
With my cock pressing against my zipper and unable to get the thought of my wife tied to our headboard out of my mind, I’m growing restless. I glance down at my Rolex and see it’s 7:00 a.m. Mak should be strolling out of that elevator any minute.
Romy whips around, nostrils flaring. “I’ve been up all night worried sick. How could I sleep, hmm? Knowing my best friend is fifteen floors below me, fighting for his life?” Her eyes slash to the clock on the wall. “He could be lying in a puddle of his own blood right now. You, on the other hand, slept like a fucking log.”
I stifle a yawn. “Because I know there’s nothing to worry about. Mak is one of the best fighters I’ve ever trained. Have a little faith.”
She looks at me like I’ve lost my damned mind. “Have a little faith? How about you show a little mercy? If he’s one of the best fighters you’ve ever trained, then why does he have to do this final test? It’s cruel. It’s barbaric.” She cusses some more under her breath, flexing her fingers like she’s toying between punching me in the throat and ripping the television off the wall and hurling it at me.
“When I agreed to give him the chance to join my men, I told both of you that he won’t get any preferential treatment just because he’s your best friend. This is purely business, baby.” I lick my lips. “Now, why don’t you come sit on my lap, and I’ll calm you down?”
Nostrils flaring, she dips her eyes to the bulge in my slacks. There’s that little puff of air again. Then she swallows and shakes her head. “No. I’m angry with you and not in the fun way.”
The whirring of the elevator shaft catches her attention. Her big, blue eyes light up, and she hurls herself across the penthouse and into the entrance hall long before the doors can slide open. When they do, she barks, “Oh, for fuck’s sake.”
Aisling blinks. “Uh, good morning to you too.” She steps into the penthouse, sweeping the space nervously. “Is he back?”
“No,” Romy groans, punching a wall. “And I’m about to lose my damn mind. Is it too early to crack open the whiskey?”
My sister stares at me, panic creeping across her features. “He’s going to be okay, though, right? Don?”
“He’s going to be fine, sis. Go to school. He’ll be right here when you get back.”
Her puny fist lands on my chest. “How can I concentrate on my studies at a time like this?” she cries.
I frown, glancing up at Romy, whose eyes are also narrowed. “Aisling, if I didn’t know any better, I’d—”
Ding.
Everyone freezes, turning to the elevator doors. They slide open to reveal a crumpled figure.
“Oh my god, Mak!” Romy goes to throw her arms around him, but my sister gets there first, diving into his chest and sobbing. Mak wraps his arms around her and lightly kisses the top of her head.
“Uh, is there something you two aren’t telling us?” Romy snaps, eyes darting back and forth between the two of them. They exchange shifty looks, then Mak steals a glance at me.
“No,” Aisling mutters, retreating to the sofa, face redder than usual. “We’re just friends.”
“Yeah, we’re going to deep-dive into this later, so don’t think I’ll forget.” Her voice softens as she turns to her best friend, scanning him for injuries. “But you’re okay, right? You’re not hurt or anything?”
