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He smiles. “Why are you looking at me like I’ve grown a second head?”
“Because I’m just blown away by you. You’re the head of the fucking Irish mob. I’ve seen you kill people. You’re scary as hell when you want to be. You also dance with me in the living room, wrap me in blankets and hand feed me chocolate, and fuck me until I can’t remember my own name. You’re the most dangerous man I’ve ever met and the only place I’ve ever felt this safe.”
“Jesus, baby.” Sean wraps his arms around me and kisses the top of my head. I feel myself melt into his embrace. He murmurs something into my hair in Gaelic.
“What did you say? It was pretty sounding.”
He chuckles. “If I tell you, you’re not allowed to run away.”
“Ok.”
“Loosely translated, I said you’re the most amazing woman I’ve ever met and I’m never giving you up.”
I twist to look into his eyes.
“I meant what I said, baby girl. You’re mine.”
I search his dark blue eyes. I know without a doubt that he is absolutely sincere. It thrills and terrifies me.
“Ok.”
I see the flash of fire in his gaze before his lips crash into mine.
CHAPTER37
Sean
It’s a short drive from my apartment to the venue and Roxanne seems to enjoy the limo. It’s a better fit for the occasion than one of the SUVs, and just as armored. Declan is driving again. He’s one of my best men, both as a driver and a bodyguard. I’m planning on assigning him to Roxanne. It’s unrealistic to think that I’ll always be around to protect her, a fact that drives me a little insane.
“Where is this thing at anyway?” Roxanne asks, peering out the window at the passing buildings.
“The Met.”
Her eyes light up. I love how expressive her face is. She doesn’t hide her reactions; she lives her life in the moment. We join the line of luxury SUVs, limos, and sports cars in front of the building. When we approach, a uniformed usher opens the door. I exit, buttoning my jacket as I stand. Reaching into the limo for Roxanne, I take her hand.
“By the way, little one, the press is here.”
A tiny flash of terror runs over her face before she swallows, steels her nerves, and steps confidently out of the car. Reporters and cameras line the literal red carpet and the area is bathed in bright lights. The hospital board chairman is standing at the top of the steps greeting guests. I stop to introduce Roxanne, also to allow the press to get several photos of the three of us, my left arm wrapped protectively around her lower back.
“Mr. O’Connell, thank you so much for your continued support of St. Mary’s. The work your company did on the new wing was fantastic. I’ve already heard wonderful things about it from our staff. Of course, your financial donations to the children’s cancer center are valued immensely as well.”
“Of course, Chairman Jones. Please contact me if you need anything at all.” We both stop to shake hands with several other board members and department heads as we make our way inside.
“You’re good at this,” Roxanne whispers to me.
“What?”
She gestures around generally. “This. The politics, the handshakes. The photo ops.” She pauses for a minute. “But I get the feeling that you do actually support this cause, don’t you? It’s not just good PR.”
I hand her a glass of champagne from a passing waiter. “Yes. One of the lads had a son, Tommy, with a nasty case of cancer. We paid for the treatment of course, and they took fantastic care of the boy and his family, but we overheard the staff mention they lacked a certain amount of funding. Tommy also had to be sent to another hospital for a few specialty treatments that St. Mary’s didn’t have the equipment for. Now they do have it.”
She looks at me with that odd bewildered look again. “You take good care of your men, don’t you?”
I nod. “Always, loyalty is rewarded. It’s good business. It’s also the right thing to do.”
She wraps her free arm around my waist and leans her head against my shoulder. “You’re a good man, Sean.”
I tip her chin up to me and gently kiss her lips. I’m not sure I believe that. I’m not sure some good things cancel out the many very bad things I’ve done. I take care of my men and their families, and to some degree the community, with money made in often questionable and downright illegal ways. Does paying for Tommy’s cancer care make up for selling weapons all over the world? Or laundering money for other organizations that do far worse things? I’m not sure this world can be clearly defined into good and evil. Is it possible to be a monster with morals? Or are morals just relative to the situation, therefore rendering themselves moot? There are certainly worse ways to lead an organization like this, Popov being a prime fucking example. The thought provides little comfort.
