AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Sensitive?” Clara huffs. “Her house exploding was on the news. Someone killed her mother.” She turns sensitive eyes to me. “I couldn’t imagine what you went through, dear. Including losing your ma.” Clara hugs me, and the memory ofmymother slams into me.
The shocking warmth tightens my throat, and I’m overwhelmed with wanting to stay with Kieran. Make this a real marriage. Make him love me. He’s determined to breed me for a couple of kids and then what? Ignore me? No way. If his mother doesn’t think he’s serious about me, she’ll alienate me. I don’t want that.
“Thank you,” I say softly.
We finish brunch, and Kieran’s parents leave. Each with a hug. They say the Irish are cold, but Fergus and Clara O’Rourke really welcomed me.
Despite being told on my wedding day not to clean, I help Patricia clear the table.
Kieran comes up behind me and presses his lips into the back of my neck. “Thank you.”
I breathe for a moment, considering what to do. The feel of Kieran’s arm around me and the smell of his cologne is pure bliss. I turn in his hold, and his stare penetrates me. Those green eyes follow mine, and Ialmostconsider backing down from my request to see the other students since it’s just a ploy to run off and go to Samantha’s party.
Living in a gilded cage with my father, I understood the art of negotiation. Which hills to die on and when to retreat. A party with my friends doesn’t sound like the right stick to poke this bear husband of mine, but it’s early in our marriage, and I need to set expectations that I won’t be his prisoner.
Stasia used to ditch her bodyguards all the time. I take a moment to let that sink in. Maybe she went too far, and that’s why she’s gone. Perhaps there is something to being heavily protected right now. Still, I deserve to see my friends, even if it’s the last time in an open setting for a while.
Solo is very dark. No one will notice me. And no one in Manhattan knows I exist.
“So, we’re good for tomorrow?” I ask Kieran.
“Aye,” he says, pressing his lips to my temple.
“I have the fundraiser at seven.”
“Noted.” That means I can spend at least a couple of hours at Solo.
“I’m heading out to the office to discuss a few things with Eoghan. I’ll be back later.” He turns to leave, but I pull him in again for a kiss.
It’s wild and passionate, and it wrecks me. He lets me go and breathes heavily, hovering over my mouth. “That will get you into trouble, wife.” But he struts away, giving me a great view of his high, round ass in those dress slacks.
“I’m counting on it getting meoutof trouble, husband,” I whisper to myself.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Kieran
Iglanceatmyphone to distract the need to retch from the overwhelming metallic smell of blood. I’ve been here for almost twenty-four hours, and I’m ready to collapse.
Lachlan called me at the office late yesterday, saying that he and his guys hit pay dirt and dragged these scumbags to our black site. A warehouse where we punish people who rip us off. I called Isabella, saying I wouldn’t be home, but heard mixed signals in her voice.
“Tell me again where you got these pallets.” Lachlan, who’s shirtless and covered in blood, paces in front of two men his capos tied up.
“Talk, you pieces of shite. My brother is just getting started,” I say to make sure it’s known that nothing happens in my organization without my knowledge. Not that three pallets of stolen marble from a truck they highjacked is worth my time financially. But no one fucks with me. “Give us the name, and the pain will stop.”
Not really, but what do I give a fuck about lying to low-level thieves?
My gut tells me it’s an inside job. One of the many long-haulers we used to ship our merchandise just walked away from the truck. Riordan andhiscapos are hunting that guy down. He’ll get reprimanded worse. The higher up they are, the more severe the punishment. Balor is here because he gets bored just sitting behind his laptop.
Lachlan barely notices us. Right now, he’s technically in charge. These thieves can’t forget that.
I’m the boss, the don. I get my hands dirty from time to time, spill blood when it’s necessary. Another reason I kept my distance from Isabella these past two weeks. I came home most nights with blood on my clothes.
Isabella… My thoughts can’t seem to escape her. I wonder what she’ll wear tonight to the fundraiser I told her we were going to. Meanwhile, my window is closing to get the fuck out of here. I need to scrub the scent of blood, vomit, and feces off my skin. One of those fuckers shit his pants.
“Any idea when we think Parisi will strike Koslov, Balor?” I whisper and pray Parisi took my advice to do it covertly, under the cover of darkness, and not shoot people in broad daylight while kids are walking to school.
“No. All his communication channels are fucking muddy as hell, Kier.” Balor wrinkles his nose, bothered by the smell, as well. “There’s something I picked up on, though. Dante, his underboss, is really the one running the show.”
