Page 51 of A Dark Mafia Christmas

“And…?” His eyes grow even bluer if that’s at all possible.

“And I still love you, Emmett O’Hara.”

He grins at me. “Don’t move.”

My heart is throwing a party inside my rib cage. Emmett O’Hara has the power to flip my life on its axis, and it seems that this is exactly what he is doing. Again.

He goes down on one knee, right there on the dusty rotten floorboards of the hotel hallway, slides his hand into his pocket, and produces Granny Mary’s diamond ring. “Mary Chrysler, will you marry me?”

My heart turns the volume up a notch. I’m smiling so hard my cheeks hurt, and I think I say, “Yes,” but I can hardly hear my own voice over the blood gushing in my ears.

Emmett slides the ring onto my finger and kisses me, and I know that wherever he is, is going to be home from now on.

EPILOGUE

MARY

September that year, it’s the launch of our boutique hotel.

We’ve called it simply ‘Ours’ because Fianna and I have put a tiny piece of our heart and soul into every room.

“Ready?” I peer around the reception area that is aglow with warm fairy lights.

It’s hard to believe that this is the same building we moved into in January, the building where we slept on camp beds in the dining room, snuggled inside sleeping bags with a portable heater to keep us warm when we were not working. Fianna was able to bring all of our (sometimes) farfetched ideas to life, finding practical solutions to make them work.

The reception has floor-to-ceiling windows allowing the outside in, the interior walls strategically fitted with flush lighting that alters with the seasons. Tonight, the entire space is bathed in a warm orange glow, the tiny fairy lights flickering across the walls and scattering patterns across the floor like falling leaves. It’s magical, and magic is exactly what we wanted to bring to the hotel.

The bedrooms are themed. There’s a woodland room, an ocean room, a royal room complete with turrets, a velvet-draped four-poster, crowns, and silk robes, a Titanic room (Fianna’s first choice), and my particular favorite: the Christmas room. The bed is a sleigh, there are snow globes everywhere, and snow falls outside the window … even in summer.

Fianna widens her eyes at me and squeals. “The first guests arrive tomorrow. This is it, Mary. No turning back.”

For a woman who was born with the O’Hara confidence, she has hardly eaten today, and has wandered from room to room, testing lighting, smoothing comforters across beds, and straightening curtains that are already immaculate.

“Everyone is going to love it.” I squeeze her hand.

“What if Liam O’Doherty hates it? What if his review says that we’re a couple of women trying to play big-girl games?”

I laugh and shake my head. “You invited Liam O’Doherty as the only journalist here tonight for a reason. When he gives us a glowing review, we’ll be fully booked through to 2030.”

She smiles and her shoulders relax just a little. “This is what I love about you Mary, your unwavering optimism.”

“And my crazy ideas.” I wrinkle my nose, thinking of more qualities. “And my culinary skills.”

Fianna grimaces. “Your culinary skills are … unique, but please don’t ever apply for a job as a chef.”

The door opens, and Emmett comes in looking smart in a silver suit with a black rollneck sweater underneath. He kisses me on the lips and then lowers his head to kiss my swollen belly, agesture that has become so natural I know I’m going to miss it when the twins arrive. “How are my babies?”

“I think they’re more excited than the rest of us, I swear they’re having their own party in there.”

“That’s my girls.” Emmett slides his arm around me and sticks his tongue in my ear, sending shivers down my spine. “You look beautiful.”

His breath is warm on my cheek, and the familiar tingle spreads between my legs. I will never not feel sexy in his presence, and there are still days when I pinch myself to be sure that I’m not dreaming.

I push him away from me playfully. “Not tonight. You don’t want me to go into labor halfway through the party.”

“We’ve still got another three weeks. How am I supposed to keep my hands off you for that long?”

“You only have to keep your hands off me tonight.” I move his hands away from my belly and deliberately place them by his sides.

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