Page 2 of My Irish Mafia King

But I’m left with my original problem. Eventually, that would mean bringing her into contact with the mob. And anyway, if she knew the truth about me, if she knew I was a mob prince, she wouldn’t want anything to do with me.

“I’ll see you around, lucky charm,” I say.

Her smile is magnetic and beautiful. “I’ll hold you to that, Killian.”

“Hey—you remembered my name.”

“I remember that day. My mom and I were running away from my father. I’ve always been grateful for what you did.” She quickly turns away, seeming awkward at oversharing. “See you later, Killian.”

When I leave, I tell myself I’ll never come back here. It’s dangerous, a man like me wanting a regular woman. But I know it’s all a lie.

I’m already thinking about my virgin Irish coffee tomorrow morning.

One

LUCY

Six Months Later

When I see Killian walking toward the entrance of The Celtic Crust, I try not to let my heart flutter like it did the first time he walked in six months ago. I felt like I was dreaming as I stared into his light blue eyes, as his blonde hair caught the light... seeming almost silver at certain angles. I’ve thought about my savior a lot over the years. Seeing him again felt like a dream.

I turn and start preparing his usual coffee before he enters the bakery. He swaggers over to the counter. In the reflection of the gleaming coffee machine, I see he’s wearing a suit today.

“Somebody’s dressed fancy,” I say. “A meeting about the restaurant? Or are you opening a new one?”

“Maybe I just wanted to impress you,” he replies.

“Ha ha,” I sarcastically mutter, finding relief in my turned back.

Our easy banter often heats me up, my body aches, and my heart pounds. Sometimes, when I’m preparing his coffee, I’m sure I can feel his gaze roaming over my body. But that’s highly doubtful, considering it’s been half a year, and he’s never so much as made a romantic comment.

“I’m interviewing for a manager,” he says. “It’s been a long road to get the restaurant up and running. Now, I’m ready to pass it on. But don’t worry... I’ll still be by for my morning coffee.”

I turn, raising my eyebrow. “Who said I was worried, huh?”

He smirks in that easy, carefree style of his. It was the same way he smiled all those years ago.“Look at me, kid. I’m not going to let anything happen to you, okay? I promise.”

“Are you taking a trip?” he asks now, gesturing at the books on the counter. He looks closer. “Andlearning Gaelic.”

“I’m trying,” I say in my best Gaelic.

He replies in fluent Gaelic, his accent like he’s lived in Ireland his entire life.

“I didn’t get that,” I admit.

“I said, ‘That was good, lucky charm.’”

He doesn’t know this, but every time he calls me lucky charm, a simmer dances over my body. But he’s not interested in me like that. He’s a successful restaurant owner, a millionaire if my online searches are accurate, and tall, muscular, handsome, and comfortable in his own skin.

I place his coffee on the counter.

He winks as he takes the coffee, then says, “Tá tú go hálainn.”

My heart thunders as my entire body heats at his words, my freaking soul aching, if such a thing is possible. He just called me beautiful. I try to play it off with an oh-so-casual eye roll. “Are you going to enlighten me?”

“What would be the fun in that?” he teases. “So, when’s the big trip?”

Behind the counter, I clench my fist when I see another customer approaching... then unclench it when they keep walking down the street. Killian’s morning visits are the only time I’m relieved when the bakery is quiet.

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