Page 26 of My Irish Mafia King

“I thought you might be hungry,” she murmurs, offering me a small paper bag. “It’s just a little something.”

“Anything you’ve baked has not disappointed me,” I tell her.

“Is that woman okay?”

I nod. “I made sure of it myself. She’s with her family, and the local cops are watching her, with backup from a security team I hired at my expense. It was the Russians who grabbed her initially. She responded to an ad for ‘modeling’… but they’ll never get their hands on her again.”

“Good,” Lucy says, then she smiles shakily. “Earlier got a bit… much, didn’t it?”

I take the pastry from the bag, a smile spreading across my face. This is exactly what I shouldn’t be doing. These feelings are precisely the sort I should let shrivel and die before they consume me. She’s baked a raisin pastry in the shape of a four-leaf clover.

“For luck,” she murmurs.

I take a bite, making a loudhmmnoise which earns me the most gorgeous, magnetic laugh.

“Why would I need luck when I’ve got my charm right here?”

Her cheeks redden. She wraps strands of her red hair around her finger, then drops her hand when she realizes what she’s doing. “Is your plan to sit out here all night?”

“I wanted to see you,” I admit. “But…”

“Do you have any idea how annoying it is when people start sentences and then leave them all mysteriously unfinished? Do you have any clue how overactive it makes my imagination? You could say literally anything. Put me out of my suspense.Please.”

“I meant what I said,” I tell her. “It would be better if we didn’t do this. I never wanted you to see this side of me.”

“At least I know the truth now,” she murmurs, reaching for her neck… for the small ring I first slipped on her finger years ago.

“You’re wearing the necklace again,” I say, moving closer.

“I feel strange without it. I didn’t start wearing it until after Mom passed. The world seemed less bleak because of it. It made things seem more manageable. It reminded me that even if I was lost and a storm was raging, there was a way out.”

“I can’t be the person I was back then,” I tell her. “That was never who I really was. That was a good deed to make me feel better about being a mob guy.”

“It’s one of my most special memories. Don’t downplay it. Anyway, enjoy your clover…” She turns, then pauses. “Unless you want to come inside?”

I swallow. “If I do, Lucy, we can’t expect anything. No matter what happens?—”

“Nothing’s going to happen,” she whispers. “I just don’t see the point of you hiding away out here.”

“Are you sure nothing’s going to happen?” I growl. “BecauseI’mnot. I spent so many months lying to myself, telling myself you were just the friendly bakery owner, nothing more. But now, Lucy, I’ve tasted you, touched you…”

“I’ll make sure you try nothing. Sound like a plan?”

I know it’s wrong. I know this can’t have a happy ending. But I step forward and loop my arms around her, anyway.

She shivers against me. My manhood surges as I feel the luscious plumpness of her ass. “What are you doing?” she moans.

“I was going to offer you a bite,” I say, bringing the pastry to her lips.

She laughs, then takes a big bite. “See—I’m gross. Talking with my mouth full. Youcan’tbe interested.”

That’s where she’s wrong. Her playfulness, her naturalness makes her so different from the stuffy society women who are always trying to impress me.

“Tomorrow isn’t promised, Lucy. Just tonight.”

“Believe me, after Mom, I know nothing is guaranteed. And you’re the one making this…”

I playfully nudge her. “Do you have an idea how annoying it is when people leave sentences unfinished?”

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