Page 34 of My Irish Mafia King

“Put the ring on,” he says.

“Is that an order from themafia king?”

He grabs my arms and pulls me close to him, staring down with so much heat, I think he might lay me on the table and tear off my clothes. He looks like a man on the very edge of control, struggling not to lose it. “I’m doing this for you. I’m doing this because I know if I look over and see some guy chatting you up, I’m liable to put a bullet in him. I’m doing this because Iampart of the mafia, even if I’ve never wanted to be. I’m doing this because there’s a demon in me and it’ll wake—again—if another man evenimagineshe has a chance with you.”

I put my hand on his chest, first meaning to push him away. But when I feel his heart hammering beneath my palm, I dig my nails into his firm chest through his shirt and pull myself in for another kiss.

It’s somehow hotter than the others, imbued with more meaning, with more intensity.

“You were my lucky charm that stopped the storm,” he whispers. “At the ball, you’ll be my lucky charm again. Here…” He takes the ring from me with surprising gentleness, then slips it onto my finger, turning it so it’s facing the right direction.

“I have nothing to wear at a ball,” I tell him. “Everyone there will be rich and have fancy outfits and I’ll look out of place.”

“I’ll take you shopping,” he says. “Anything you want, it’s yours. In the short time we have together, let me treat you.”

“I wish you’d stop reminding me we’re on a clock.”

“I’m not reminding you. I’m reminding myself. Otherwise, I’ll let myself think of impossible, painful things.”

“Well, I get it,” I tell him. “You don’t have to keep reminding me. And I can’t go shopping. I need to keep the bakery running.”

“You’re open nights?”

“The stores will be closed,” I protest.

He gently takes my hands. “A stór, I’ll have the owners open them. Take you on a private shopping trip. It’s even better; I get you all to myself.”

Again, I get that split feeling, like there are two people warring inside me. One wants to tell him I don’t want some princess adventure. He can’t make me ignore how doomed this is with romance andthings. But another part is… okay, sue me. Yep, I’m excited.

“Do you know the story of Niamh and Oisín in the Land of Youth?” I ask.

“No, but I’m sure my lucky charm will tell me…”

“Niamh begged Oisín not to leave, told him things would never be the same, but he was determined to see Ireland. He promised he would come home to her. But when he returned, three hundred years had passed. Nothing would ever be the same again. He would never see his love again. I’ve been reading Irish folklore, and lately, that one sticks out to me.”

“I can see why,” he says huskily.

I curl my arms around him again and lay my cheek against his chest, clinging to him. He doesn’t need to ask why I brought up that story. He knows I’m talking about us, the ticking that’s in the background of every interaction, every hug, every kiss, every love-filled word, Gaelic or English. He knows that he’s Oisín, and one day, I won’t be here for him, or he won’t be there for me.

“Let’s enjoy tonight,” he whispers, kissing the top of my head. “The ball will come; the war might come. But not tonight, beautiful. Tonight, nothing can touch us. It’s just me and you.”

Just like it was years ago, sheltering in that cave, when, to my young and terrified mind, it felt like the entire world was against us and there was only one man who could save me. But that was when I was a child.

I’ve changed since then. I’m not naïve anymore. Maybe he’s right. Maybe tonight is the only time we’ll have to just be together.

Am I going to waste that by dreading the future?

“Just me and you,” I whisper.

Fourteen

KILLIAN

“Are you sure they don’t mind opening just for us?” Lucy says, looking across the street at the jewelry store as the lights flick on. She turns to me, pouting, her fiery red locks framing her gorgeous face. “Hey—don’t look at me like that.”

I smile innocently, holding my hands up. “Like what?”

She nudges me, laughing. I think about the story of Oisín and Niamh, the message nestled within her words. She’s not happy about this having an expiration date, and neither am I, but tonight, it doesn’t matter. It’s just us.

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