Page 45 of My Irish Mafia King

“He thinks I’m some weak, naïve, annoying little girl who coughed up the cash to his goon because I was too scared to do anything. Sure, he knows that you’ve been visiting me, but he doesn’t know about our…”

“Relationship,” Killian says fervidly, touching my Claddagh ring, holding my hand. “Let’s call it what it is.”

Despite everything – the pain and the loss bubbling up in me – I smile. It feels easy considering all that’s happened. “Our relationship,” I go on. “He might just think you’re being a Good Samaritan, helping me. But even if he suspects we’re close, he won’t know how close, because…”

He smiles. “Because people rarely get as close as we are in a few days. Because we’re both a little crazy?”

Somehow, I laugh. It feels like a miracle. “Exactly.”

“At the party, I’ll wear a wire. We could probably find one that fits onto the necklace. Technology is crazy these days.”

“But why would he tell you anything?”

“I’ll pretend I’m scared. Well, not pretend.” I laugh humorlessly. “I’ll make out like I want to know what I have to do to rebuild the bakery and not have him burn it down again. I can read people, Killian. I spend all day every day talking with people. I watch them, learn their habits, which topics to avoid, which topics they want to talk about. He’ll never tell you the truth.”

“It’s dangerous enough taking you to the ball,” Killian says gruffly. “I’m only doing it because I can’t think of an alternative. I can’t allow?—”

“This isn’t about what you canallow,” I hiss. “This is about ending this. About making sure nobody else gets hurt. What if we hadn’t heard? I could be dead; you could be, Clover…” I stroke my dog. “It’s time for you to accept that I’m not that same lost kid anymore. I can handle this. I can help.”

Killian runs a hand through his hair, the hospital lights glinting through it. “You don’t have any idea all the ways this could go wrong,” he says.

“I know I’m putting myself in harm’s way. Am I scared? Hell yes. Am I going to let that stop me?Hell no.Don’t lie to me, either.”

“Lie to you?”

“When you look at me like that, I know you’re proud. I know you think this plan could work. But you’ve spent so long telling yourself you have to keep me out of the mob life, you can’t let go. Well, you need to try. For me. For us.”

He touches my hand again. “You read me like a book, beautiful.”

“I know you could stop me from doing this. You could have the men loyal to you kidnap me, take me someplace else. You could start the war without proof. But you won’t. You’re not like the other mob guys. You know I have to make this choice for myself.”

He groans. “If things go south, I’ll tear apart anybody who tries to hurt you.” That familiar savage look enters his icy blues. “I’ll kill everybody in that room if I have to. I won’t let anybody touch you. Ever.”

“That sounds suspiciously like you think we’re going to have a future…”

He brings his lips to mine, kissing me gently, then whispers, “I can’t imagine letting you go. Dammit, Lucy. Okay, we’ll do this. I trust your judgment.”

Eighteen

KILLIAN

Isit in the back of the limo with Lucy, wishing there wasn’t any extra pressure or danger on this date. I wish we were driving to a regular party, without a mafia war lurking at the edges, without one of my friends in the hospital, and my woman’s business and apartment burned to the ground.

“You look so beautiful,” I tell her, meaning it more than I’ve ever meant anything.

She sits with her legs crossed, her hair expertly curled by the stylist, a light layer of makeup bringing out her natural beauty, the eyeliner drawing attention to the honey in her eyes. She touches the necklace – the hidden listening device – and then smiles at me.

“You’ll be the most gorgeous woman in the entire building,” I tell her.

She averts her eyes. “You don’t have to lie to me.”

I place my hand on her leg, but I’m careful to only touch her lightly. I need my wits focused this evening. My attention filed down to a fine point. Frank and Owen are acting like the fire and the attack was a freak accident, offering no explanation. If they’ve heard about me gathering men loyal to me, they’ve given no sign.

“It’s the truth,” I say fiercely, trying to focus on the here and now, not the dangerous future. “You’re perfect.”

She touches my hand. “You seem nervous.”

“That’s an understatement. For the first time in a long time, I’m second-guessing myself.”

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