Page 51 of My Irish Mafia King

“What’s wrong?” he asks. “Apart from the obvious…”

“I’m scared to see her,” I admit. “Two days of running around the city, of being the mafia prince, of getting myself ready to murder two men. I’m scared if I see her, the switch will flip. I’ll go soft, letting my defenses down.”

“Killian, this is part of the life,” Colm says. “Learning to live as two halves, killer and lover, mafioso and family man. You’ll get used to it.”

“With Lucy, I want to be everything.” I yawn, shaking my head. “I’m beat and not even making sense.”

“Go be with your woman. She’s been through a lot. She needs you.”

“You’re right,” I say. “Call me if there are any updates. Tomorrow, we’ll start again.”

I leave the car and enter the apartment building. As I ride the elevator up, I’m surprised by the nerves making my stomach knot. It’s only been two days, but it feels a lot longer. I know Lucy is safe with Clover and her friend, Anna, who has agreed to stay. But that’s it. We haven’t spoken since the hotel.

When I enter the apartment, Clover’s tail pricks as she runs over, yapping at me. I kneel, stroking my hand over her head. Lucy stands at the end of the hallway wearing one of my T-shirts, oversize and cutting off just above her knees. She’s got her red hair tied up, unruly curls here and there in disarray.

I rush over to her, sweeping her into my arms. She claws onto me.

“I’ve missed you so much,” I say fiercely. “I’m sorry I couldn’t come sooner.”

She grabs firmly onto my arms, pulling herself into a kiss. I groan as our lips meet warmly, my body responding right away, my manhood going stiff as I surge against her.

“I missed you too,” she murmurs. “I hope you don’t mind about the shirt.”

I smile, the first time my lips have taken this shape in two days. “Don’t even think about apologizing for showing off those thick, perfect legs of yours.”

Looping my arm around her waist, we walk into the living room, sitting on the couch together.

“I didn’t want to leave you after what happened,” I say. “But I had to. I thought I’d be able to find the lowlife bastards and end it quickly.”

She shifts closer to me, putting her cheek against my chest. I wrap my arms around her shoulders. When I look down and see that the Claddagh ring has changed position, my heart gives a flutter.

“Why have you done that?” I say, touching her hand. “It means you’re single.”

“You told me the ring was for show… so nobody else would hit on me. Isn’t the show over now?”

I kiss her gently on the cheek, then rest my forehead against hers, feeling her breath move over me. We stare intensely into each other’s eyes. “It would be the right thing, the honorable thing, but I can’t stick to it,a stór. I can’t imagine a life without you. I hate myself for leaving you for two days.Two days. Do you think I can manage a lifetime?”

I touch her hand, turning the ring so that the heart is facing inward again. She blinks, a tear sliding down her cheek. “I know why you had to leave. You want to end this war.”

“No,” I growl. “I mean – yes, I do. But it’s more than that. I want, need, to put a bullet in Owen for what he did to you, for what he was planning to do. I need to end him for daring to think he could hurt you. Ever.”

She squeezes tightly onto me. “If we have each other, we can get through anything. I know how naïve that sounds, but I believe it.”

“I’m going to be the mob king, Lucy. That means, if you really want to do this, you’ll be my queen. You’ll be at my side at the parties and the balls. You’ll take your place as mine, mine alone… forever.”

“You say that like it’s supposed to scare me,” she says. “All I’ve been thinking about these past two days is that, Killian,you. Us. Well, and the bakery.”

I swallow. “You saw the photos I sent.”

“I almost wish I didn’t ask for them.”

Yesterday, she called and asked for photos of the Crust. It looked like a bomb had hit it, flames tearing through and leaving it a husk.

“When this is over, we’ll rebuild it,” I tell her.

“I don’t even have insurance?—”

“My perfect, beautiful, lucky charm,” I whisper, tenderly sliding my hand through her hair. “You don’t need to be so independent anymore. You’re my woman, my queen…”

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