Page 70 of My Irish Mafia King

“Just give me a little more time.”

“You’re being more mysterious than I was in Ireland.”

“Yeah, right.”

When she turns away, I can’t help but indulgently spank her ass. She looks at me over her shoulder, pouting temptingly. “Be good.”

“For now, queenie.”

She laughs at the new nickname, then returns to the kitchen. I step into my office to answer some emails. Being mafia king, as well as running the restaurants, means serious work, but it’s worth it to keep the city safe and to provide for my mother, my sister, and the love of my life.

Soon, there’s a knock at the door. She brings in a covered plate. Her honey-colored eyes move away from me when I try to catch her eyes, as though she’s afraid to meet mine.

“I take it this is an important dish,” I mutter.

“The most important I’ve ever baked,” she says.

She places it down in front of me, then whips the cover away. I stare down at the cake, my heart pounding, my smile spreading with more joy than a man like me is supposed to feel.

The icing on the cake reads, I’m pregnant, surrounded by four-leaf clovers.

I leap to my feet and pull her into my arms. “We’re going to have a family together,” I say.

“Are you happy?” she asks.

I clutch her tightly. “Happier than I’ve ever been. I love you so, so much.”

Epilogue

LUCY

Seven Months Later

Iwalk around The Celtic Crust, looking at the gleaming new kitchen surfaces, the clover wallpaper on the walls, brand new and beautiful. I walk upstairs into the cafe, appreciating the chalkboard where the prices and items will go, spinning to smile at the elevator, which will help those with mobility issues.

“You thought of everything,” I say, my voice getting croaky.

“Are you crying?” he murmurs, walking up behind me and wrapping his arms around me, pressing his body close to mine.

“It’s just… I never thought life could be this good,” I whisper. “After Mom, then all that crap with Shane. But we’re doing it.” My hand comes to rest on my swollen bump. “She’s kicking again.”

He smooths his hand to my belly, cradling me as our baby kicks. Finally, she settles down, and he holds me for a long time.

“I think the pregnancy hormones are making me just a little cray cray,” I say.

He laughs playfully, kissing my neck. “Alittle?”

“It’s like something’s going to go wrong. Can life really be this good? The family’s at peace. No danger, no gunfights, no trafficking, no shakedowns… We’re getting married in a week. Ellie and Nora already feel like family to me.”

“Nothing’s going to go wrong,” he says, gently turning me to face him.

I look up at my man, my future husband, still amazed that he’s mine. His blond hair catches the light, and his smile lights up my world. He’s wearing his work suit, suave and dashing.

“You deserve this,” he says passionately, then adds in Gaelic, “You’re the sun and the stars. You’re my oxygen. You’re my reason for living.”

I reply in my best Gaelic, “You’re everything to me… you’remytreasure.”

He smiles. “You make me so damn proud,” he says in English. Then he tilts his head, looking closely at me with a smirk. “Uh oh.”

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