Page 97 of Vicious Hearts

Well…fuck me.

I can honestly say I’d never have expected to use the word “diplomatic” when it came to describing the rebellious, defiant, perpetual middle-finger-raising little would-be-assassin I just married.

But here we are.

I’m intrigued.

Veryintrigued.

Liam’s whole face changes from sneering disdain to—surprise—an actual, honest-to-fucking-Godsmile. He reaches out and takes her hands in his—which has the bizarre effect of making furysurgeinside of me, to the point where my teeth flash and I start to move toward them.

“I don’t know where you found her, Cillian...”

Dominic’s voice rips me from the murderous fugue state I temporarily fell into.

Liam taking his fucking hands off hers helps, too.

“But, thank God you did. I mean, she’sgood, Cill.”

The red mist clears from my face as I watch Liam smile at my bride.

“I…misjudged you, Mrs. Kildare.”

Mrs. Kildare.

Fuck, I might like the sound of that a bit too much.

Una smiles as she squeezes his arm—bringing a fresh wave of confusingly murderous thoughts to my head.

“I appreciate that, Mr. McCarthy. Again, you have my deepest condolences for the past.”

He smiles. “Thank you, Mrs. Kildare. The organization, and Cillian, is lucky to have you.”

“You’re too kind. And it’s just Ms. O’Conor, not Mrs. Kildare.”

My jaw ticks.

Yeah,thatwill need addressing.

They shake hands once more, both of them smiling before Liam pulls away and heads my way.

“One fucking hell of a diplomat,” Dominic mumbles under his breath.

Yeah, and where the fuck was that sense of diplomacy when she was stabbing sharp pointy things into me?

Liam comes to a stop in front of me, clearing his throat sheepishly as he extends his hand.

“Cillian, I owe you an apology.”

The cynical part of me wants to call him a treasonous little shit, and furthermore tell him I’ll still be burning his fucking family’s businesses to the fuckinggroundfor his call for insurrection.

Instead, I take a page from my surprisingly diplomatic bride.

“The past is in the past, Liam,” I growl. “Are we good?”

He grins. “We’re more than good, Cillian. I herby re-pledge complete loyalty of the McCarthy family to you and the Kildare empire.” And then the fucker actually gets down on his knee before shaking my hand.

I mean, it’d carry a little more weight if he hadn’t been calling for open war all of five fucking days ago. But I also have to remind myself just how deep his hatred for Seamus O’Conor undoubtedly runs.

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