Page 80 of Dirty Padraig: Dirty Dusters

Does that make our relationship less real or more? I think it’s the latter because every single virtual moment we’ve ever spent together has been filled with real words.

You can’t send a silent message. You can’t make a silent call.

And he was right. He does know me better than anyone else ever has. But is the relationship truly real when no one knows you exist?

Things could have been so different had he told his family about me. He didn’t. Maybe there was a reason for that.

Of course, there was. He never asked for anything more from me because he didn’t think he deserved anything more. Because he believes he cheated. But he didn’t. Not that it matters now.

I stare at my phone. At the absence of anything from him since the morning after the attack. He used to light up my screen a million times a day. I guess it’s Sophia’s screen he’s illuminating these days.

They’re happily married, Jaine. What do you expect?

More. I guess I expected more.

Declan:I’ll pick you up at 8.00 am.

I stare at the message. I don’t respond or acknowledge. There’s no point.

I’ll just be ready to leave at the stipulated time like a good girl.

CHAPTERTWENTY-FIVE

PADRAIG

Private Clinic, Upper East Side, New York

“Your wife is a veryfit and healthy young woman, Mr. O’Connell. There’s no reason why conception shouldn’t be swift once you start trying.”

I stare at Dr. Abella forcing a polite smile as I glance around his clinical white office. Its walls are adorned with proof of his qualifications, and the surface of his pine-colored desk is covered with images of him, his wife, and their two children. All perfectly displayed to assure his wealthy clients that he’s the best man for the job when it comes to assisting them in all matters procreation.

In exchange for armfuls of their hard-earned cash, of course. I’m sure most couples sitting before him would be delighted to hear thishappynews.

I am. I’m not.

I’ve gone through the contract line by line. If I provide the Ruoccos with a Duster heir to allow them to maintain their alliance with my family, I’m effectively off the hook. That’s all Luc was interested in.

Or so he says.

I suspect there’s more to it than that, but that’s all he was prepared to give away during our ten-minute telephone conversation. It’s my guess the child is the second bite at the Duster cherry.

What was the first, I wonder?

I suspect Luc had known for a while that his days with the Cosa Nostra were numbered for reasons unknown to anyone outside the organization. That he manipulated the situation so he could retain the don ship until after Sophia and I had taken the vows, all so my family would be none the wiser.

I’m told Eoin unearthed the unwelcome news on my wedding day, and only because he backed the new don, Leoluca Di Matteo, into a corner, giving him no option but to admit the truth.

My wedding should never have taken place. It offered no political advantage to my family whatsoever. My life was ruined for nothing.

And now here I am, sitting staring at a balding, middle-aged pleasant enough man who’s wearing a beaming smile as he tells me the news he thinks I’ve been desperate to hear.

That the love of my life will be able to bear the fruit of my loins and provide me with an army of mobster children.

I wish.

Instead, I have to impregnate the Sicilian viper sitting beside me. That’s on the basis that I’m not firing blanks, of course. All my life, I’ve used a condom. The only time I didn’t was with Jaine and then Sophia.

Jaine didn’t get pregnant. Sophia didn’t either.

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