Page 27 of Knocked up by the Mafia

I sniff and fight back the tears, but he just walks past me. He’s never been that cold to me, and I know there’s no fighting his decision.

I am a prisoner in my own family.

Chapter 16 - Daniel

I shouldn’t keep fighting with Nat, but I can’t help it. I’m constantly worried that she will get seen or caught, which would cost us everything. I let her walk out that door and regretted it before she was even through. I need to make things right for both of us, so we can be in a relationship without having to look over our shoulders all the time.

There’s only one person who could even begin to help me solve this problem.

Ronan Quinn is my older brother by five years, and he’s never let anyone forget it. He’s the powerful boss of the most prominent Irish family in New York City. Like my father and grandfather before him, my brother likes things to be old-school and traditional, and although his reputation is well-known, people keep his name off their lips.

I stop outside the pub and park. I exit the car but ignore my brother’s men staring at me as I walk into the pub and sit at the bar. My brother is leaning against the back counter, polishing a glass with a cloth. I signal to the waitress behind the bar and nod. “Pint of whatever’s going.”

“I got this, lass,” Ronan says, setting the glass down. He takes a fresh one from the shelf and then goes to the tap and fills the glass. He sets it before me and leans on the bar. “What have you gotten yourself into?”

“I need to get some Sicilian families off a bounty. I need your help.”

“Have you considered my offer?” he asks, looking at his hands.

“Can’t. I married a Volkov. I was hoping to pay cash for this favor.” I sip the beer, not looking at him.

“A Volkov? Before I tell you what I know, tell me how you got onto her scent.” Ronan takes a whiskey bottle and pours himself a shot.

“I was hired to kill her.” I finally look at him.

Ronan nods. “By these Sicilians?”

“She killed the one Don’s son to secure a great deal of money for Ivan Volkov. So she cost Don Russo a son and a lucrative deal with an African dictator.” I set my beer down and, holding the glass stare into it. “I love her.”

“Enough to risk your own life, apparently, little brother.” He downs his whiskey and smacks his lips. “But you needn’t worry about the little fact you’re married to her. Apparently, your marriage to the Bratva girl is annulled. She’s not your problem anymore.”

The words sting more than I expect. She had the marriage annulled? Was she really that angry with me? I sit and think about Ronan’s words. The hurt I’m feeling is a new emotion for me. New? No, maybe just something I haven’t felt since I was a lad. Before I learned that life is unfair and harsh and doesn’t give you a chance. Maybe it hadn’t been Natalia’s decision, or maybe Ivan had forced her to do it or did it without her knowing.

I want to message and ask her, but I must first fix everything and explain why she must marry me again.

“You’re a free man, Danny boy.” Ronan pours another shot of whiskey and pours a second, pushing it toward me. “We can toast to that. Now, I’ll arrange a meeting with these Dons so you can bargain with them if you swear you’ll join the family again.”

A group of men walk into the pub and sit in a booth at the end of the room. I down the whiskey and shake my head.

“We can negotiate the terms, but I want what I want, and you won’t change my mind.” I look into his eyes, my eyes, our mother's eyes.

Ronan leans on his forearms so his face is close to mine. “What’s that?”

“Natalia.” I don’t shy away from the request. “I want her to be my wife, I want her to be mine, and if you can make that happen, I will be the little soldier that you need.”

Ronan chuckles. “You always were stubborn as a mule. Ma would say once you got something into your head, it would be impossible to change your mind.”

He stands straight and nods behind me. I glance back and see both my younger brothers coming toward us. Robbie is smoking a cigarette while our baby brother, the golden child is what I call him, smiles at me.

Jarryd was a late lamb, twenty years younger than me, and sadly he only got two years with our Ma before she passed. Ronan and I raised him, taught him how to survive life, and protected him until he was old enough to care for himself.

I stand and turn and hug my little brother—all four brothers in one room, all dark red-haired soldiers of the Quinn family.

“It’s good to see you, Dan,” Jarryd says happily, pulling away. “You’ve missed a lot since you’ve been gone.”

“You haven’t changed at all. Neither has Robbie.” I jerk a thumb behind me in Ronan’s direction. “And this dickhead aged a thousand years.”

“I’m like fine wine,” Ronan announces. “I get better with age.”

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