Page 39 of Owned By the Mafia

“You’re not fucking helping,” Ronan roars, and I try not to laugh.

I sip my coffee and look at my brothers. “I am what I am, and I want what I want.”

“What you want is putting us in danger,” Ronan growls. “I’ve given you at least seven warnings in the last four days. For the love of the family, Robbie, please just lay off for a while.”

I don’t respond, but I do hand him my coffee. “I think I need a day off. It’s been busy these past couple of weeks.”

I walk down the corridor. I hear Ronan call for me, but Daniel tells him to let me go.

It’s true, Dina and I have been sneaking off to shag as much as possible. We wouldn’t have to if Ronan and Katya would stop conspiring against us. We can keep it from the boys until we figure out what to tell them.

Fuck, why can’t I have my happy ending? I text Dina about meeting in Central Park, and I head that way, making sure I’m not being followed.

We meet at a secluded spot we found some time ago. She’s already there when I arrive, and I take her in my arms, kissing her deeply.

“Ronan saw you leaving,” I say as we part.

“Shit, again?” She smiles mischievously.

I kiss her softly, my hands stroking her sides softly.

“Do you want to…” she whispers, sliding a hand down my stomach.

I catch her hand and shake my head. “No, I just want to be with you. I’m so tired of running around behind their backs. I want you in my bed, where I can eat you and savor you and make you see God.”

She blushes slightly, and I kiss her again. She presses herself against me. We find a spot to sit down and relax in each other's arms for most of the day, turning our phones off.

Eventually, we have to go our separate ways, though, before the families really have a shit fit. I walk her to her car and kiss her softly, stroking her face. “You’re mine,” I say firmly. “Only mine.”

She nods. “I am only yours as you are only mine.”

I smile, kiss her, and go back to my car.

I don’t even go to the pub for dinner. I’m still fuming with Ronan. I don’t need another lecture from my older brother. Fuck, I’m over forty. Why am I still getting lectures about how to date appropriately?

I go straight home, shower, and jump into bed. I lie there thinking of her. I drift off for what feels like seconds when my bedroom door slams open.

“You’re in shit,” Daniel says. “You’ve really fucked up this time.”

I sit bolt-upright and look around. “I didn’t do anything. I’m here alone… clearly.”

My phone buzzes, and I instinctively pick it up. Group message from an anonymous number. A photo of me kissing Dina in the Central Park car park.

“Fuck,” I murmur.

Then my phone rings, and Ronan’s number splays across the screen.

“I would answer it if I were you and be hopeful he doesn’t send you back to fucking Ireland.” Daniel paces my room.

“Ronan…”

“No. Shut it. I don’t want to hear a fucking peep from you, Robert Hilton Quinn.” Daniel can hear Ronan over the phone, and even he raises an eyebrow at the use of my formal birth name. “I warned you. I told you not to see her.”

“Ronan, I’ll take care of it.” Daniel shakes his head at my words.

“No, you fucking won’t cause, in case you didn’t read the men’s response, they want to tear you a new one. They don’t want to see or hear from you at all. You are housebound. No leaving the apartment, not even to come to the pub. Jarryd or Molly will bring your food. And this is an official order not to see Dina again. Under penalty of being cast out.”

Cast out? I’m his brother. My heart sinks in my chest. “Ronan…”

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