My Irish Mafia King

Chapter 25

Twenty-Five

LUCY

" I 'm going to bed," Anna says around ten PM. "Do you want me to take this little one?"

I look up, hardly registering her words. Killian texted me, saying he was coming home soon but needed to handle some Family-related matters first. That was four hours ago, and now my mind is playing an unhelpful lowlight reel of everything that could've gone wrong in the meantime.

"Yes, please," I say after a pause.

"I can stay up if you want?" Anna asks softly.

"You've got work tomorrow. I can't derail your life forever. Seriously, Anna, I'm fine... and thank you."

She walks over, leaning down for a hug. I hold tightly onto my friend. Once she's gone, I pull my knees to my chest and try not to think about Killian with a red smear across his face, or his chest torn open, or a thousand other sick visions that won't leave me alone.

I go to the kitchen, grabbing another scone and slathering it with cream. I'm comfort eating. Sue me. The scones are pretty darn good, if I say so myself, and it takes my mind off the stress for a few moments. I slather another with jam and cream, then almost choke on it when I hear the front door open.

I run to the hallway. Killian walks into the apartment, looking... darker than usual. It's not one specific thing. It's more like his aura. It's like there's a burden dragging him down, circumstances weighing heavily on him.

Rushing toward my man, I throw myself into his arms, clinging tightly onto his body. When he winces, I lean away. "What's wrong?"

"It's nothing," he growls.

I move my hands to his shirt, undoing a button when I see a nasty purple bruise sticking out. I undo two more buttons, then open the shirt flap. "What happened?" I gasp.

"I ended it," he says fiercely. "I took a bullet from Owen in the process. I was wearing a bulletproof vest. It's over. They're both dead. Nobody is loyal to them anymore. Oh, and remember Shane? It turns out he was one of the men who attacked the bakery. I didn't realize until after I'd handled Owen and Frank. He's dead too: killed by my men as a sign of loyalty."

His voice is distant, numb, not at all like the smiling, happy, charming man who visited me every morning for so many months. I take his hand and lead him to the couch, knowing I need to be here for him right now. I sit him down and gently slide my hand over his.

"I'm here," I whisper. "If you want to talk about it, we can talk."

He looks at me bleakly. "This is the day everything changes. I've killed two people today. Not just killed, either. I put bullets in Owen even after he was dead. I kept thinking about what he said to you, the threats, how he would've used you if he had the chance."

"You did what you had to do," I say.

"That's giving me the easy way out," he replies. "I did what the mafia king inside me wanted, what the demon wanted. From now on, I'll have to feed that side of me, the darkness, the violence, so that somebody worse doesn't take over."

I lean in for a kiss, but he turns his face away. I kiss his cheek instead, carefully looping my arms around his body and cuddling into him, cautious not to hurt his livid bruise.

"Why won't you kiss me?" I whisper.

"I need you more than I need breath, a stór . But is it fair? I'm a killer. I'm a criminal. I've done bad things, and one day, I'll need to do bad things again to keep my throne."

I grab his face, turn him toward me, and kiss him with more heat and passion. Relief flows through me when he groans and moves his hands to my hips, pulling himself closer as he kisses me back, matching my energy.

"I want you, Killian," I tell him. "All of you, the good and the bad. I want a life together. You can't say anything to scare me away. I need you, always."

Slowly, a smile touches his lips. "I need you," he whispers.

I bring my hand to his face, brushing the cream from my scone off his mouth. "Do I have cream all around my mouth?" I ask.

"You did," he says, smirking. "But we kissed it away."

"I may or may not have been comfort eating," I whisper.

"Don't say that like you're guilty," he growls. "I want you curvy... the curvier the better. I love sinking my hands into your curves. I love massaging your beautiful thickness. I love you, Lucy. And I'm not crossing it out this time."

"I love you too," I say, clinging onto his neck, pulling myself close for another kiss.

We sink into the passion. It's like I can feel the darkness draining away.

"I know you're worried about feeding the bad side of you," I whisper. "But isn't that even more of a reason for us to be together? I can feed the good. I can remind you, every single day, what an amazing man you really are."

His eyes glisten, but he doesn't cry, though he looks like he could. "Are you tired?"

"No. Why?"

"I want to show you something. Let's go for a ride."

"Is it safe?"

"You never have to worry about being unsafe," he says. "I'm the king, and this city belongs to me, to us. Nobody is going to hurt you. I'm going to protect you."

"You said this life is dangerous. You said there will always be a risk."

"That was before I put on the crown," he growls. "That was before I tasted what real power is. Before I built my legend. No, a stór . Nobody, ever, is going to hurt you. If anybody even thinks about it, I'll tear them to pieces."

"Are you sure you're okay?" I ask as he drives us through the city, wincing slightly.

"It's just a bruise."

"It's not just a bruise. It's covering your whole chest. I'm shocked you didn't break a rib."

"I can handle the pain. I can take anything when I've got you."

I place my hand on his leg, loving him more than I can even understand. Now that we've said "I love you," my heart feels free to express the love I've held back for so long.

"Are we going to the bakery?" I ask as he guides us through the streets.

He nods. "That's what I wanted to show you."

"A burned-out husk, all my ruined stuff inside, my Mom's dream gone?"

At a red light, he turns to me, emotion burning from his handsome features. "You’ll never be able to replace those memories," he says. "But you’ll be able to make your mother proud. You’ll be able to honor her legacy."

" We’ll do it," I tell him. "Together."

He smiles. "I like the sound of that."

Finally, we arrive at The Celtic Crust. Tears fill my eyes when I see that the rebuilding process has already begun. They have put up metal fences around The Crust, and a large metal container is overflowing with rubble.

"The bones of the building survived," he tells me. "I’m going to replace everything else... except..."

"Yeah?" I whisper, turning to him.

"I was thinking you could turn the upstairs into a seating area, perhaps with an Irish theme. You won’t need an apartment anymore..."

I laugh, tears sliding warmly down my cheeks. "Is that your way of asking me to move in with you?"

He kisses my cheek, kissing away the tears. "I need you every single night. What would I do without my lucky charm?"

"I think it’s a great idea," I tell him. "It’s so thoughtful... as long as you’re sure you can deal with my midnight baking sessions and watching me pig out."

"That’s the second time you’ve mentioned that," he says huskily. "Do you need me to prove that I love your curvy body? Is that the game you’re playing?"

He slides his hand up my leg as he crushes his lips against mine. I’ll never tire of the first moments of a kiss, the point of steamy contact when the rest of the world melts away and ceases to matter.

"I forgot," he murmurs, breathy between our kisses. "Tomorrow evening, I need you at my side, as my queen. I’m being officially sworn in as Don, so this is your last chance..."

"An Irish storm washed away any chance I had of not loving you," I say passionately. "You’re the only man for me. Complications or not, darkness or not... you’ve always been the only man for me, and it’s time you accepted that."

We kiss again, and then I slide into his lap, feeling his manhood push through his pants. We rock together until somebody’s headlights shine into the car.

He gently pushes me aside, trembling. "I can't let anybody else see you getting steamy and excited," he groans. "The mood I'm in, I'm liable to hurt them for daring to look at you when you're like that."

"Is it bad? I like it when you get jealous and protective."

He smooths my hair from my face, cradling my cheek. "No—and you better get used to it."