My Irish Mafia King

Epilogue

KILLIAN

Six Weeks Later

“ I t’s coming along nicely,” I say, shaking the building manager’s hand when I arrive at the bakery. “I’m going to take some photos for my fiancé, but so far, everything looks great.”

I walk around the bakery, taking photos of the walls, the wiring, and the Celtic-themed wallpaper which has gone up in certain sections so my woman can give her opinion, then moving onto the kitchen, which is still in the early stages. Still, it’s better than it was before.

Life is far better than I ever could’ve imagined before my lucky charm stole my heart. I’ve cleaned up the Family, sticking to cut-price electronics, financial crime, political blackmail, and legitimate businesses. Maybe one day, we’ll turn completely legitimate, but this, at least, is a step in the right direction.

Lucy is taking culinary courses and working as a dessert specialist in several of my restaurants while she waits for the bakery to be rebuilt. She’s the best mafia queen a king could ever hope for, handling herself with poise any time we go to an official event together.

Life gets better when we’re alone, those beautiful moments when it’s just me and her and our lust and love. My body stirs when I think about last night. When she insisted she went on top and rode me with heated passion, her body swaying as she pulsed around me, so much confidence imbuing her, I became even more addicted than I already am.

Normally, she visits the bakery with me, but this afternoon, she said she wanted to stay at home to work on a special project.

After taking the photos, I get into my car and tell my driver to take me to the apartment. I’m keen to see what my treasure is working on that’s so important.

I love watching her bake, the passion she brings to even the most basic tasks… or the concentration on her face when she’s icing something with the skill of an artist.

When I enter the apartment, she meets me at the end of the hallway, wearing an apron with adorable dots of flour on her face. I sink my hands greedily into her hips, pulling her in for a kiss.

“It’s not ready yet,” she says breathlessly. “Avoid the kitchen until I say it’s time, okay?”

“Are you all right, angel?”

“Just give me a little more time.”

“You’re being more mysterious than I was in Ireland.”

“Yeah, right.”

When she turns away, I can’t help but indulgently spank her ass. She looks at me over her shoulder, pouting temptingly. “Be good.”

“For now, queenie.”

She laughs at the new nickname, then returns to the kitchen. I step into my office to answer some emails. Being mafia king, as well as running the restaurants, means serious work, but it’s worth it to keep the city safe and to provide for my mother, my sister, and the love of my life.

Soon, there’s a knock at the door. She brings in a covered plate. Her honey-colored eyes move away from me when I try to catch her eyes, as though she’s afraid to meet mine.

“I take it this is an important dish,” I mutter.

“The most important I’ve ever baked,” she says.

She places it down in front of me, then whips the cover away. I stare down at the cake, my heart pounding, my smile spreading with more joy than a man like me is supposed to feel.

The icing on the cake reads, I’m pregnant, surrounded by four-leaf clovers.

I leap to my feet and pull her into my arms. “We’re going to have a family together,” I say.

“Are you happy?” she asks.

I clutch her tightly. “Happier than I’ve ever been. I love you so, so much.”