Chapter 42
Chapter Forty-Two
Killian
He didn’t sleep, but he couldn’t bring himself to leave his bed, either.
Every time he thought about quietly slipping out of his wife’s arms, he was gripped with such bone-deep terror he couldn’t bear the thought of leaving her.
He needed to be with her, to hear her deep breaths, to feel the steady beat of her heart as he held her.
So for once, he gave himself what he needed, even though there were others who wanted his attention.
After the day they’d had, he figured he was due a little indulgence.
He let her sleep as long as he could before rousing her. As always, she resisted at first, her nose doing that adorable little crinkle as she whined and tried to roll away.
“None of that, princess,” he scolded playfully, pulling her back against him. “It’s time to wake up. We, unfortunately, have responsibilities outside this room.”
“You have ‘sponsibilities,” she mumbled, burrowing into him. “I’m just a girl.”
He couldn’t help but laugh. “Perhaps, but you are also my wife, and that does indeed come with responsibilities. But if you’re still so very sleepy, perhaps a spanking would help wake you up.”
That got her attention. Jerking away, she glared up at him. “You wouldn’t!”
“I wouldn’t, what? Spank you for being a stubborn brat?” Chuckling, he cupped her face in his hand and dipped his head to brush a teasing kiss over her pouty lips. “What do you think, princess?”
“I think you’re a bossy jerk, is what I think. But fine. I’m getting up.”
He watched, delighted, as she rolled out of bed and stalked naked to his closet, where she’d moved some of her clothes over the past week. Their closet now, he supposed, and made a mental note to have the rest of her belongings brought over tomorrow.
Rising from the suddenly too-empty bed, he followed her into the closet, watching from the corner of his eye as she yanked a dress from a hanger and pulled it over her head. It was another of those dresses that clung lovingly to every curve.
He couldn’t wait to peel it off her later.
But they did, indeed, have responsibilities.
People who would be looking to him, to them, for answers.
So he forced himself to ignore the need stirring inside him and select his own clothes for the evening.
It was tempting to simply throw on a pair of slacks and a sweater, something he rarely did.
But his family would be expecting him to show up not just as the head of their family, but their leader as well.
A suit as usual, then. But once this was all said and done, once they had finally freed themselves of the criminal world they were so deeply entrenched in, he swore to himself he was never going to wear a suit within the confines of his own home again.
“Why are you glaring at your ties? Did one of them do something naughty?”
Blinking, he cleared his expression as he reached for a tie at random and looped it around his neck. “No. Just thinking.”
“About?”
He started to brush her off, to tell her it was nothing. But Reagan’s words still echoed in his mind, and even though he’d won Aria’s heart, keeping it would mean making himself vulnerable in ways he never had with another person.
“I was thinking how I’m looking forward to the day I don’t have to wear a suit at home.”
Stepping into him, she reached for his tie, expertly wrapping the silk length around itself as she peered up at him through her lashes. “So the suit is a mob boss thing, not a Killian thing?”
He just managed to hold back a wince at being called a mob boss. It didn’t matter how true it was, he still hated the term, especially from her. “I suppose. People have certain… expectations of a man in my position.”
“Down to what you wear.” She nodded, giving the tie a gentle tug.
“I get that. My dad’s the same way. Family time, he’s happy to wear jeans all day.
But when he’s working or at the club, it’s all suits all the time.
Judging people on their clothing choices instead of how kind they are or how much they contribute to society seems stupid to me, but I suppose that’s the world we live in. ”
With a final wiggle, his tie was in place and she looked up at him, her expression suddenly serious.
“For what it’s worth, I’m looking forward to the day you don’t feel like you have to wear this thing all the time too.
I want our child to grow up knowing you as Killian, not Killian O’Rourke, leader of the Irish mob. ”
“I want that, too.” More than he had even a decade ago when he’d first set off down this path. “I’m going to make it happen, Aria. For us and for our child.”
“Good. I plan to hold you to that promise.”
Aria
Hand in hand, they made their way down the stairs to the dining room, where the rest of the family was already waiting for them. It felt… heavier than before. Like a weight had come to rest on her shoulders between the last family dinner and now.
And, well, she supposed it had.
She stopped short when she realized the seat to Killian’s right had been left empty. Brody sat instead at Killian’s left, and when she met his eyes, he simply nodded his head toward the empty chair.
It’s just a chair. Stop making it weird.
But even as she stepped away from Killian, she knew it was so much more than a chair. That seat was a symbol of power, much like Killian’s suit, and by claiming it she wasn’t simply claiming a seat for dinner.
She was stepping fully into her role as Killian O’Rourke’s wife.
More weight, more responsibility she never would have asked for on her own. But she’d made her choices, so with her heart threatening to pound out of her chest, she settled on the seat that had been left open for her.
Killian pushed her chair in for her, and his hand came to rest on her shoulder. Only for a moment, but that moment was all she needed for her racing heart to settle. She was his, and he was hers, and together they’d put a stop to this madness and live out long, happy lives together.
They would. She wouldn’t have it any other way.
With her settled, Killian took his place at the head of the table, his gaze traveling around the table, pausing for a moment on each member of his family before he spoke.
“Our young cousin, Sean, was killed this afternoon in a cowardly, vicious attack on our family.”
Judging by the lack of reaction, they were all aware of the news, but the words still landed heavy in her gut. It was one thing to know it, even to have seen it, but having it stated so plainly hit harder than she’d expected it to.
Killian continued, his voice grim but strong. “Our contacts at the police have confirmed the hit was carried out by two of DeLuca’s men. One was fatally wounded by the police, the second is in custody. He will not survive the night.”
A chill raced up her spine. This was a version of her husband she’d only caught glimpses of so far, the ruthless mob boss who could calmly discuss ending a man’s life with the same inflection as if he were discussing what to have for dinner.
It was equal parts terrifying and enthralling.
He waited, but if he was expecting objections, none came. Seemingly satisfied by the lack of response, he nodded and pulled in a deep breath. “I owe you all an apology.”
Unlike his declaration that he intended to have a man killed, his offer of an apology did provoke a reaction. Furious objections, peppered with enough curse words to make a sailor blush, echoed around the table.
Killian simply waited for them to die out before continuing.
“I owe you an apology because when I sat down with all of you ten years ago and laid out my plan to break our ties with the criminal elements of our city, I promised I would do so with as little bloodshed as possible. I sat right here at this very table and vowed we wouldn’t have to go to war. I lied.”
War. The word itself seemed to crawl inside her, digging tiny little claws of terror into her heart.
She must have reacted without realizing it, because he reached for her beneath the table, gripping her hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze.
“You didn’t lie.” Reagan’s voice was fierce, full of the raging fury Aria could see burning in her eyes. “You have done everything right. You’ve renegotiated contracts, you’ve ensured everyone’s businesses could carry on without us. You aren’t responsible for their greed or their cowardice.”
The men around the table murmured their agreement, and she caught a flicker of relief in Killian’s eyes before they went carefully blank once more.
“Be that as it may, this is my mess, so it’s my responsibility to clean it up.
If anyone at this table would rather walk away and not be involved, I won’t hold it against you. ”
Silence filled the room, the weight of it somehow heavy and uplifting all at once. The weight of men and women who knew the cost of what they were taking on, but were willing to stand by each other through it regardless.
And her husband sat through it, once again meeting the gaze of every soldier he commanded until he finally gave a single, silent nod.
“It’s decided, then. We’re going to war.”