Chapter Two
Caity
“No. I don’t want to talk to you. I don’t even want to look at you!”
Maddie ran upstairs as I stood there, tears streaming down my face. I wanted to follow her, but I knew my daughter. She wouldn’t talk to me. Not like this.
“Caity.”
I turned and looked at Cian. “Fuck you!” I spat and then stormed out, slamming the door behind me.
I rushed down the steps of the brownstone, and I heard the door slam again.
“Caitlin Marie O’Malley!”
I stopped in my tracks and closed my eyes. I should have known he’d come after me. I didn’t turn around. I hadn’t spoken to him since he’d come back from New Orleans.
I hadn’t spoken to any of them.
“You can’t run from this shit.”
I spun around. “Why not? You fuckin’ do.”
“That’s not fair, Caity, and you know it.”
“Don’t talk to me about what’s fair, Sal. Nothing in my life has been fair. There was only one choice I ever made in my life that was my own, and it came back to bite me in the ass.”
“You should have told him.”
I rolled my eyes at my brother. He didn’t understand what things had been like for me. He never would.
“You never should have fucked him!”
My hands fisted at my sides. I rolled my lips between my teeth and inhaled slowly. I would try to contain my temper. I reminded myself I was on the street, not in the privacy of my home.
Turning around, I walked off.
“Caity!”
I held up my hand over my shoulder, giving my brother the bird.
He could go fuck himself. They all could.
I pulled my coat tighter against the cold.
It might be the middle of April, but Boston in the spring, while beautiful with its budding flowers, still had a wind chill to rival the winter temperatures.
I didn’t live far from Duncan and Freyja. It was only a few blocks away. Maddie and I hadn’t walked there together; we just happened to arrive at the same time. She climbed out of the cab, and the moment her eyes locked onto me, I knew she knew.
I didn’t know how she knew or who might have told her. But if she knew, it meant Cian knew. And Sal knew.
Sal loved me, and nothing I did would change that. I felt the same way about him. We’d argued and fought our whole lives, but we never stopped loving each other. Never stopped being there for each other.
I’d never forget the way he looked when he came home from Nebraska in December. When he told me about King.
The knock on the door startled me. Ever since my husband disappeared, it was like I had disappeared too. Women I thought were friends had stopped calling. Word had gotten around about what Nolan had done.
You couldn’t betray the Bratva and live to tell the tale. And what he’d done hadn’t just betrayed Maxim Fedorov’s wife, Illyria. He had betrayed Maddie. No one got away with hurting my daughter.
I made excuses for Nolan. I’d been doing it for years. But when the truth came out about my grandson, and what Nolan had done to get his father killed.
That was the final straw. The camel’s back wasn’t just broken; it was irreparable.
I looked through the window and saw my brother standing on the step. Pulling the door open, I smiled, but it quickly dropped when I saw the state he was in.
“What happened?”
Braesal O’Malley was the head of the Irish Mob in Boston, answering only to our cousin, Brian Buchannon, who ran the IRA in Ireland. It took a lot to put the look my brother had on his face there. I’d only seen it a few times.
When Darcy left, followed by his mother, Kathleen, and his stepfather and little brother, Declan. And then again when Kathleen and Curran were killed.
I grabbed his arm and pulled him inside. Closing the door, I led him to the kitchen table and grabbed the whiskey from the counter. It might only be ten in the morning, but it was afternoon in Ireland.
I slid the glass across the table and poured another for myself. Then, sitting down in the chair next to Sal, I waited.
“I have a son.”
My eyes bulged out of my head as I lifted the glass and took a healthy sip. Of all the things he could have said, that wasn’t even in the realm of possibility.
His hand spun the glass, but he never lifted it. I was afraid to speak. I had so many questions, but where would I start? Instead, I took another sip.
Sal looked up at me, tears in his eyes. I was the only person he let see him when he was vulnerable. He was my best friend, even if I couldn’t tell him my secrets.
“Darcy left because she was pregnant. She moved south with my mother, gave birth to my son and then left him.”
“Kingston?” I asked.
Kathleen and Curran had moved away when Sal was seventeen. Declan had been twelve, and they’d taken him with them. The story was, he’d been offered a job he couldn’t pass up.
It had devastated Sal when she moved away. And he wasn’t the only one. Kathleen had been a second mom to me. She and my mother were close. They’d made a choice to raise us together, forging a sibling bond despite them both being cast off by our father.
Sal nodded and finally lifted the glass to his lips. I stared at him as he drank the contents of the glass and set it down empty. Without a word, I picked up the bottle, pouring another round.
I sat with my brother all afternoon as he told me about his son. About Declan and Maureen. I was happy she was happy, but I was angry at Declan and Kathleen.
And Darcy. Wherever the fuck she was.
I could only hope Sal would forgive me. I knew he’d never stop loving me, but given what Darcy had done to him, this might be the one thing that could drive a wedge between us.
The house was cold and empty when I returned. I knew Maddie wouldn’t be home tonight. She’d likely stay with Duncan and Freyja.
I liked Freyja. She was a little crazy, but she was good for Duncan. He put his life on hold after Darcy left. Focused everything he had on the family and working for Eamon, and then with Sal.
He deserved some happiness. And there was no question that Freyja made him happy. Just watching the two of them together made me smile. It also left a heavy feeling in the pit of my stomach.
I wanted what they had.
It was all I’d ever wanted.
With Cian.
But my life wasn’t mine to choose. I didn’t get to make my own decisions. Even now, I wanted to do what Maureen had done. I had the money. I could buy my way out.
But I couldn’t leave Boston. I loved it here, and unlike Maureen, I’d never dreamed of anywhere else. Boston was my home. It always would be. I hadn’t wanted to live in New York. But no one ever asked me what I wanted.
Except Cian.
Twenty-nine years ago...
I let my dress drop to the floor. Standing in the middle of the room in just my bra and panties, I waited. Cian’s eyes roamed over me, never settling on one spot for very long. It was as if his eyes couldn’t get enough of me.
“What do you want, Caity?”
“You.”
He licked his lips as he stared at me. His hand rubbed the back of his neck, and he wore his indecision like a cloak. The desire in his eyes was unmistakable, but he hesitated.
He was my brother’s friend.
My father’s soldier.
My husband’s enemy.
Cian hated Nolan. I didn’t know why, but they’d always been at odds with each other. And right at this very moment, I didn’t care how much Cian wanted me. I wanted him, and I found myself praying that his hatred for Nolan would spur on his need to conquer me.
I wanted him to use my body to fuel his vengeance.
He walked toward me slowly, removing his jacket and laying it across the back of the chair. As he loosened his tie, he said, “No one can ever know, banphrionsa.”
I knew he was right, but I wanted the world to know. Everyone knew Nolan wasn’t faithful to me. My father encouraged it. He said men had more needs than one woman could fulfill. It was the reason he’d never married. The reason he’d convinced Sal that Darcy wasn’t worth looking for.
Because men had needs.
As if women didn’t. But where my father was concerned, women’s needs didn’t matter beyond food, clothing, and shelter. That was what he provided my mother and Kathleen. He’d given them a home, and a stipend to make sure we were raised the right way. Because that was a woman’s job.
To raise children.
“I won’t tell if you don’t.” It was the only answer I could give. And it was honest. I would never tell. Nolan would kill me if he ever knew. And my father would kill Cian. All I would be allowed was this one night.
Cian stopped in front of me, and I raised my hands to the placket of his shirt. One by one, I slipped the buttons through the holes, and when I finished, I grazed my hands over his chest as I slipped the shirt off his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor.
He held me hostage with his steamy gaze as I reached for his belt. I quickly unbuckled it and pulled it from the loops. He removed it from my hands and placed it around the back of my neck. Holding each end, he pulled me forward until his lips were on mine.
My hands went to his waist, and his skin was hot. My eyes closed, and already I felt more from his kiss than I had ever felt from Nolan. I pressed against him, wanting to be closer. I let my hands wander over his body. His chest, his abs, his back, his ass. I couldn’t get enough of him.
“Cian, please.”
“What do you want, banphrionsa?”
“I want more. More of you,” I whispered. I’d never felt so bold. The belt fell to the floor, and he trailed kisses across my jaw and down my throat. His hands slid down my shoulders, caressing my arms, causing a shiver to wrack my body.
I’d never known anything like this. My body tingled everywhere he touched. Everywhere he kissed. His hands grasped my buttocks, and I gasped when my feet left the floor. Wrapping my legs around his waist and my arms around his shoulders, I kissed him fervently as he walked toward the bed.
I woke with a start. The dream always ended there. For over two decades, all I’d had of him were my memories. I’d hoped that with Nolan gone, maybe there would be an opportunity for us to rekindle what we’d had that night.
A chance to let the flame that was lit that night burn bright and full. But now I knew it would never work. He knew the truth, and he’d never forgive me for keeping his child from him. For not being strong enough to go against my father. Against the church.
I’d been afraid to live, afraid to love him openly. Instead, I’d lived the life that was chosen for me. Forsaking my own happiness and his—for tradition.
I’d let my fear and insecurity become my prison. And my daughter’s heartache. Even if by some miracle Cian forgave me. I knew Maddie never would.
I didn’t deserve her forgiveness.
I didn’t deserve happiness.
Not when my sins took hers away.