13. Saoirse
Saoirse
Fantastic Past
This is how married life feels to me. One year slides into the next one, same as the days slide by with the minutes and hours.
Every time I dig deep to look for my hatred of the devil, I get the shivers. Like his hand still rests on my shoulder. Like his eyes can still stare into my soul.
My life has purpose. With Patrick retired, I’m in charge of property development and real estate acquisitions and sales.
Everything is still in the Byrne name, but I run it on behalf of both families. Hey, it gives me a reason to get up in the mornings, so I’m not complaining.
Rian sidles into the morning room. He’s mock-serious, but I can see it’s an act. He’s secretly thrilled.
“Eamon O’Shea died last night, Boss. Can you believe it? The same day of Connor O’Shea’s funeral. The last O’Shea standing followed hot on his brother’s heels to heaven.”
Declan lowers his device and fixes his eyes on Rian. “How did he die?”
Rian can’t be bothered hiding his happiness. “Heart attack. They found him at home, sitting in his armchair in front of the telly like a fecking duchess. The guy he had driving him around has gone, and so’s the car. Rats fleeing a sinking ship.”
Declan moves his gaze over to me. I gaze right back over the rim of my teacup.
“First Connor, now Eamon. The O’Sheas weren’t built to last the course.”
Rian adds. “First Finn, then Connor, then Eamon. Eamon was a drunk and a slob. It’s no surprise he passed.”
Declan taps the side of his nose. “Ah, there’s no proof that the O’Shea enforcer is dead. But the boy may as well be. There’s nothing left for him to inherit.”
The way they talk about Finn makes me want to cross myself and say a Hail Mary. I don’t think a devil can die.
I have something to ask. “Why didn’t Eamon marry? Connor didn’t exactly have a quiverful of kids. One of Eamon’s spawns might’ve had a crack at the crown.”
My husband decides that deserves an answer. “Eamon fell in love with your Mam, Saoirse. After she chose Patrick, Eamon lost the plot. The demon drink claimed him.”
This is news to me. “Are you sure Eamon was an O’Shea and not a changeling?”
Rian and Declan eye me out, but it’s Declan who answers. “No one called Eamon a by-blow to his face. I would’ve heard about it.”
It’s little moments like this that bring me life. “It’s not wise to steal a made man’s sweetheart. Doing something like that could make husbands drop dead.”
Declan places his device on the table and drinks the last of his coffee.
“Patrick didn’t consider someone like Eamon a threat. And nor did your grandparents. They wanted Maire to have power, not be stuck behind a bar counter.”
I catch Rian crossing himself at the mention of my mam’s name.
“I wasn’t talking about Eamon.” It feels good to snap back.
My husband sneers. “Lucky for me Finn O’Shea got tired of you before he fecked off and died, Saoirse. Like I said, O’Sheas don’t have it in them to last the course.”
Rian chuckles. “It’s scarlet for you I am, Saoirse.”
The two men go out and leave me alone with my thoughts.
I cross myself. “Say his name and shame the devil.” It’s been so long since I heard the name of Finn O’Shea said out loud, and it still sounds like a curse.
A fiery burn mounts into my cheeks; it’s not from embarrassment but anger. I might not have known my worth back when I was a scant three years clear of attending high school, but I know it now.
I’m worth so much more than I used to be. I’m no pawn.
I don’t need the covert admiring glances from Declan’s soldiers to tell me I’m a fucking amazing-looking ride.
And I sure don’t need the accountant telling me I have a good grasp of business. I can read the numbers for myself.
I won’t let one moment of youthful weakness define the woman I am today.
Because I can’t shake the feeling that he’s somewhere out there. Watching, waiting, willing me to come find him.
Not because he loves me, but because the claim he staked on my body needs to hear Finn’s rejection for itself before I can start over. Telling me in a letter was never going to be enough.
And if he’s dead, then Finn O’Shea is definitely haunting me.
Maybe he’s in heaven, because the Lord knows he got so close to showing me paradise.
Maybe he’s in hell—who knows better than me that he deserves to burn—but the devil he is would probably enjoy it there.
Finn’s story isn’t over until I say it is. I won’t close the book on him until I’ve gotten some kind of revenge. That’s the benefit of having money and power.
It allows me to control the narrative.
If a Maguire or Byrne says someone’s gone, it’s the same as being dead. No one exists in our world unless we say they do.
Eamon O’Shea loved my mam. It’s a fucking small world.
I hold my breath the same as they do in the old country when walking past crossroads.
“Ar dheis Dé go raibh a anam.” May Eamon’s soul sit at the right hand of God. But Eamon was an O’Shea, so I have a feeling he’ll be somewhere smoking hot right now.
If he’d been the one to win Mam’s heart, that would’ve made Finn my brother instead of my seducer and destroyer. Weird.
I need to shake the doldrums out of my head. I go looking for Rian because he needs to be reminded how much power I wield.
He’s in the kitchen, chatting up one of the maids. Perfect.
“Rian! Don’t make me give out to you, lad! Leave Jessica alone. She knows you’re walking out with Helena.”
Jessica shoots dagger eyes at Rian as she flounces away. “No, I bloody-well did not!” She can’t tell him off the way he deserves. Rian sits at Declan’s table after all.
But the person who lies beside Declan in bed is always going to trump that. I give the order casually. “Now that you’re free, Rian, I need you to drive me.”
My hate needs somewhere to land and Rian’s my target. He doesn’t trust me and I’m too cautious to let him know that the feeling is mutual. At the end of the day, the boss’s wife gets to boss him around.
He understands that, but his manly pride doesn’t like it.
“I’ll get the key fob, Mrs. Maguire.”
“Yeah. You do that, Rian.”
In the car, I can feel Rian checking me in the rearview mirror. “It was only a harmless bit of fun, Saoirse. You won’t tell Helena about it, will you?”
Helena’s Greek-Cypriot with Eastern Orthodox parents. I’m going to give Rian the advice no one ever bothered giving me.
“You’d be better off dumping Helena and going for Jessica. There’s no way Declan would let you leave the Maguire troops, Rian. You know too much.” Let you leave the Maguire troops alive.
He keeps staring at the road. “I can’t. Her heart sits inside my own.”
Something screams silently inside me. I remember Rian finding me on the docks and dragging me back to marry Declan. How they all smirked after reading Finn’s letter of rejection to me.
“A game of chess doesn’t need a pawn to win.” Even when I whisper it the words still hurt.
Rian keeps his eye on the road. “What was that?” When I don’t reply, he turns around at the next red traffic light and tries to guess the reason behind my tears. “Why are you mourning Eamon O’Shea?”
“Because there’s no one else left to do it.”
***
I’m lying in bed, my limbs heavy with heat. The languid sensuality floods my core and sets my tides rising.
I’m waiting for him to come. I can’t wait. Everything was just a big misunderstanding.
We are doomed to love forever. I can’t wait for him to demonstrate his obsession with my mouth and breasts—and the claim he staked between my thighs.
“Fffinnn.” His name sounds like an orgasm when I moan it through pouting lips.
I want him to… “Come…”
The shadow stands behind my bedroom door. Not a ghost, but a devil.
A horny, hardcore devil coming to stick his big cock in me.
“Sssaoirse.”
Reaching out my hand, I beckon him to come closer. The shadow materializes into a man. My man. My one and only.
The shuddering is almost too much as I slide my hand to find the top of my slit. It hides quivering under the thick black bush that covers my mound.
I caress it the way only he knows how. He took such care of that special part of me, if only to make my legs spread wider.
He doesn’t need to get me wetter. One look at his masterful erection and I’m sopping.
“Play with yourself, Saoirse.”
Gladly. I only have to see his cock to make me start pulsing.
He’s so young, left at twenty-one forever in my mind. “I… I remember you stripping in our bedroom over the bakery. Like a warrior arming himself for battle, with your big sword, your long, thick weapon.”
He grins. His smile has fangs with dripping blood.
“Are you going to eat me?” His cock is monstrous and I’m so slender.
No…, wait. I’m a sophisticated woman now. A woman with wants and needs and desires.
Pulling myself open, I wait for his mouth to fix over my clit. His tongue is rough, like his hands and his manners. Bumps rise on my skin as the arousal increases.
“P… Puh… Please…”
Penetration. I’m desperate for it. Once I pulled back and tried to crawl away from the stiff muscles and veins that sugarcoated his yummy cock. Now, I want him deep inside me, fucking me so hard I can’t find the air to scream.
My orgasm mounts. He pulls back and looks down at me. “My sweet storí. Do you know how the story’s going to end?”
“No, no, no.” I don’t want this to end.
“She said so, and so it must be done.”
He’s inside me, pounding my glistening pussy, burying himself deep in my slippery sheath.
The world stops spinning as I come. The silent scream that never lurks too far from my mouth is gasped out.
“Finn.”
He goes to stand outside my door again. A shadow of the boy I once loved.
I’m left gnawing my knuckle with my legs writhing under the sheets. Ravishing and ravaging, the devil haunts my dreams, but the climax is worth it.
And now that he’s gone, I can whisper the words out loud into the night.
“I hate you.”