Chapter 24
DOMINIC
Mama K waits at the bottom of the stairs, one hand on her hip, her foot tapping impatiently on my pale stone flooring. In a pair of cream linen trousers and a baby pink chiffon blouse, with her blonde bobbed hair styled with a sophisticated blow out, she looks like a sweet, respectable pensioner.
Amazing how deceiving looks can be.
This sweet old pensioner once cut someone’s balls off for calling one of her kids a gang banging cretin. Then stuffed them down his throat for good measure.
The someone, Benny Bolton, was also the same bastard who stole my big sister, got her hooked on heroin and sold her to the highest bidder.
There’s a reason we do what we do. It isn’t out of the goodness of our hearts.
It’s because they’re all fucking broken and while there’s fuck all we can do about it, we can try to stop it happening to others.
‘What’s this about you having a woman?’ Her silver eyes narrow. ‘Who is she? Where is she? And most importantly—why do I have to hear it second hand from your brother?’
‘Good evening to you too, Mam.’ I bend and press a kiss to her weathered cheek. The familiar scent of her perfume fans around me, stirring a thousand childhood memories.
From the day our mother was taken from us, Mama K stepped in. She moved into the house and raised Ciaran, Owen, Kai, Cathal, Tristan and me as if we were her own. Money was scarce, but the kitchen was never empty. And no matter how hard things got, she always found a way to make us laugh.
She didn’t approve of us taking over The Syndicate—not at first.
Not because she didn’t understand why.
Because she understand all too well what would happen if we failed.
They’d already murdered my mother. Stole our sister. Destroyed our father.
Which was precisely why we couldn’t afford to lose.
We didn’t rise through violence alone.
We rose through patience.
For two years, we worked inside their structure.
Learned their routes. Their suppliers. Their accountants.
Their weak links. We bought loyalty quietly.
Redirected money. Took control of logistics and security inch by inch—until the men running the Syndicate were still sitting in the big chairs, but nothing moved without us.
Then, when everything was in place, we cut them off.
In one week, their shipments vanished. Their protection disappeared. Their bank access froze. And the day they walked into their club to discuss what the actual fuck was going on, poof–—it blew up into a million pieces. Faulty wiring apparently caused the explosion.
Imagine that.
My brothers and I assumed control of the city, overseen by our Uncle Frankie. And anyone who dared to challenge us found out the hard way: no one controls the Kincaids.
‘Pft.’ She swats me away with mock anger. ‘Don’t give me “good evening”. I need details,’ she demands aggressively, but there’s no missing the excitement in her tone.
She’s been at me for years to settle down, step aside and let my younger brothers take over. Like my brothers, she doesn’t believe it’s possible to run The Syndicate and have a wife and family.
I understand her concerns. The Syndicate fucked over my father, used him, and killed my mother.
But that was the old Syndicate.
And this is why it’s imperative that we continue to run things our way. If we don’t control the city’s underworld, someone worse will. And what kind of world will my kids grow up in?
An image of Aoife with a swollen stomach bursts into my brain like a wayward bullet.
The prospect of impregnating her makes me feral. Not yet. But one day.
‘Who told you?’ I steer Mama K towards the kitchen. I need whiskey for this conversation.
‘Ciaran. You know that boy can’t hold his own piss.’ She slaps my bicep. ‘Naturally, I asked Sheila, and the grin on her face told me everything I needed to know.’
I shove my glasses higher on the bridge of my nose to draw her attention away from the grin I’m biting back.
I love it when a plan comes together.
‘So, where is she? When do I get to meet her?’ Her sharp eyes scan the kitchen like she’s expecting Aoife to pop out from behind the counter any second.
‘She’s upstairs. In the shower.’ I can’t help the smug smile stretching my lips. I make a point of checking my watch. ‘And you’ll meet her when she puts some clothes on.’
‘Dominic Kincaid!’ Mama K pulls a suitably scandalised face, but even she can’t wipe the smile from it. ‘I can’t believe you have a woman in your house.’
Sheila wasn’t exaggerating. I’ve never brought a woman here.
Ever.
Fucking them in my friend’s sex club was far more convenient—until her.
‘I can’t believe it,’ she squeals. She practically hops around my kitchen with glee. ‘It must be serious.’
‘It is.’ I head for the drinks cabinet and pour two Beckett Golds.
Mama K is fond of the hard stuff. She can put it away better than any man I’ve ever met, including me.
She might need it in a minute. I think I mentioned I don’t do things by halves, which is why I’m going to tell her about the wedding.
‘We’re getting married.’ I fold my arms across my chest and wait for the onslaught, but instead, I’m greeted with silence. Her jaw hangs open on its hinges.
The silence doesn’t last long—unfortunately. ‘When exactly were you planning on telling me this?’
‘I’m telling you now, aren’t I?’
‘What the actual fuck, Dom?’
I shrug and reach for my whiskey. ‘I told every single one of you I’d know when I met the right one. And guess what? She’s the right one.’ The truth of that statement punches me square in the sternum.
Earlier, when she said ‘for a year’ I wanted to pin her down and tell her she’s not going anywhere, ever. But I need it to be her choice. She has to stay willingly, or I’m no better than Kavanagh.
Mama K stares at me with a look of pure astonishment. Like the rest of us, she’s not easily shocked. But this evening, she’s positively fucking speechless.
‘I always knew you were a mad bastard. The boys are right. You’re a romantic fucking psycho.’ She shakes her head in wonder as it sinks in.
My lips twitch. ‘I’ve been called worse.’
She snatches up the drink I poured for her and continues to stare at me like I’ve grown two heads. ‘When’s the wedding?’
‘End of the month.’
‘Fuck me.’ She stares at me like I’ve grown two heads. ‘It’s booked?’
‘Twenty-fifth of July.’
‘You know Frankie and Kai are in Mexico? They won’t be able to make it.’
‘It’s the only weekend The Shelbourne had available.’ I force a neutral expression, hoping she doesn’t sniff out my lie. Her ability to smell bullshit is sharper than a razor.
‘Isn’t it a bit quick, son?’ Concern taints her tone, and a flash of guilt rips through me.
‘It can’t come quick enough.’ Because I wasn’t lying when I told Aoife I was determined to do right by her.
I won’t have sex with her until after the wedding. Until she’s certain it’s what she really wants. Until she’s certain about me.
‘And do me a favour.’ My eyes snap to Mama K’s. ‘Don’t fucking terrify her, okay?’
‘Ha! That’s rich coming from you, you mad fucker.’ She tuts, but there’s no missing the affection in her tone. ‘I have to ask…’ She leans on the marble counter beside me and twists her head up to meet my gaze again.
‘What?’ I mutter warily.
‘How exactly did you know she was the one?’ There’s no judgement in her voice. More like concern laced with curiosity.
‘She ran straight into me and, bam, from the second she bounced off my chest, I haven’t been able to get her out of my head. I wanted her. Wanted to know every damn thing about her. Wanted to annihilate whoever she was running from.’
Mama K’s eyebrows shoot skyward. ‘And who exactly was she running from?’
Shit.
I said too much.
Though, there’s no point try to hide it.
Not from her.
She’ll find out soon enough.
Better it comes from me.
‘Rory Kavanagh. Her father arranged their marriage in payment of a debt he owed.’ My molars clank together even thinking about it.
‘Rory Kavanagh?’ Her fingers thrum over her weathered lips. ‘Do you have a death wish, son?’
‘Please.’ I roll my eyes. ‘Do you think that watery fucker is capable of taking me out?’
‘No.’ She folds her arms across her chest. ‘But your Uncle Frankie will if you break the accord.’
‘I’m not breaking any accord. If Kavanagh comes for me, though, that’s a different story.’ I grind my teeth.
‘I see,’ Mama K’s eyes narrow. ‘That’s why you’re marrying her, isn’t it?’ She steps closer, poking her index finger against my torso. ‘You’re trying to start a fucking war.’
I was—not that I’ll admit that out loud—but after the past few weeks with Aoife, the truth is, I’m desperate to lock her down as my wife for a million other reasons which I haven’t even fully processed yet.
‘It has fuck all to do with him, and everything to do with her. Trust me. You’ll understand when you meet her. She’s different. She’s… innocent.’
She raises a single eyebrow. ‘So innocent that she’s currently naked upstairs?’
‘It’s not like that,’ I growl.
Aoife chooses this exact moment to enter the kitchen.
Her eyes dart dubiously between us as she tucks her blonde hair behind her ear timidly.
She’s changed into that blush pink sundress again and the flat white pumps.
Her hair is wet as it hangs over her shoulders.
Devoid of make-up, she looks utterly fucking adorable.
‘Hi.’ She saunters closer, gravitating towards me, silently seeking security. The urge to wrap my arms around her and keep her there forever burns beneath my skin.
‘Sweetheart.’ I drop my arm over her shoulder, tugging her against my side. Her shoulders relax a fraction. Thank fuck she submitted to me today. It makes our marriage so much more believable now that she’s comfortable in my arms. ‘This is Mama K. Mam, this is Aoife.’
Mama K pauses for a long minute, sharp, narrow eyes assessing my fiancée from head to toe. She steps forward and Aoife shrinks closer against my chest.
‘Well, let me see the ring then.’ She beckons for Aoife’s hand.
Fuck.
That was a school boy error.
‘It’s getting resized,’ Aoife lies smoothly, and I flash her a grateful look.
‘Oh,’ Mama K’s dubious, and with good reason. But I can honestly swear, hand on heart, I want to marry Aoife O’Shea because I’m obsessed with her. Provoking Kavanagh is now simply a bonus.
‘Shall we sit?’ Her gaze shifts to the stools at the island. ‘I want to know everything there is to know about my new daughter-in-law. What do you do? Where are you from?’
‘I, er, I’m from the Greenhills estate.’ Aoife winces. ‘I just graduated as a teacher. I’m starting my new job at the end of August.’ She looks to me, and I flash her an encouraging smile.
‘How very respectable.’ Mama K says dryly.
Aoife gulps. I pass her my whiskey, and she takes it with a small, grateful smile. Our eyes lock, and that familiar heat pulses between us. If my mother weren’t standing two feet away, I’d already have my mouth on hers and my hands all over her body.
Her revelation earlier was shocking—in the best possible way.
To be her first is one thing.
But I have a sneaking suspicion I want to be her last too.
Mama K watches us with an unwavering intensity. ‘Oh my god,’ Her hand covers her mouth, but unfortunately even that doesn’t stop her talking. ‘Dominic Kincaid, I never thought I’d see the day. You’re in love.’