Chapter 46
AOIFE
We land back in Dublin to grey skies, a biting wind and the kind of rain that doesn’t fall so much as slap you sideways, needling into your face no matter which direction you turn.
The runway gleams slick and unforgiving beneath the jet’s lights, and the moment the cabin door opens, the cold hits me like a reprimand.
We’ve barely stepped off Sean Beckett’s jet and Lake Como already feels like a dream.
This is the harsh reality I was expecting to come and snatch away my happiness, but this time, I refuse to let it.
Dominic was right.
I didn’t realise until he pointed it out.
Until him, I didn’t truly believe I deserved to be happy.
I believed in earning. In surviving. In scraping my way forward, one careful step at a time.
I believed if I worked hard enough, kept my head down, finished my degree, escaped the estate, built a respectable life with an honest wage and a classroom full of children who needed me—that would be enough.
Happiness wasn’t even on my radar.
It was a luxury I’d never be able to afford, no matter how hard I worked.
And then he pulled me into his home and into his world and showed me that safety doesn’t have to be borrowed. That love doesn’t have to be rationed. That choosing something bigger than survival doesn’t make me weak.
It makes me brave.
Dominic’s hand settles at the small of my back, guiding me down the steps. The wind snatches at my coat, tangles my hair, but he doesn’t loosen his hold. Outside the airport, Ciaran and Owen wait for us inside the BMW.
Ciaran hops out to greet us. ‘Welcome home, lovebirds.’ He slaps Dominic’s back in a manly hug, then turns to me.
His pupils glint as he drinks me in. ‘Welcome home, sis.’ He kisses both my cheeks, and Dominic growls.
‘You look positively glowing.’ He winks.
‘And I can’t believe you managed to tame the beast.’
It’s a battle not to laugh, despite the fact my husband and his brothers are plotting a murder.
Dom opens the back door for me, and I slide across the leather.
‘Welcome home,’ Cathal says with a smile. A rush of warmth surrounds me like a weighted blanket as it finally sinks in that I have a home. I have a family. It might not be the family I was born into, or the family I thought I’d marry into, but right now, I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Dominic’s hand settles on my thigh as we weave through traffic and out onto the motorway.
‘Where to first?’ Cathal asks, glancing at Dom in the rearview mirror.
‘We take Aoife home, then on to the warehouse,’ he says grimly.
I swallow hard.
‘There’s something you should know.’ Ciaran is suddenly serious.
‘What?’ Dom barks.
‘Frankie’s at your place.’ He sighs.
‘What the fuck is he doing there?’ Dominic snaps.
Silence fills the air. Every hair on my body prickles to attention as I recall the only thing I truly know about my husband’s uncle. ‘You don’t fuck with Frankie.’
‘He has a wedding present for you, apparently.’ Ciaran shrugs, but his voice is ominous.
‘How very generous of him,’ Dom drawls, dangerously low. I swear the temperature inside the BMW drops by five degrees.
No one speaks for the rest of the drive. When we reach the gates, Lewis and James are both wearing matching grim expressions.
Cathal lets down the window.
‘He’s inside,’ Lewis says warily.
‘Is Kai with him?’ Ciaran leans over Cathal to look at Lewis.
‘No. He’s alone.’ For some reason, that unsettles me more. What kind of a man struts straight into Dominic Kincaid’s house alone—family or not. Dominic is notoriously deadly.
Which can only mean one thing.
Frankie is even worse.
I swallow thickly as we cruise slowly up the long driveway. Dominic meets my eye. His lips are pressed into a tight line. ‘He’ll have questions. Just answer them as best you can.’
‘Where’s Sheila when you need her?’ I mutter, and despite the situation, Dominic snorts.
‘Sheila refuses to be in the same room as Frankie.’
‘Since when?’ We pull to a stop outside the house. There’s a Lexus parked in Dom’s usual spot, and I gather it’s not an accident he chose that space and not one of the three others beside it.
‘Since he butchered a barman for getting his drink order mixed up.’
Nausea rises in my chest.
‘It’s okay, sweetheart,’ Dom murmurs in my ear. ‘I’ve got you. I always will.’
Ciaran opens the back door for us, and Dom helps me out. My legs are like jelly as we cross the steps to the front door. It swings open a split second before Dom’s finger swipes over the keypad.
A man fills the doorway—and I mean fills it.
He looms over us, not just tall—but solid too.
Broad shoulders strain beneath his tight white shirt.
His sleeves are rolled neatly to reveal forearms corded with quiet sinewy strength.
His hair is silver at the temples. His skin is deeply tanned.
Sharp cheekbones cut clean lines through a devastatingly handsome face.
But it’s his eyes that are truly striking—steely, cold, sharp, and assessing.
Uncle Frankie.
His sheer presence steals the air from my lungs. If he weren’t so terrifying, he’d be truly devastating. He’s clutching a crystal tumbler half filled with amber-coloured liquid. He swirls it around the glass as he stares at me intently. ‘Welcome home, Mrs Kincaid.’
Dominic rolls his eyes. ‘I see you’ve helped yourself to a drink,’ he says dryly, ushering me forward. ‘At least let us get one before you start interrogating my wife.’ He pushes past his uncle and tugs my hand to follow him.
Ciaran and Cathal hold their breath like they’re waiting for Frankie to detonate like a bomb. His eyes narrow, squinting at Dom, then he laughs, long and deep and low. ‘You’ve got some bollocks, I’ll give you that, Dom.’ He shakes his head.
Cathal and Ciaran exchange a look as we all follow Frankie through to the kitchen. The house is as light and bright as always, but today, there’s a different type of darkness shadowing the place.
Inside, Dom rests against the kitchen counter, wrapping his arm protectively around my waist. He motions for Ciaran to pour the drinks. I don’t even attempt to decline it.
‘So, congratulations.’ Frankie prowls across the tiles towards us, his silver eyes sweep from my left hand to meet my eyes, before perusing every inch of my body.
‘Thanks.’ Dom takes a sip of his whiskey. ‘Heard you have a present for us.’
‘The present is your next breath,’ Frankie’s voice is low and cold. ‘Use it to explain yourself to me.’
I take a huge gulp of whiskey. It burns as it slides down my throat, and I cough.
‘I don’t have to explain myself to you, or anyone else,’ Dominic says with quiet, steely confidence.
‘Oh, come on.’ Frankie’s dead eyes dart between us.
‘Which one were you going to spin me with? Whirlwind romance? Love at first sight? Or are you going to try and tell me that you happened to be in love with Rory Kavanagh’s fiancée long before her father traded her like a whore to save his own skin? ’
‘Does it matter?’ Dom cocks his head. ‘The end result is the same. Aoife is my wife. She’s a Kincaid. Kavanagh broke the accord when he sent his men to my house.’
‘Like you fucking knew he would when you stole his bride.’ Frankie’s voice turns my blood to ice in my veins. The weight of his attention returns to me.
I swallow thickly. ‘He didn’t steal me.’ My chin juts out as I meet Frankie’s steely stare. ‘I ran to him,’ I say quietly. ‘And I’d do it again.’ I don’t break eye contact.