Chapter 53
AOIFE
Aweek later, I’m back where this strange new life of mine truly began—sitting on the plush cushioned couch on the decking behind Dominic’s house—our house—I should say.
The back doors have been replaced. The glass cleared from the floor, but every time I close my eyes I still see it—the mess, the violence.
Every night since, I’ve bolted awake in a cold sweat.
The late evening sun casts long golden streaks across the pool, turning the water into a sheet of liquid glass. The air is warm and still, the quiet broken only by the soft clink of ice against crystal as Dominic pours more rose wine into my glass.
For a moment, if I close my eyes, it feels exactly like the start of summer.
Like I didn’t watch several Colombians bleed out on the floor in front of me.
Like I didn’t watch Ciaran get carted off in handcuffs.
Like we didn’t start a bigger war than the one we were already fighting against Rory Kavanagh—killing the Colombians won’t go unpunished.
Santiago Cruz’s cousins are circling. Demanding their due—in blood.
Because this is Dominic’s world.
The world I thought I’d worked so hard to escape.
But I’m not going anywhere. Not because I can’t. Not because I’ve seen too much. But because I don’t want to.
I’ve seen horror. Experienced it first-hand.
But I’ve also seen acceptance. Beauty. Felt love—real love.
Not just from the man beside me, but from the entire Syndicate—my new family.
While my own father sold me out to save his skin, my new brothers-in-law didn’t hesitate to come for me.
Ciaran took the rap so I wouldn’t lose my husband.
I’ve never known loyalty like it. While The Syndicate is a criminal organisation, there’s no questioning their morality.
The city is a better place with them overseeing the darker aspects of this life.
And I am a better woman with them in my life.
I’ve learnt that not everything has to sit in the box society says it belongs in.
That family is forged by loyalty and love, not blood.
That there’s no such thing as black and white. In fact, grey is my new favourite colour. I still hate the uncertainty and the violence, but while the human race exists, both of those things will always exist. Being with Dominic has taught me that violence doesn’t necessarily mean cruelty.
Sometimes it’s the only way to stop cruelty.
I curl my bare feet beneath me on the cushioned lounger and watch the light dance across the water. My body is still healing—bruises fading, wrists tender where the plastic ties bit into my skin—but I’m alive.
And so is Dominic.
That’s all that really matters.
His hand settles on my thigh, warm and solid, grounding me in a way nothing else can.
‘What are you thinking?’ he murmurs, trailing his fingers over my skin.
My eyes drift to the far edge of the garden where the security lights blink softly against the trees. Lewis, James, and several others are somewhere out there, watching the perimeter like always. Matt and Dylan survived the Colombian’s attack.
Logan didn’t make it.
A fact that I’m still trying to process.
I didn’t know him as well as James and Lewis, but I do know that he died trying to protect me.
That therapy I thought I’d need?
Yep, I’ve started.
‘I’m thinking about Ciaran,’ I say eventually.
Dominic’s fingers tighten on my leg, and he forces a small smile, but it doesn’t meet his dark eyes. ‘Should I be jealous?’
‘How can you joke when he’s sitting in a cell because of us?’
He exhales slowly, tilting his head towards mine. ‘Ciaran is sitting in a cell because he shot Santiago Cruz in front of half the police force in Belfast.’
‘To save us,’ I remind him.
‘To save the entire family,’ Dominic corrects me quietly.
The breeze lifts a strand of my hair, and Dominic reaches for it, tenderly tucking it behind my ear.
Our eyes lock. That familiar chemistry pulses between us, but it’s so much more than lust. It’s a connection that runs deeper than simply marriage.
It’s a rare, profound trust that’s built on respect and survival, and a love deeper than I ever dreamed of.
‘It could have been so much worse,’ Dominic continues.
‘How?’
‘The gun Ciaran used was only tied to Cruz’s killing. Nothing else.’
I swallow.
‘That warehouse could have buried us all. The entire operation. Thank fuck the fire Kai started took care of most of the evidence. By the time the fire brigade got the flames under control, the place was little more than a twisted shell of steel and melted plastic. Hardly anything left to identify.’
‘And the police?’ I ask.
Dominic takes another slow sip of his whiskey. ‘The chief superintendent in Dublin is a reasonable man.’
‘Meaning?’
His lips twitch. ‘Meaning he reminded the Belfast lads not to dig too deeply.’
I shake my head softly. The corruption should horrify me. Once upon a time it would have. Now it just feels like another piece of the strange new reality I’ve stepped into.
‘So, Ciaran is the scapegoat,’ I say quietly.
Dominic studies the pool for a long moment before answering. ‘For now.’
Something in his voice makes me turn to look at him. ‘What does that mean?’
His gaze meets mine, dark and steady. Fire dances in his espresso coloured irises. ‘It means I have a plan.’
A shiver runs through me. Not fear. I’m never afraid when I’m with him anymore. Dominic doesn’t say things like that unless he fully intends to follow through.
‘Ciaran was transferred from Belfast this afternoon.’
‘To where?’
‘Ravenhill.’ The smile lifting his lips this time is a real one. ‘He’s spending some quality time with our father while we work out how to get him out of there.’
‘I take it that was your doing?’ I eye him over the rim of my wine glass.
‘Frankie made a few calls.’ Dominic shrugs. ‘It’s been handy having the old fucker back this side of the Atlantic.’
Frankie seems capable of bending the entire world to his will if he decides to. ‘He’s not that old.’ I shrug, tilting my face up to the evening sun. ‘In fact, he’s kind of handsome.’
‘Do you have the hots for my uncle?’ His fingers dart beneath my dress, inching higher inside my inner thigh.
‘No,’ I gasp, glancing down at where his fingers shamelessly skirt between my legs. ‘I only have eyes for one Kincaid.’
‘Damn fucking right you do.’ His fingers slip inside the scrap of silk at the junction of my legs.
‘Frankie told us all to carry on as normal.’ His pupils darken.
‘And that means fucking my wife every chance I get.’ His fingers sink into my centre and pump.
‘Come, sit on my knee, sweetheart.’ He puts his whiskey down on the coffee table beside us, then prises my wine from my hand and places it down next to it.
I hop onto his lap, straddling my legs either side of him as he unbuttons his suit pants and frees himself. He might be a dom, but since Lake Como, he has no problem with me climbing onto his lap and riding his cock—especially if it’s his idea.
‘What if someone sees?’ His men are circling the grounds; they always are.
‘Let them.’ Our eyes lock, his smouldering into mine as he runs his palms over my breasts. I dip my face lower to meet his lips, and his tongue sinks inside my mouth as I rock up onto my knees and sink down on his thick, hard length.
I break our kiss and pull my dress up around my waist to watch as our bodies join in the most cathartic way.
Skin slaps against skin. He reaches for my breasts again. ‘Fucking stunning,’ he murmurs, looking down.
‘You still need to take me back to the club,’ I pant.
‘I will, I promise.’ His hands land on my hips, guiding me into a deeper, faster rhythm. Oh yes, my husband still thrives on control, but truthfully, when we’re joined like this, neither of us is in control. We’re fucking animals.
‘Take your dress off,’ he demands. ‘I need to taste those perfect tits in my mouth.’
‘Yes, sir,’ I tug the cotton over my head and toss it to the floor.
‘Good girl,’ he purrs, stretching round to unhook my bra. It falls to the ground with a soft thud. My nipples tighten as the evening air hits them, but Dominic’s mouth is on me in seconds. I moan, bucking against him.
‘I love you, so fucking much,’ I pant as pure primal pleasure builds between my legs.
His lips pop off my breasts and he tilts my chin up until his big black orbs home into mine. ‘I love you, sweetheart.’
My fingers sink into his shoulders as my release builds deep inside my core, an inevitable explosion—violent and beautiful all at once, a perfect reflection of the love we’ve created from chaos.
‘Fuck.’ His grip tightens on my hips as his orgasm tears through him, and he spills himself into me. He rests his forehead against my chest, and I run my fingers through his hair while we catch our breath.
We hold each other like that for a long time, both immersed in the moment.
I press a kiss to his head and twist until I’m sitting on his lap. ‘We made a mess.’ I look down and he laughs.
‘It’s not the first time, and it won’t be the last.’ His eyes twinkle.
I pick my dress up from the floor and tug it over my head.
‘Spoilsport,’ he teases. ‘I was enjoying the view.’
‘All good things must come to an end,’ I tell him, hopping off his lap.
‘No, they don’t, sweetheart,’ his eyes flare as he pulls me back down. ‘You and I will never end. Sit, finish your drink; we’ll get cleaned up in a minute. Let’s watch the sunset.’
‘Dominic Kincaid, I do believe you’re a secret romantic.’ I snuggle in closer, resting my head lightly against his chest.
‘I never made a secret of it.’ He smirks. ‘My family call me the Romantic Psycho.’ His low chuckle vibrates in his chest.
Low laughter slips from my lips. ‘Course they do.’
He wraps his arms around me as we watch the sun dip below the trees.
I run a finger over the tattoo on my thigh as he presses a kiss into my hair.
I tilt my head up and meet his gaze. His eyes dip to my thigh, then back up to meet mine again.
A slow smile spreads across his face. ‘You,’ he says quietly, ‘are the bravest woman I know. But I promise you this, nothing and no one will ever take you from me. You are mine.’
What once sounded like a threat now feels like the most decadent vow. He obliterated everything I thought I craved: security, stability, a fresh start.
Now the only thing I crave is him
For the first time in my life, I’m not worrying about the future. Not thinking about the past. Or the life I thought I wanted. Because somewhere between running bare foot into his bar, and being dragged barefoot across a warehouse floor, something inside me shifted.
I don’t just live in Dominic Kincaid’s world.
I choose it.
And maybe that makes me just as dangerous as the man sitting beside me.
I raise my glass and clink it gently against his. ‘I’m yours.’