Chapter 24
Sean
Chapter Twenty-Four
My brothers are taking Justin to the station until I can deal with him. Right now, my priority is Lina. I want to get her home where I’m convinced she’s safe because I’m not going anywhere for the rest of the day or tonight. We have more to talk about, and my palm itches to spank her.
We ride to our place—mine is definitely now ours since she’s said repeatedly she’s staying—with her next to me. With my cock in her mouth. She’s not sucking me off. Oh, no. This is the beginning of her punishment. She’s warming it while I play with her nipple. I roll it between my finger and thumb, sometimes tugging and sometimes pinching. I’m texting with the guys as we start planning our retaliation. We all know this is the Mancinellis’ retribution for what we did to Lorenzo and Marco. Justin said Marco’s the one who reached out to him.
We targeted them to get the feds' attention off our backs over the O’Briens. Their revenge is justified, but machismo demands we not let them have the last word. That’s what most of syndicate rivalries are about. It’s posturing. The money, the infamy, the everything else are just the means. The one-upping is why these disputes never end.
Finn will dig into the latest financials he can find, but he doesn’t expect to find much. Lorenzo is their accountant, and his computer science degree is equivalent to Finn’s. After I kill Justin, it’ll be my hacking and intel gathering skills that are most likely to move things forward with whatever plan Dillan devises.
I look out the window as we pull up to our place. I press Lina’s shoulder, and she lets go of my dick. I fix my pants, and she covers her tits. I’m hard as a fucking plank, but I can wait to get off. Lina will never be my sub, even though that’s something I would have done with one. But we have a dynamic with elements of that.
As much as it might frustrate her when I edge her or how it gratifies me to have her warm my cock, it reassures her we’re still in a good place. It allows her to focus on something other than what’s going on. It allows her to give me control and reminds her I have it. That I am and will take care of her.
We ride up to our floor in silence, and we head straight to our bedroom. My fingers are laced with hers, so once we pass through the doorway, I tug her hand. She turns to face me, and I wrap my arm around her.
“Are you all right to take your punishment now?”
“It’s not that I want to get it over with, but I want us to be back to a good place.”
I don’t want to let go of her hand, so I cup her cheek with my other palm. I stroke my thumb over her cheek.
“Cailín, I told you from the start I will punish you if you risk yourself. I will carry out that punishment. Not because I think you’re a child who needs correction. Not because I think you’ll forget and need to learn from a spanking. Not even for you to gain my forgiveness. I’m doing it because I promised to take care of you, and you agreed to let me. I promised to take the lead during sex, but also with your safety, and you agreed to let me. You broke that promise, but that’s not what bothers me. I still trust you. I’m punishing you because it returns us to our homeostasis. I lead, and you follow when it comes to your protection. You got lucky, Lina.”
“I know, Daddy. I don’t regret what happened to Lucy or leading Justin into the alley. I’m sorry that to do those things, I put my life at risk, and that scared you. I don’t want to make you feel that way. You crave control to feel calm because control keeps you and the people you care about alive. I get that you don’t want to control all my behavior, but not having control over the risks I take, upsets you. I knew those things would bother you, and I did them anyway. I want the punishment to let you know I recognize I broke my promise. I also want the punishment because I made a promise I can’t keep. I’ll keep taking punishments for breaking that rule, but I’ll keep breaking that rule if it’s to protect you or our family.”
“You’ve told me that, and I can live with that because if it were reversed, I would do the same thing. I can’t fault your dedication or loyalty. I just wish you’d let me walk beside you rather than catching up. I will disagree with you. I will try to offer alternatives that keep you safer. But if there’s no other way, then I would rather I be there to protect you as much as you’re protecting me. We do this together, mo stór.”
“It’s us against the world, nounours. I know that, and I have to act accordingly.”
“That’s right. I’m sorry you didn’t feel like you could trust my family to do what needed doing.”
“Wait, Sean. I told you in the car on the way to meet Justin that I trust your family as much as I do you. That wasn’t the issue. The need to do this myself—to be the one who avenged you—was too strong to ignore. Maybe it was impatience. Maybe it was my belief I could do it better. Maybe it was just rage I didn’t master. But this wasn’t about anyone’s shortcomings. At least no one’s but mine.”
“It wasn’t shortcomings. We figure these things out together from here on out.”
“Yes, Daddy.”
“We are okay already, Lina. I’ve forgiven you already. Honestly, in a way, this was never about needing to forgive. If we don’t go through with this, we would still be okay. I won’t hold this against you or anything like that. But I think it’s important that we do.”
“I agree. I trust you.”
I bring our lips together, and it’s a tender kiss that makes my hard heart soften. I give her a peck when we pull apart. I let go of her and walk to the drawer with the sex toys and devices. I withdraw the Shibari rope and unwind it.
“Strip.”
I lean back against the dresser, my right ankle crossed over my left. My right elbow props up part of my weight on the dresser. The rope hangs from my left hand. She’s quick to do it, and I marvel at her beauty. I wonder how I got so lucky. Everything about her—inside and out—draws me to her in a way no one else ever has. I skim my gaze over her, and I want to taste every inch of her.
She stands, naked, with her hands clasped before her. I prowl to her, and I sense a moment of trepidation before she recalls I will never push her beyond her limits. I’ll take her to the edge, but I won’t abuse her faith in me.
I walk around her, trailing the rope between her tits, around her waist, and up between her shoulder blades. She doesn’t expect me to spank her arse with it. I move her arms through some gentle stretches before I raise them over her head, bending them, so her hands clasp behind her head. I skim the back of my fingers along her right ribs before grabbing her arse and squeezing as hard as I dare.
“You are mine, cailín. You have been since the moment we saw each other. You know that. I know that. Your cunt belongs to me to pleasure and deny. Your arse belongs to me to worship and punish. Your heart belongs to me to love and cherish. I will do that for the rest of my life. I won’t allow you to deny me that. I won’t allow you to cut that short. I will always do everything I can to come home to you because you have my heart.”
I let go of her arse before I drape the rope over her wrists and make sure the lengths are even. I wrap the ends twice, careful that the fibers don’t dig into her skin. I have far too much experience doing this and not for BDSM. I usually do this to inflict the initial pain, but that’s not what I want here. I check that I can still slip a finger between her skin and the rope.
“If anything tingles or goes numb, you tell me immediately. If I get this wrong and do you any permanent harm?—”
“I know, Daddy. You might forgive me, but you wouldn’t forgive yourself. That’s the last thing I want. You’d torture yourself, and that thought is agony to me. You say you have faith in me, and I want that to last.”
“Thank you, mo stór.”
With the rope that’s remaining, I create a chest harness. Maybe one day I will take the time to create a dragonfly or some form of a hishi karada, or even a large diamond karada. They’re all intricate ties along her torso that accentuate her tits and can press against the outside of her pussy. But for now, I create a bikini harness. I wrap the rope around her chest several times, above and below her breasts. Then I pass the rope around the top and bottom, tugging just enough to capture the most tantalizing set of tits I’ve ever seen. A rope end passes over each shoulder before looping through the back a few times, then I knot them.
“How’re you doing, cailín?” It took nearly ten minutes to create both positions because I kept checking the placement and tightness.
“I’m all right, Daddy.”
Her breathy voice is one of anticipation. She longs to know what’s next, but I have no intention of telling her. She’ll find out as we go. I turn her to face me, checking the harness from the front. The way the rope binds her makes her tits appear to swell. I can’t resist the temptation. I lean forward and lick her left nipple before nipping at it with my lips. I catch it between my teeth and give a light tug. I move to her right side and practically suck the entire thing to the back of my throat.
I’ve never had a preference for size, nor have I been steadfastly a tits or arse guy. I crave all of Lina. She’s so slender that her arse fits perfectly in my hands. I cover it and have all of it at once. It feeds the possessiveness I feel. Her B-cup breasts are also the perfect size for my hands to do the same thing. I can nearly swallow them whole. There’s no part of them that isn’t mine. I will never be so possessive as to stop her doing the things she wants. She’s not mine to lock away from the world. I have no wish to dominate her spirit or change even a sliver. But physically, I revel in it.
I step back and return to the dresser. This time I leave the drawer open after I withdraw a Wartenberg pinwheel. I could gather all the things I want, but I don’t want her to guess what I’ll do. The uncertainty—the surrender to me—that’s our give and take right now. I run the tiny, notched wheel around her now sensitive nipples.
I start with the right, encircling it before running over it, top to bottom, then left to right. I move to her left and draw the prongs from the bottom rope to her nipple, over the dart, and up to the top rope. I wheel it around the mound, keeping it close to the ropes. Then I make it creep down her belly until I get to her clit.
I’m super careful not to pinch any skin as I draw it down the crease between her pussy and right hip, across her pussy lips, and up the opposite crease. I turn my hand to pull it sideways over her clit, then push it back over the sensitive bundle of nerves.
Her breathing is faster but deep. Her abs contract as need makes her shift her weight from one foot to the other. I reach around her with my free hand and land a smack that nearly pushes her forward. I return to the dresser, retrieving a crop.
“Widen your feet.”
She obeys immediately. She glances down to her cunt, so it makes her shriek when I land the crop on her left tit. I set a pattern she can’t predict as I smack her tits, arse, and cunt. I watch the clock on my bedside table, doing this for a minute. I toss the crop onto the bed and untie the ropes. I’m gentle as I move her arms, ensuring they don’t grow stiff. I keep the pressure light as I massage her breasts as the full circulation pours back into them.
“How do you feel?”
“Like this can’t be done, Daddy.”
“Not nearly, cailín.”
She breathes easier. I don’t know if she wants this sexually, or she doesn’t believe the punishment is enough. I kiss her temple because I’m proud of how she’s taking this, and I need the moment of affection. She turns her head, and we exchange a light kiss. I wouldn’t do this with a sub. It is—it was—a different mindset with a sub. I love Lina. I’m certain of it. Would most people question my feelings because they’ve developed so quickly? We’ve known each other nearly three months.
Dillan’s sister, Colleen, loved romance novels. She schooled all of us when we teased her about them. If my relationship with Lina were a story, Colleen might have called it instalove. Instalust for sure. But time takes on a different meaning in this world when permanence can last only hours. Where I’m old at thirty-one. I know plenty of men who haven’t made it to this age. Some of my bullet and knife wounds threatened to take me to hell much younger. A minute is an hour, an hour is a day, a day is a lifetime.
“Climb on the bed and lie on your side, arms in front of you.”
I’ve given what comes next plenty of daydreaming. I tested it to make sure the logistics work with a few hard tugs. I lift her top leg and bend it, so her left instep rests on the inside of her right knee. I wrap the rope around her legs several times, binding the length of her thigh to her calf. I ease her top knee back to widen the gap between her legs. I step back and toss the remaining rope over my curtain rod, tying the ends to the rope that stretches in the air.
“Try to close your legs.”
Her left leg moves just enough that I’m not worried about her hip, but she can’t do more than a couple inches. I slipped vibrating Ben Wa balls in my pocket the last time I went to the dresser. They have a remote I keep hidden.
“How does it feel?”
“Good, Daddy.”
“We’ll see.” I waggle my eyebrows before intensifying my gaze.
I watch her suck in a breath that caves her stomach and pushes out her chest. I press the balls into her, rubbing her clit as my fingers withdraw from her pussy. I use the remote to turn them on, and she shrieks again. I put them straight on high. This time her breaths are fast and shallow. I watch her, growing concerned. She sees me, and I can tell she’s forcing herself to calm. She doesn’t want to upset me.
This is my last trip to the dresser. I grab a foam wand and a blindfold. I slip the blindfold over her eyes. I watch closely for how her body reacts to losing that sense. Now she truly doesn’t know what will come next. I shift to stand behind her, but at a distance that allows me to hold the vibrator against her clit while spanking her with the crop.
What we’ve done has been the prelude to her punishment. I observe her with an intensity I haven’t even used with a captive I’m torturing to the brink of death. I know I’m creating sensory overload for her. It’s a state of confusion where she doesn’t know which sensation to focus on. The vibration on her clit or the vibration on her g spot while her arse burns.
I purposely didn’t restrain her hands for this. That would be more lack of control than I want to create. She’s clutching the bedding to keep from reaching down to stop me. She moans over and over, yelping when the crop hits a particularly sensitive spot that I’ve already spanked. If she whimpers—even hints at a whimper—it will all end. I watch her breathe through it all.
“Daddy, I need to come.”
“I know. But don’t.”
“I won’t be able to stop it.”
“Yes, you will. Do not come until I say you can.”
“But, Da?—”
“Cailín.”
“Yes, Daddy. I’ll do my best.”
The authority I infused into that one word and her obedience says everything about this. Her tone sounds more relaxed than it has since we started. She’s fully given me control, and it eases her mind. I’ve taken what she’s given me, and I’m at peace.
I turn off the wand and put it on the bed. I shift to spank her pussy, but I keep it light as I unbutton and unzip my pants. I toe off my shoes. I put down the crop to finish stripping. I’m careful as I retrieve the Ben Wa balls. Then I ease into her and just hold myself still. I kiss the inside of her knee since it’s almost level with my mouth. My hand caresses her deep pink arse.
“Daddy?”
“Yes, little one.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. What do you need?”
She smiles at the question. She knows the punishment is over.
“Well, start by fucking me then?—”
She presses her lips together before her teeth appear and sink into the right corner of her bottom lip.
“Yes. I’ll give you what you need.”
I’m certain of what she was going to say. I wrap my leg around her bound leg, leaning forward to cup her breast that’s against the mattress. I draw my hips back before slamming into her. I pound my cock into her cunt over and over; her moans filling the room, only slightly muted by my periodic growls.
“Come, Lina.”
“Thank God.”
“Or just me.”
She giggles before she tenses.
“Sean!”
“Good God, you’re tight.”
I have to pull back before I come and can’t give her the other half she needs. I’m quick to get her leg untied while I rock my hips.
“Take your blindfold off.”
I shift her onto her back before I pick her up. She wraps herself around me like a koala as I climb onto the bed. I remain sitting as I hold her hips. I guide her to ride me, so she shifts to bend her legs to kneel. Our bodies press together as we kiss. It’s erotic and so intimate. We’re making love. I can tell the difference. The difference between this and fucking. It’s obvious, but we’ve done both before. I can also tell the difference between all my sexual encounters before Lina and what I share with her. I give her all my heart and probably most of my soul.
“Cailín, I love you.”
“I love you, too, nounours.”
“Will you always be mine?”
“Yes.”
I pray the next time I ask a question like that, I get the same answer.
It’s been a month since my kidnapping and Lina’s near double homicide. There really is no other way to describe it. She would have killed Justin if I hadn’t found her first. She’s had withdrawn moments, and I know she thinks about what happened with Lucy. We’ve talked about it, and she feels the same way as she did when she killed the men who attacked during her girls' weekend. She doesn’t regret or feel guilty about killing. She questions why she doesn’t. She worries about the ease with which she’s done it in two separate and different situations. I’ve told her what I can about my early days and how I feel when it happens now. It makes me examine myself and the monster I’ve become.
I said that once, and she lost her ever-loving mind. We were in the living room, and she jumped off the sofa, sprinted to the bedroom, and came out with a paddle with holes in it. Those hurt even more than a solid one. If she’d been strong enough to pull me onto my stomach like she tried—and she put all her weight into it—she would have spanked me long and hard. She threatened that if I ever said that about myself again, she’d wait until I was asleep, then take the paddle to my arse.
Letting her have that moment of control gave her a chance to show her protectiveness—even if she’s protecting me from myself—and it gave me a chance to submit and feel even more loved than I usually do. We understand each other.
But beyond our home, it’s been an ongoing source of frustration. Only two things have been satisfying as we deal with our enemies. I used my CI in Baltimore to get photos of Ewan going in and out of Ellie’s house. He got photos of them fucking all over the place in there. I sent them to her husband. I feel not a miniscule speck of remorse for her husband kicking her out.
She made her bed and laid in it—with Ewan all the fucking time—so she got what she deserved. Ellie’s husband was there the next time Ewan arrived because he planned to help Ellie move to Boston. The guy beat the shite out of Ewan, giving him a broken jaw and two cracked ribs.
That was nothing compared to what I did to Colt. I told Lina I needed to go to Boston, and she deduced what I was going to do. She didn’t explicitly ask, and I didn’t give her any clues. She knows how I feel about the way Colt treated her. Now he knows too to the tune of four broken ribs, a punctured lung, a busted kneecap, an elbow that will never let him hold a rifle again, and needing his own splenectomy.
I jumped him in the dark and worked him over on my own. There is no proof it was specifically me, but I branded a four-leaf clover right over his arsehole. He can keep taking it up the arse for the Irish—and by that, I mean my family. We are the Irish.
“Look, Donatelli’s would be a blow Salvatore would never recover from.” I’m at Dillan’s with the others. “That would send a message the universe would hear, but Mikey doesn’t deserve it.”
Mikey Donatelli has been Salvatore’s best friend since they were kids. He’s not Cosa Nostra, but he grew up surrounded by it. He owns a restaurant that’s like Salvatore’s second home. Mikey expanded it and even made a special family dining room just for the Mancinellis.
Everyone knows he’s sacrosanct but not just because he’s Salvatore’s friend. He’s an all-around great guy. He runs a food pantry on the weekends, even when he’s the busiest. He’ll hire homeless people to do odd jobs around the restaurant, and he gives high-school kids their first job, offering benefits to those who need them.
Taking out that restaurant would be a personal blow Salvatore wouldn’t recover from. Even though the bratva destroyed the first home my family had when they immigrated to America, and it’d become a central gathering place for our extended family, we have limits to what we’ll take from people.
Shocking.
I know.
“Marco didn’t order a hit because he knows better than to kill you. But he definitely wanted you fucked-up, and he wanted us to suffer not knowing where you were.” Shane’s been chomping at the bit to go on the rampage.
My twin held it together while they searched for me, but it all crumbled the next day when we were alone. He came to my place, and we went in my office. Lina stayed at the other end of the condo. We were in there for two hours of extremely unmanly sobbing and hugging. He’d known something was wrong even before he got the call. Lina was sleeping, but he said he had a wave of nausea and broke into a cold sweat. We already know the pattern. It happens to us when one of us gets injured or really sick. When I got tonsillitis, he was the one who couldn’t stop puking. He inflamed his throat so much that he wound up getting a tonsillectomy too.
We’re so closely bonded that it’s a level of empathy I can’t put into words. Because our bodies are made exactly the same, and our minds work so similarly, feeling each other’s pain isn’t difficult to fathom. But the telepathy we have and that other identical twins claim to have has no scientific explanation. How we know something is wrong when we’re not together defies explanation, and neither of us questions it.
“He and Liz just bought that house on Grand Cayman. They haven’t even spent a night there. He thinks no one knows he’s stashing shite there. I’m sure Liz doesn’t, but we do.” Finn turns his laptop around, so we can see photos of an exquisite villa on a beach that looks more like a painting from someone’s imagination than could be real.
Ten minutes after Shane left that day, Finn showed up. Our time locked away was only ninety minutes. But it was more hugging and crying. While my bond with Shane is inexplicable on so many levels, it has never felt more significant or stronger than how I feel about Finn. Shane says the same thing. My oldest brother can be a monumental pain in my arse. Even in his thirties, he still likes to flex and make me do things for him. I give in by choice because I love my brother, and it’s usually something trivial, like giving him my seat somewhere.
But he’s protective of Shane and me in a way I can’t explain, either. It’s in his marrow that, until Ally came along, no one came before us. I’ve seen him knock out a three-hundred-and-twenty-pound guy who could have been a Sumo wrestler with one punch because he took a swing at—and missed—Shane.
“What’s he got there right now?” Seamus leans forward to see the house better.
“Amyl nitrate.” Shane grins.
The shite’s a depressant with medical uses for things like angina. But it’s become a party drug. People huff it, and some guys use it like a cheap replacement for a little blue pill if they can’t get it up or keep it up. It’s also highly flammable.
“He’s gonna have a fun time explaining to Liz why her wedding present exploded.” I’m tempted to rub my hands together like some cartoon super villain.
“What’s the product valued at?” Cormac is nearly as tight fisted with money as Finn, so every penny of everything counts.
“The street price is still cheap at ten dollars a vial, but you know the Mancinellis. They’ll make their buyer think those Poppers have some magical ingredient that sets them apart. To them, it’ll easily go for three times that price. From the pictures we have of the shipment, my guess is about two-hundred grand.” Finn shrugs.
In the world we work in, that’s chump change. But it’ll be inconvenient because the profit is likely already designated to help pay for something way more expensive, thus way more important. I’ve been hacking their emails and inventory systems to find any hint, but nothing’s hit yet.
“When?” Dillan’s remained quiet so far.
I laugh. I can’t help it. “His birthday is in two days. Buon compleanno.” Happy birthday.
“Too bad he won’t be there to blow it out. Tanti auguri!” Many wishes. Shane’s chuckle echoes mine.
“Make it happen.” Dillan joins in the laughter, but he appears unsatisfied.
“Do you want us to do more?” My brow furrows.
“Not to the Mancinellis. I’m not satisfied with how things wound up with the O’Malleys. It doesn’t feel done enough.”
We kept Justin at the station for two weeks. The first four days had him strung up, naked, starving, and dehydrated. We barely kept him alive. When he slid toward unconscious, we’d cut him. Nothing deep enough to make him bleed out or knock him out, but enough for the pain to register and revive him.
I worked him over once a day, and my relatives took turns. Cormac, Seamus, and Shane took turns for the night shifts. The second four days had us taking turns with baseball bats and steel pipes. We learned little because Lina was right. The physical pain did next to nothing to get him to talk. But the last six days were slow emotional torture.
We got into his phone and discovered he’d saved a mailbox full of messages from Lina over the years. I pulled up her social media and scrolled photos of her, lingering on ones where he was in the background, or we knew he was there when it was taken. For each photo I showed him, I told him about what we ate for breakfast together that morning or dinner the night before. I told him what movie we watched or what time we went to bed and what time hours later we fell asleep. I never reveal any intimate details. That is for no one but Lina and me. I will never violate our relationship by sharing that stuff.
I reminded him every chance I got that she picked me. That he had no one. That Ewan hadn’t tried to negotiate for him. He knew he wasn’t going anywhere. That wasn’t the point. He knew no one cared enough to try. By day twelve, he was so broken, he shared everything he knew. That’s how I arranged for the photos with Ellie and to attack Colt.
It’s also how I found out who the gunmen were. The one who shot me, and the one who shot Ewan. Turns out it was Mikhail in a building across the street from the hotel. We hired the guy who almost took out Ewan. He’s now a CI.
I hung a photo of Lina and me sharing a lounger beside my parents’ pool on the wall in front of where Justin hung most of the time he was at the station. For the last three days of his miserable life, he had his arms stretched over his head and connected to a meat hook. I made sure he couldn’t turn his head, and he couldn’t spin himself away from that view. We just left him there. No food. No water. Just Lina’s and my smiling faces. Just as he was about to die, Shane and I took him down and tossed him into the vat of acid we keep as one of our disposal methods. He screamed just before he drowned, the chemicals burning the skin from his bones.
Nothing about that made me happy, but it was satisfying.
“Ewan’s home and still recovering. What do you want to do to him?” I know that because the piece of shite texted Lina asking her to video call him.
Fuck no. She didn’t want to give him any sign that would make him think he could manipulate her. If she hadn’t refused, I would have insisted she not make the call. He hinted at Colt’s condition but didn’t describe it. I feared she’d talk to Colton Senior about it. She didn’t.
They spoke, but it was about Ewan’s accountant. She eventually told me Blake had gotten handsy with her once and tried to box her into a room. She’d gotten past him, but he’d been an arse to her after that. She asked Colton to take him out, and he did. Ewan and all the O’Malley men know she ordered it, but they don’t know Colton did it. They just know it was one of them.
“Did Nikki ever share her encryption?” Finn’s as curious about how her system works as I’ve been.
“Yes. She suggested we wipe them out last night. Is that what you want? Empty all of their accounts?”
Yesterday morning, she heard from a woman who dated Blake but can’t stand him now. Lina and Suzette are friends, so Suzette told Lina that Ewan only wants to talk to her because he wants her to smooth things over between the O’Malleys and us. Apparently, he was going to tell her that if I love her, I wouldn’t keep her in the middle since he’s ready to extend the olive branch.
Dillan nods. “Yes. Move all the money that goes into payroll for their legit employees into an account, so they don’t get fucked. But take everything else. Finn, you handle where it goes. Hide it all.”
Finn has accounts a pack of bloodhounds couldn’t find. Accounts buried so deep into shell corporations, behind DBAs, and under stolen social security numbers that we can weather a storm strong enough to need Noah’s ark.
I glance at my watch. “I gotta go.”
Shane stands when I do. “You got everything?”
“Yup.”
I’m more excited than on Christmas. Our parents never got us matching anything for Christmas or our birthdays unless we asked. It was never a case of one of us opened a present and the other wondered which color he got. We’ve been separate people to them since the moment we were born. I loved opening presents.
“Call us in the morning.” Dillan gets up with the rest of the guys.
“Not a fecking chance. It’ll be at least three before I plan to talk to anyone besides Lina. Pish off.” I know Dillan’s fucking with me.
I get to the driveway just as a car pulls up. I wave to Lina and get in when it stops in front of me. From our kiss, you’d think we’d been a part for days rather than hours. I’m like a puppy when I’m away from Lina. I have no concept of time. I’m always excited.
When we pull apart, she realizes we’re still on Dillan’s street—which connects the neighborhoods with every married syndicate couple our age and those of our parents. Finn and Ally are six doors down from Dillan and Mair. We drive past a house for sale that’s next door to Maks and Laura. Definitely not stopping there. We turn onto another road, and we pass Gabriele and Sinead’s house. I internally shake my head and roll my eyes as we pull up to a house four doors past them. There’s a for sale sign here, too.
“Sean?”
“I figured we could look around at a few since you keep telling me you like the area.”
“I do, but wasn’t that a Cosa Nostra house back there?”
“Yeah. There are three more between this street and the next cul de sac over. Eight doors down and across the street is a bratva couple.”
“If a neighborhood could be incestuous, this would be it.” She half mutters as our driver, Tommy, opens her door.
“It’s not like we have pineapples out and swap.”
“Because that would be a bloodbath. None of you could stop the women from carving each other up if they looked at a man other than their own husband.”
“Would you?”
“I’ve been sharpening my knives since we started talking about moving in around here.”
I let her know when Justin could no longer be an issue. We started talking more earnestly about the future and what that would look like for us. Today we’re house hunting.
We visit every house on the market in this neighborhood and the one next to it where more syndicate couples live. Mostly the ones my parents’ age. We’ve just come back for a second tour of the third house we checked out.
“Do you really like this one the most, nounours?”
“I do. We can make an offer now if you want.”
“Really?”
She knows this is going to be a cash purchase. It’s not like we need to line up a preapproval first.
“Let’s take one more walk through.”
There’s a bay window on the second floor in the master bedroom, and she mentioned how she’s always wanted a window seat. She walks over to it but looks back at me.
“Sean?”
“Hmmm.”
“What’s this?”
“Open it and see.”
She picks up a gift box with a lid that lifts while still connected to the base. There’s a small white envelope that she opens without peeking beneath the tissue paper it sat on.
I hated the sun was out that day. It felt wrong. I haven’t had a day without sunshine since I met you. Nothing has felt righter.
She looks up at me now that I’m standing beside her. She pushes aside the tissue paper, and her eyes widen at the smaller box nestled within. I wait for her to lift it out, but her gaze locks with mine. Her lips pull in for a flash as I bend one knee. Then she’s beaming as I take her left hand.
“Lina, I love you. Every day, I’m grateful for those early texts. I’m grateful you agreed to lunch. I’m grateful for the peace you bring my life and the happiness I never expected to feel. Will you marry me?”
“Oui, Daddy.”
Every once in a while, she’ll slip into French. We don’t notice since I’m fluent and switch easily. She pulls out the smaller box but hands it to me. I flip it open, and she grabs my shoulder with her right hand as her left trembles. I slide the ring on and stand. She launches herself into my arms. It’s another first kiss. Our first one as an engaged couple, a couple about to own their forever home, a couple who are soulmates.
“How’d you get this here?”
“I put it down as you were looking at the closet.”
“You left it here?”
“I knew we’d be back.”
“You knew this was the one I’d like the most.”
“Just like you knew this is the one I’d like the most.”
“And if I hadn’t?”
“Danny was ready to run in and get it.”
My third cousin, like six times removed or something like that, is her bodyguard today and was in the front passenger seat.
“Shall we buy a house, cailín?”
“We’re buying our home, nounours.”