I wince. “I’m sorry.”

  She growls. “Stop saying you’re sorry.”

  “Fine. Why don’t you go upstairs and get some rest then?” With a hand to her lower back, I guide her to the kitchen. “We’ll talk again tomorrow when you’ve had a chance to sleep on everything.” And sober up.

  “I’m still mad at you,” Sorcha slurs the tiniest bit and pokes the middle of my chest.

  I clasp her hand and kiss her fingertip. “I know you are.”

  She climbs the stairs with me right behind her in case she stumbles, but she makes it safely to the top. At the landing she turns and hugs me. I’m going to take that as a sign that she’ll forgive me after she sobers up and has time to think.

  “Night.” I draw back and kiss her forehead.

  Sorcha scrunches her nose. “Still mad.”

  I chuckle. “Go to sleep.”

  She opens the door and then closes it in my face without a goodbye. I head downstairs and come to a stop at the exit. Shite. I don’t have a key to the pub, which means I can’t leave. Otherwise, it’ll be unlocked the whole night. I guess it’s a good thing I slept late today. It’s going to be another long fucking night.

  CHAPTER 8

  Sorcha

  My head is pounding. I lie still hoping the pain will ease, but the throbbing at the base of my skull remains. My mouth is dry as the desert, too. What the hell? I hope I’m not getting sick. I can’t afford it. With a groan, I slowly sit up in bed and rest my forehead between my palms. The thud-thud inside only gets worse. My stomach roils, and I swallow back the nausea. Bits and pieces of last night and yesterday return. Oh, yeah. Not sick. Hungover.

  I can’t believe Aidan has been lying to me all this time. If we’re going to remain friends—my heart pinches at the possibility of not staying friends—I’m going to have to come to terms with the fact he belongs to the freaking mafia. As much as it should, that isn’t what bothers me the most.

  The one person I never imagined lying to me is Aidan. How long would he have continued doing so if those bastards hadn’t shown up yesterday? Forever, probably. That’s what hurts more than anything. It’s the fact he didn’t trust me enough to tell me the truth.

  And marriage? What the hell was he thinking telling his…brother-in-law, or whatever he is, that I’m his fiancée? Would it really be so bad being Aidan’s wife? Yes, since I could easily fall in love with him. Hell, I’m already halfway there. And then what? Spend the rest of my life loving a husband who doesn’t love me back? Because that sounds like a lot of fun.

  Would he still cover the debt even if we’re not married? How much did Da borrow from this Sheehan bloke, anyway? If I decline Aidan’s non-proposal and ask him to loan the money to me, will I be able to pay it back? The way he described Liam Campbell, I doubt he’d give me any kind of extension. Which means, either way, I’m screwed. In this moment, I hate Da.

  Slowly, I crawl out of bed, trying to keep the nausea at bay, down a couple pain relievers, and take a shower. It’s barely light outside, which means it’s still early and the kids are sleeping. Once I’m done getting dressed, I head into the kitchen and make some tea. While the kettle heats up, I eat a leftover scone, hoping it will settle my stomach. With my cup in hand, I make my way downstairs. I grew up in the pub, and although I never pictured myself running it, especially alone, being inside it soothes me in ways. The familiarity and the reminder of better times, I suspect.

  I walk out of the kitchen, turn on one of the lights, and come to an abrupt halt. Lying on his back across four chairs pushed together to form a line is Aidan. His arms are folded over his naked chest and his feet hang over the edge of the last chair. Beneath his head is, only what I can assume, his crumpled shirt. I take a moment to study him. Nearly every chiseled inch of him from just under his pecs, up his chest and neck, across his shoulders, and down both arms all the way to his fingertips is covered in black ink. I asked him once what all the designs and shapes signified and he told me he just liked the way they looked. He also has a couple small facial tattoos, including a tiny four-leaf clover at the corner of his left eye, and a silver hoop through the left side of his nose too.

  His hypnotic and bright blue eyes are hidden by closed lids whose entirely too long lashes make me envious. Same with his full lips. My fingers itch to sketch him exactly the way he is. Relaxed yet still holding on to the slight edge of danger he possesses while awake. My gaze travels the length of him again and then up to his face. This time, he’s staring back.

  “What are you doing in here?” The words tumble out.

  He unfolds his arms and pushes himself to sitting with a groan. “Christ, those are some uncomfortable chairs.”

  “Aidan?”

  He looks over at me. “I got locked inside.”

  I glance at the door. Oh shit. I stumbled upstairs last night, not even thinking about the fact the door was locked and that he’d have no way of getting out. Well, he could have left, but that would have meant the pub would be unlocked the entire night.

  “I’m so sorry. Why didn’t you come and get me? I would have let you out or you could have slept on the couch. It would have been far more comfortable than those chairs.”

  “You were pissed. It’s a fitting punishment, being forced to sleep on hard chairs for a night, I suppose.” He stands and slips his shirt over his head, hiding the stunning canvas of his body.

  Again, my fingers twitch with the desire to put his likeness to paper. “I guess you’re right.” There’s still a twinge of guilt.

  “You’re up early,” he says while he puts the chairs back where they belong and I slide into the nearest booth. “How are you feeling?”

  “Like I took three shots of whiskey in less than a minute and barely slept, which five years ago, wouldn’t have even stunned me. But I haven’t drank more than a a beer here and there in those five years, so it sort of hit me.”

  He sits across from me and lays his forearms on the table.

  I take slow sips of my tea. Thankfully my stomach has settled a little and my head isn’t throbbing as bad as it had been. We sit for a few more minutes in silence. I rub my thumb up and down the outside of my cup. “How much did Da borrow?”

  “I told you I’ve taken care of it.”

  “Tell me,” I demand.

  Aidan sighs. He knows how stubborn I am when I want something. “Over ten thousand.”

  I blink back tears and swallow. The nausea returns full force.“I see.”

  That amount is probably nothing to. Merely a drop in the bucket. Pocket change. The thought alone is enough to make me sick.

  “You don’t have to worry about it anymore,” Aidan assures me yet again.

  “Not worrying about it apparently means marriage. It won’t work, though. Your life is in Dublin. Mine is here.” I palm my tea cup and squeeze.

  “Except Campbell says he doesn’t believe we’re getting married if you’re here and I’m not. Which means he won’t clear your debt.” His jaw clenches. “Besides, you and I both know running your Da’s pub is never what you’ve wanted to do. Aisling is only six. That’s another twelve years of being here until she leaves for uni. Do you really want to be forty and still living in Burtonport working at a pub you don’t even want? You live upstairs for fuck’s sake. There’s no getting away from here.”

  Aidan’s words hurt. Then again, the truth often does.

  “So what? I’m just supposed to give this whole place up, marry you, and move the kids to Dublin—uprooting them from everything they know—because your psycho brother-in-law won’t believe this farce you’ve created if we don’t? What happens then, Aidan? Do we just go about our daily lives while you do whatever it is that you do in the mafia and I, what? Stay home and keep house?” I lash out.

  He reaches out and grabs my hand. “You can do whatever you want to do. You could even go back to art school. Get the degree you wanted. Open the art gallery you always dreamed about.”

  Tears gather in my eyes and spill down my cheeks. I’d given up that dream when my mum died, because Da needed me here.

  “Besides, I know you, remember? You’d be terrible at keeping house.” Aidan grins.

  I sputter out a watery laugh and swipe my face with my free hand. The offer is more than tempting. “That still doesn’t answer the question of what if you fall in love with someone, or I do? I don’t want to do that to either of us.”

  He squeezes my hand. “There are no guarantees with anything in life. But I can promise you this. No matter what happens in the future, I will always take care of you. That will never change regardless of anything else. Besides, weren’t you the one who told me not so long ago that you’re pragmatic and you aren’t going to worry about something that may or may not happen?”

  I pout at him. “You know it’s quite rude to throw my own words back in my face.”

  He loses his smile and his expression turns serious. “This is the only way to protect you, Sorcha.”

  I’ve never responded well when being backed in a corner, but this time I’m not really sure there are any other options. I can’t afford to pay Da’s debt and I don’t fancy a return visit from those men. I shudder at the memory of the devil’s tongue on my skin. If his boss is anything like him, then he’s terrifying. How in god’s name is Aidan’s sister with someone like that?

  “Let me talk to the kids. They have a right to know what’s going on before I make any decisions.” How do I explain something like this to them? Kellen is smart enough to figure out there’s more to what’s going on and he’ll tell Carson. There are no secrets that I’m aware of between them. That just leaves Aisling. She’ll be the easiest. She loves Aidan.

  He squeezes my hand. “Everything is going to be fine.”

  I force myself to smile and keep my eyes on his. If only he wasn’t such a gifted liar.

  CHAPTER 9

  Aidan

  Why does it feel like I’m lying to Sorcha? There’s an itch under my skin that won’t go away. She draws her hand out from under mine and stands.

  “Come upstairs and I’ll make breakfast. The boys will probably be awake in a little while.”

  I follow her up to the flat and into the kitchen. “What can I do to help?”

  She waves me off. “Just have a seat and tell me about this family of yours. I should probably know more about them if there’s a chance I’ll be marrying into it.”

  While Sorcha moves around the room and takes things from the fridge and cabinets, I talk. “What do you want to know?”

  She glances over her shoulder at me with a small glare. “They’re your family. What are the important things you think I should be aware of?”

  If she’s going to be my wife, I guess I should start with the basics. “Carrick is my Da. He’s the head of our organization and is both respected and feared. He loves his family and isn’t afraid to show us he cares about us. He’s hard, but fair. Nora is his long-time lover who lives at our home. They started an affair while he was married to my mother, Kathleen, which resulted in my half-sister, Imogen. We only recently found out about her, though. She’d been raised by someone else who she always believed was her mother.”

  “Lord, that sounds complicated,” Sorcha remarks.

  “It’s been a lot for us to deal with. Especially with her and Campbell being a thing and the fact that until they got together, he was doing his damnedest to destroy our entire family and take over Dublin.”

  She whistles. “I’m guessing that didn’t go over well?”

  I chuckle. “There will probably always be animosity between him and us, but as long as he keeps his business to himself and we keep to ours, we’ll manage to remain civil. For Imogen and Nessa’s sake.”

  “Who’s Nessa?”

  “She’s Campbell’s stepsister, and if Cian has anything to say about it, she’ll be my brother’s fiancée soon as well.”

  Sorcha turns, leans against the counter, and stares at me. “Let me get this straight. Your brother is soon to be engaged to your, for lack of a better word, adversary’s stepsister, and this same adversary also happens to be romantically involved with your half-sister?”

  I nod slowly. “That’s pretty much it.”

  She bursts out laughing. “I bet that makes family reunions awkward.”

  “You have no idea. Although, we’ve all only been in a one room together twice and it became clear very quickly that it won’t become a regular occurrence. Too much bad blood.”

  “I can imagine.” Sorcha goes back to preparing breakfast. “So, Cian is the oldest. He checks in on the various legitimate businesses we own and makes sure they’re all running smoothly. Finn runs and manages our casino. Takes care of the accounts and supervises all the employees.”

  “And what do you do?” she asks.

  What do I do? Cian oversees our general operations and Finn is the one with the knack for numbers and business. Me? I’m the one with the artistic talent. What would Sorcha say if she knew that I create counterfeit artwork and then we sell it to unsuspecting victims for a fuck lot of money?

  “Aidan?”

  I shake myself out it and glance up at Sorcha. “Yeah, sorry. I’m security.”

  “Security like a bodyguard or something?”

  “Basically, yes. On occasion, I’ll work the floor of the casino and make sure tempers remain in check and that players behave themselves while in our establishment. If they have grievances with each other, they have to take it elsewhere.”

  She makes some small noise. “And your cousin Caitlín lives here with her fiancé, who also works for your Da?”

  “Yes. Her brother Nathan and his wife and kids live here as well. Lucia works at the National Museum of Ireland. Not sure exactly what her title is, but from what I understand, she pretty much runs it.”

  Sorcha puts the pan in the oven and comes to sit near me at the table.“The National Museum? That’s incredible. It’s one of the most prestigious museums in the UK, aside from the British Museum.”

  “I’ll take your word for it.” I huff out a short laugh. “Now you know all the immediate family.”

  “I’m already overwhelmed and I’ve never met any of them.” Sorcha clenches her fingers together.

  “We’re all normal people,” I try to reassure her.

  She snorts. “Normal people don’t run the Irish mafia.”

  “Almost normal, then.”

  Approaching footsteps draw our attention to the living area where Carson walks in. He glances over at us and waves. “Hey.”

  I nod in greeting. Sorcha gets up and sends him over to the table while she gets juice out of the fridge and fills a glass for him. Minutes later, Kellen and Aisling trod in and she pours their drinks as well. The three of them are seated and chatting amongst themselves. I glance over at her as she cleans up. She’s always taking care of everyone. Who takes care of her?

  Sorcha finishes up and finally takes her seat. “Breakfast should be ready soon. But while you’re all here, I—we—wanted to talk to you about something.”

  Their gazes bounce between us and the three of them are unusually quiet. Probably remembering the tension from yesterday and the way I’d left. Sorcha’s eyes dart in my direction before focusing on her siblings again. She hesitates then opens her mouth and closes it, like she’s unsure where to start. She takes a deep inhale.

  “Aidan asked me to marry him,” she blurts out. “We wanted to tell you first and see how you feel about it.”

  Kellen and Carson are quiet, but Aisling wiggles in her seat.

  “Does that mean Aidan will be my brother?”

  Sorcha glances at me. “Yes, I guess it does.”

  The little girl jumps down from her chair and runs around the table to throw herself in my arms. “Woohoo! I get another brother.”

  I squeeze her back. “And I get another sister.”

  Aisling steps back. “You have a sister?”

  “Her name is Imogen.” I nod. “I also have two brothers, Cian and Finn. So you’ll really be getting three more brothers and another sister.”

  She turns to Sorcha. “Did you hear that? I’ve got more brothers and a sister.”

  “I heard. That’s exciting.” Sorcha smiles at her, but her eyes hold worry as her gaze flickers to her brothers. “What about you two? How do you feel?”

  Kellen speaks up first. “Does this mean you won’t have to borrow money for the pub now?”

  His sister startles. “Where did you hear that?”

  “I overheard you talking on the phone last week.”

  Sorcha’s face flushes.

  “Yes, it means she won’t have to borrow any money,” I speak up. “I told you I’d do what I could to help.”

  Sorcha sputters. “You two talked about this already?” Her pitch rises with each word.

  “The boys were worried about you.”

  Her mouth snaps shut, but I can tell she’s upset about it still.

  I turn back to the kids. “Before you make up your minds, you should know that if your sister marries me, we would all need to live in Dublin. The pub will still be here for when you get older if you want to come back. I’ll take care of it. But until then, you’d have to leave here.”

  Quiet settles over the entire room until Sorcha finds her voice. “Nothing has to be decided today. I just wanted to let you know that he asked. We can talk about it later tonight if you want. Give yourselves time to think on it.”

  She heads over to the oven to check on whatever she’d put in there. It must be done, because she brings it out and sets it on the counter. I glance over at the three kids.

  “It’ll be okay,” I mouth to them with what I hope is an encouraging smile.

  Sorcha opens the fridge and brings the jam and cream to the table. Then she carries a basket over and sets it down as well. She glances at me. “Hope you don’t mind scones again.”