Extended Epilogues

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• I like retellings.
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• I like reading both.

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• Yes, I would stop reading immediately.
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• No, I'm okay with this kind of content in dark romance.

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Rea

One Year Later

I liked this house better than the one we saw two days ago, I decided. The realtor walked behind me, chattering about the heated flooring and the wall-mounted ovens in the kitchen, while Richie and I explored. “It’s beautiful,” I told her, and I meant it.

I loved the warm cherry cabinetry, such a homey change from the white in both mine and Andy’s apartments, and the huge bay windows that overlooked the backyard. I’d been adamant that we have a home with a yard, somewhere the kids could play that let them actually feel the dirt underneath them, and this lakeview home definitely had that. It wasn’t large, this was Chicago after all and space was a valuable commodity, but it was big enough for a decent play set and that was all I needed.

It would have had more backyard space if it weren’t for the full, semi-detached mother-in-law suite, which was far more important to us. Mom deserved a little more privacy, a space of her own where she could decorate however she pleased, and while the kitchen was on the small side, the bathroom was nice and there was a room with great natural lighting that I was sure she’d want to turn into a studio space. It would be so good for her to have a real space to do her art in again.

In the main house there were a total of seven bedrooms, five of them on the second floor and two of them on the third. Richie wanted one of the ones on the third floor but I told him he had to wait until he was thirteen. That was about the age kids really started wanting their own space to explore and develop anyway, and by then I wouldn’t be so worried about having him on a different floor than us. Hypothetically, at least. So instead, Richie pranced around the second floor, trying to pick his favorite room. He liked the green one, but I reminded him that we could paint any of the rooms green if he wanted and that sent him around the hall again to re-evaluate his options. The only two rooms I told him he couldn’t have, were the master and the smaller, attached room next to it. That would be the nursery for our coming baby.

I didn’t know what to except, but Richie was such a good child, I was pretty sure the universe was going to balance it out by making our second a demon spawn.

Walking around the house I could really envision our life there. We wanted a large family so it was important that we had enough space, and thankfully we didn’t have to worry about how much it would cost.

The master was smaller than the one in Andy’s apartment, but about the same size as the one in mine so it should work just fine for us. The walk-in his and hers closets were a nice touch, but the bathroom is what really sold me. It had a huge soaking tub with a jacuzzi feature, and I knew that even though I was pretty comfortable now, at two months along, by month five that tub was going to be my aching body’s best friend. I’d probably be sleeping in it by the time the due date came around. I caressed my still-invisible baby bump with a smile. Yeah, this was a home.

“What do you think overall, Mrs. Marino?” the realtor asked. I nodded. With mom at the doctor and Andy at work, I was given the power of sole decision making, and a house like this wouldn’t stay on the market for long. As far as I knew, we were the first showing. I turned to the realtor and smiled.

“We’ll take it.”

Richie cheered loudly from the other room, and the realtor grinned. She’d get a good paycheck from this one, not to mention being on the good side of the Marino family. With the Cirenos eradicated we officially owned Chicago—so no one wanted to get on our bad side. Frankly, I liked the perk.

“That’s fantastic! I’m so glad we were able to find a house that suits your needs so well. What would you like to offer?”

“One and a half times the asking price,” I said easily, thinking about what color I’d paint the stair rail. I wasn’t usually so blasé with money, but… “We’re not letting this house get away.”

“Wow! Absolutely, I understand. I’ll just head down to the kitchen and get these papers drawn up while you look around, okay?”

“Papers, you say?” a deep voice said from the end of the hall. My face brightened.

“Andy! You made it!” He grinned.

“I didn’t want to miss it, tesoro,” he said, wrapping his arms around me. “I had a good feeling about this one. Richie?”

“Yeah?” Richie called back, popping out of one of the rooms.

“Do you like it?” Andy asked.

“I love it Dad!” Richie yelled. “Look at this room! I want this to be my room.”

“Then your room it shall be,” Andy said. “I picked Gramma up from the doctor, she’s waiting downstairs. Will you show her around?” Richie gasped and started racing down the hall. “No running on the stairs!” Andy called.

“Yes, Dad!” Richie said, not looking back but deliberately slowing down. We both laughed.

“Why don’t I show Mrs. Sanner her suite?” the realtor asked.

“That would be perfect,” Andy said. “We’re going to stay up here and look around a little more.”

“Of course, sir! Take your time. It’s a wonderful house, I’m so glad you like it.”

As soon as she was down the stairs Andy picked me up with a playful growl, carrying me into the master room and flopping me down on the bed they’d placed there for staging purposes. I bounced, giggling, as he crawled over me.

“Now we’re all alone…” he husked, leaning down to lick up my neck. I smacked at his shoulder.

“Oh my God, seriously?” I asked, grinning.

“Well, we’re buying it, aren’t we?” Andy asked, hands wandering dangerously. “Might as well christen it early.” I giggled and eyed the door.

“Just be quiet,” I said, not bothering to pretend I wasn’t yearning for it. My pregnancy hormones hade me horny at the drop of a hat, and the instant Andy put me on the bed I was already wet and aching. Andy smirked down at me.

“Actually, darling, you’re the one who will be keeping quiet,” he purred, sliding down my body. I raised an eyebrow.

“Andy?”

“Shh, honey. Bite the pillow.”

And then his face was under my skirt, and I was gasping.

God above, he was so good with his mouth. Instantly, like he knew how needy I was, he was latching onto my cunt and lapping at me with an openmouthed enjoyment. I clamped my legs down around his head and shoved my fist in my mouth, readying myself to hang on for the ride. And he took me on a ride.

I worked up quick, the feeling of his tongue parting my folds deeply erotic, like I’d completely forgotten what his mouth felt like in spite of having had it just this morning. It was humid and scorching hot, and probably smothering trapped underneath my skirt, but I’d learned he went feral for my cunt so I doubted he minded. If anything, he probably liked it.

He sighed happily as he traced his tongue around my clit, teasing but not quite touching, even just the minute gust of his breath enough to make my core twitch and clench. “Sweet baby,” he groaned softly, “so wet for me.” I whined into my fist, wordlessly begging him to get on with it. As much as I loved his dirty talk, at that moment I needed my pussy worshipped. Thankfully he was a very devout man.

I covered my mouth, panting through my nose as Andy finally worked his lips over my clit, the first direct touch sending electricity pulsing through me. My sensitivity had gone through the roof to join my libido, and I knew he was relishing it. He could bend me over anywhere, anytime, and guarantee that I’d be a moaning mess for him before he could even touch me.

Abruptly quitting his teasing, Andy attacked my pussy with his tongue and teeth, nipping at the outer lips just enough to pinch a little, and I squealed. My eyes darted to the door, desperately hoping no one heard that debauched little noise and came investigating. Andy, of course, had no such qualms, lolling his tongue out and shaking his head to distract from his fingers joining the fray—in the wrong place. Or, actually, the right one.

We’d been playing around with anal, and I was quickly growing addicted to it. I hadn’t taken his cock there yet—he was entirely too large for that and I needed to work up to it—but a finger or two had become a near constant in our bedroom activities over the last few weeks. He stuck his pointer finger in his own mouth without taking it off of me, coating the digit in a lewd mixture of his spit and my slick, and gently massaged my furled asshole. I finally took his advice, slamming the pillow down over my head to hide my shrieks.

I was humping his head like a dog, pressing up into the heat of his skilled mouth while he pressed at my back entrance. Truthfully, I knew he wouldn’t push it in; he refused to do anything penetrative back there without proper lube, after all. But the pressure was still mind-boggling, the sensitive and underused nerves there making my hips jump. And every time they did, his tongue was there to add to the assault.

My toes started to curl and I quaked, moving erratically as my eyes rolled back. My pussy clenched and unclenched on nothing, Andy refusing to give it anything to fill it up, and as he latched onto my clit and sucked, I felt myself tipping over. I wanted it, I wanted it so bad. Fuck the realtor, she could walk in right now and drop her pants to enjoy the show and I wouldn’t give a fuck. He was so good, he was so so, so good—

I seized up as my orgasm broke over me, quick and intense, unable to even scream.

After a moment the pillow was removed from my face and I looked up at Andy with lidded eyes as I felt him hold his cock to my cunt. He slid it through my slick once, twice, then resumed a furious pace with his hand. I spread my legs wider to give him a good view as he painted my pussy with streak after streak of white.

He pulled up my panties, patting my mound like you’d pat a horse for behaving, making my back arch with a little noise of pleasure. Already I was ready to go again, just the thought of him trapping his cum against my pussy revving my engines, but he pulled away with a smirk. “Come on, tesoro,” he said, tucking himself away with a triumphant little look. “We have a contract to sign.”

I laughed as he pulled me up on wobbling legs, knowing he was going to make me go down there wearing these soiled panties and make small talk with the realtor who may or may not have an inkling of what we just did, and loving it. I took one last look around the room as he ushered me out and smiled to myself.

Yup, this was a place worthy of the next generation of Marinos.

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Romano

“Ladies and gentlemen let us welcome to the dance floor for the first time Mr. and Mrs. Monti!”

There is thunderous applause as I take Giada’s hand and lead her to the dance floor. John Legend’s dulcet tones declaring how all of me wants all of you fills the hall as I sweep my wife around the floor. She’s looking into my eyes, just smiling at me, and I have eyes for no one else. It’s as if we’re in a bubble of our own making and everyone else just ceases to matter.

Way too soon, other couples join us on the dance floor, and soon people are tapping our shoulders wanting their turn with the bride and groom.

After we do a sweep of the room greeting our guests. I sent Tommy an invite not expecting him to show up, but there he is in a blonde wig sitting at a table with Caleb and his wife Myra. I go over to say hello, really glad to see them.

“I’m so happy you made it.”

“Yeah, yeah. After all that drama, this wasn’t the wedding to be missed. Things are changing huh?” Tommy nods, looking impressed.

Yeah, big things are happening. I clap him on the shoulder companionably, as I turn to Caleb. “Good to see you again, man. I still got your bike in my garage if you want to collect it.”

He waves a dismissive hand. “You paid for that thing. It’s yours.”

“Yes, but I know I didn’t pay anywhere near market rates.”

Caleb smiles, then shrugs his shoulders. “Let’s just say you owe me a favor. Keep the bike.”

If there’s one thing I hate, it’s owing favors, but I take it in the spirit of friendship with which it was intended. Suddenly I catch sight of Rose. She’s on her own after clinging to Benedetto all day like a limpet.

“Excuse me guys. I gotta talk to someone.” I get to my feet and hurry towards her, snagging her arm and dragging her out of the ballroom. We walk a little further down the corridor before I round on her, arms crossed.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” I demand.

She looks shaken, which is rich coming from her. “I don’t know what-”

“Cut the bullshit. What are you doing with Benedetto?”

She kind of rears back a bit. “Ben helped me after…” she sniffs, getting teary eyed, “After Tizzy died. He was there for me, he kept me safe.”

I sneer. “Oh, so you are showing him how grateful you are?”

She looks up at me and sighs. “I get why you’re suspicious of my motives Romano, but everyone says you’ve known Giada for two years. That you’ve been in love with her the whole time. So why be angry at me for seeking solace elsewhere?”

I snort derisively. “Seeking solace? You humiliated me in public.”

“I didn’t know they were taking pictures. I would never have-”

I put up a hand to stop her. “Save it for someone who cares.” I wag a finger in her face, “and that someone isn’t Benedetto. Stay away from him. He’s way too good for you.”

She just sighs.

“You have some nerve coming to my wedding, by the way.”

She has the grace to blush at least. “Benedetto invited me. I didn’t want to let him down.” She mumbles.

“Do him a favor and disappoint him early, Rose. Ain’t nobody got time for your games.”

She pales, looking away from me. “For whatever it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

I roll my eyes. “I don’t want to fight with you, Rose, and I’m not holding any grudges, but I don’t trust you. So please find someone else to glom onto that isn’t Benedetto. He does not deserve someone like you.”

She meets my eyes, her own blazing. “Like Giada deserves you? Don’t forget you were also engaged.”

“Yeah, I was, and you didn’t see pictures of me and her splashed all over the news, did you?”

She just glares at me, bosom heaving.

I quirk my eyebrows. “What? Nothing to say?”

To my surprise, she just turns and walks away. I watch her go, nonplussed before shrugging and going back to the ballroom. It’s almost time to cut the cake and throw the bouquet and then my wife and I can blow this joint.

Giada

We drive to the cabin where our honeymoon had been interrupted. I’m still on a high from the wedding. It’s one thing to be married and know, but having a large wedding with all the attention and adulation is something else.

The most satisfying bit was being able to share our love with the world – claiming each other in front of God and everyone. Before we left the reception, my aunt Ludovica took me aside, and hugged me tight.

“I am so happy for you, my dear.” She whispered, “And I have a present just for you.”

She handed me a box and when I opened it, there was an exquisite dagger with a hilt inlaid with emeralds. I reached to touch it.

“Careful!” she warned, “it’s very sharp.”

“It’s beautiful madrina, but why…?”

She squeezed my hand. “This life we lead is dangerous. It is good to always have a weapon to defend yourself and your home. You and Romano are happy now, but should that change, and if you need to get away…” she gave me a significant look.

I just stared at her with wide eyes. Aunt Ludovica really had killed her husband. “Thanks zia,” I said faintly.

She nodded and smiled. “Now go and say goodbye to your mother. I think it’s just hitting her that you’re a married woman.”

I peered over my aunt’s shoulder to see my mom waiting, wringing her hands. I went up to her and hugged her tightly. She held onto me like I was a lifeline.

“Are you alright, mamma?”

She nodded, moving away, but she kept her head down so I could not see her eyes. “I wanted to say… I haven’t always been there for you, but I want you to know that I’m here. And if you need anything… help or just to talk, I’m here for you.”

I squeezed her shoulders, “Thank you, mom. I hear you.”

I looked from my aunt to my mom, two women who are experienced in the ins and outs of marriage; they were both offering me a way out if I needed it.

As I sit next to Romano in his Range Rover, I pray that I don’t ever need the help they’re offering. I turn my head to look at him. His profile is ridiculous. Smooth silky hair, curling every which way, strong jaw, lush, plump lips… he makes me wish I was an artist just so I can draw him.

“What?” he asks.

“Nothing. Hoping for a happy marriage for us.”

He glances at me and then back at the road. “That’s not something you hope for; it’s something you work towards.”

“And you’re willing to do that? Work towards the happiest of marriages?”

“Definitely. It’s you and me babe, till the cows come home.”

His words warm me in a way I didn’t expect to need.

He grins at me. “Color?” he asks.

I smile, “Verdant, emerald, viridian, jade green.”

He chuckles. “Good.”

He accelerates. It takes us an hour and a half to arrive at the cottage and I’m feeling a little tired, much to my disappointment. But I did wake up before the crack of dawn for my hair, make up, dress. Not to mention the entire day of being the center of attention. Honestly, I just want to curl up and sleep.

What a way to start a marriage!

We step into the house, and Romano takes our bags into the bedroom. I sigh, taking a seat, waiting for him to return but he doesn’t. I hear water running and conclude that he must have decided to take a bath. As I sit there, my eyes drift closed.

“…Gi?”

I startle awake, blinking a few times as I look around trying to reorient myself. Romano is bending over me and smiling. “Hi there,” he says gently.

“Wh… wha…?”

He reaches out and snags my hand, pulling me to my feet. “C’mon, I drew you a bath.” He leads me slowly to the bedroom, where he unzips my gown letting it fall to the ground. I make an inarticulate protesting noise as I step away from it, not wanting to leave it there but am too damn tired to argue. He picks it up and slings it over the chair before propelling me by my waist towards the bathroom.

I come to a startled stop at the doorway because the bathroom is softly lit with scented candlelight, there’s light jazz music playing from somewhere and the bath is filled to the brim with bubbles. There’s a bottle of wine and two glasses on the side of the bath.

It’s basically heaven.

I turn to look at Romano, at a loss for words and then I just hug him really tightly.

“This is perfect.” I whisper.

He bends down, breathing into my ear. “Color?”

I laugh out loud. “Definitely green.”

He takes off my panties, my stockings and my jewelry and then leads me to the bath. He picks me up and lowers me gently into the warm water.

I sigh in contentment, leaning back against the edge of the bathtub and just allow myself to sink as deep into the water as I please. I can hear him, clothes shuffling somewhere close, but I am content to just keep my eyes closed and breath. Maybe take a little nap.

I hear a splash and I feel him in the tub with me. He takes hold of my shoulders and pushes me gently forward so he can fit himself behind me. I groan as he pulls me back into his chest.

“That’s perfect.” I whisper, still not opening my eyes. We lie there a while; he puts a glass of wine in my hand, and I take a sip before handing it back. We don’t talk. We don’t do anything except just be. At some point, the water begins to bubble and I realize this isn’t just a bath. It’s a jacuzzi.

Oh, what decadence.

His arms are around me, holding me tightly, making me feel anchored the way being tied up does. Eventually, my skin starts to prune, and I know it’s time to get out. I sit up and turn to face him. “Let’s move this to the bed.”

He nods, getting to his feet, his dick dangling in my face before he pulls me up as well. We step out of the jacuzzi, and he wraps me up in a white terry cloth bathrobe before leading me to the bedroom. He lays me down on the bed, on my back. I feel loose and pliable, ready to put myself absolutely in his hands.

He opens the drawer, taking out not rope, as I’d expected, but silk scarves. He ties my hands to the bedposts, and I close my eyes. Whatever he wants to do to me, I’m game.

He kisses down my belly, until he reaches my belly button which he licks for a while. He’s straddling me the whole time but now he gets off me and goes to the drawer again. This time he emerges with some sort of yellow oil in a bottle. He pours it on his hands and rubs briskly. Next thing I know he’s lathering my skin with it.

He massages the oil into my skin, and I realize that the more he rubs at me, the hotter the oil gets. It’s not uncomfortable. Just the opposite. It’s like a continuation of the jacuzzi – relaxing to the point of somnolence.

I don’t want to go to sleep. I want to satisfy my husband. But if he goes on like this, I’m gonna pass out.

“Romano…”

“Shhh. Don’t say a word. Let me do this for you.”

I relax. Perhaps doing this is satisfying for him. He continues to massage me, running his hands all over my body until I’m a mindless thing with no more awareness than a gnat.

“I’m going to turn you around now,” he says.

I nod, which is honestly a huge effort. He picks me up and turns me around, so I’m lying on my stomach. He ties my hands to the bedpost again, and I lie there, ass naked, legs spread, waiting for whatever comes next.

The first thwack of the flogger on my ass has me opening my eyes wide. The next one has all the somnolence fleeing from my body. I turn my head, trying to see what he’s doing.

“Ah, ah, no peeking. Color?”

“Uh… green?”

“Is it a question or a statement? Safe word?”

I keep my mouth shut.

“Color?”

“Green.”

He immediately thwacks me on the ass again. “Five more should do it.” He says.

Every hit of the flogger is precisely placed so that no place feels the sting of the flogger twice. I can feel myself growing wet and spread my legs a little, wanting to feel the sting on the flogger against the sensitive inner flesh of my pussy.

As if reading my mind, the next hit goes exactly between my legs. The rest of the flogging is carried out amid my moans and groans. I am not only wide awake when he stops but I’m disappointed. Only eight hits.

“More please, sir.” I beg.

“No. This is enough.” He says and then widens my legs. He picks up a candle and I tense, waiting. Slowly, he pours hot wax onto my inner thighs. They’re already hot from the oil. The wax is searing.

I make a punched sound, struggling not to squirm. He holds onto my knees, keeping my legs flat on the bed as the wax cools. He flicks the hardened wax off my skin before adding more.

My legs are straining, eager to squirm about and hump the bed in my arousal. I can’t believe how fast I’ve gone from tired and sleepy to alert and horny. While the wax is still cooling on my thighs, Romano sets my hands free and flicks me over. Once again, he ties my hands before taking nipple clamps to my breasts. I cry out, arching off the bed, not knowing which sensation to focus on.

He runs a hand down my sides, from shoulder to waist, creating a soothing counterpoint to the stinging, throbbing hurt. I’m panting like a dog, waiting to see what he’ll do next. He picks up the candle again and pours a drop right in the middle of my outer vagina, singing the few hairs that have grown out.

I cry out from the shock of it and tense. As the pain slowly ebbs away, I become more aware of my throbbing nipples. That is immediately superseded as he slips a vibrator into me, just shoving it right in with no preamble. It vibrates pretty fast and I close my eyes, the better to take in all the sensations I’m being subjected to.

I feel as if I’m floating free on a cloud of pleasure and pain so intense that I can’t tell the difference between one and the other.

He unclamps my breasts and the sudden expansion of my flesh is its own kind of pain. He closes his lips over my left nipple, suckling hard, his hot wet tongue on me. He uses his hand to massage my right nipple as he does it, the vibrator still causing chaos inside of me.

I don’t know what sounds I’m making – lots of incoherent pleading and moaning, groaning and crying. I know I could never be this uninhibited with anyone else.

Finally, he eases the vibrator out and replaces it with his dick. He’s so hard and hot, invading my inner most person, possessing me like a precious artefact.

Tears fall from my eyes as we are joined.

He begins slow and languid, just hitting all my sensitive walls with his hard cock before he speeds up, his breath against my ear as he pants and moans. I can feel his heartbeat against my chest, racing mine to some climactic finish.

I wrap my legs around his waist and let myself go completely as he rams into me like a machine, over and over, tirelessly. I should not have worried about our wedding night. He meant what he said about working towards our happiness.

I don’t think I’ve ever been happier.

I give myself over to him as my body arches, pleasure washing over and through me, carrying me away in a fugue of ecstasy. I feel him empty himself into me and that causes another orgasm to come bearing down on me. I tighten my legs around his waist and arch my back, wanting to take it all.

All of him and more.

We both collapsed onto the bed, panting, sweating and replete. He reaches up immediately and undoes my bonds, freeing my hands. He massages my wrists, as the blood flows back into them, murmuring soothing words to me as he does.

Once my wrists are done, he gets up and goes to the bathroom, coming back with a warm wet cloth and carefully wiping me down. He frees my hair from its untidy bun and gathers it into a single plait as I lay there and let him take care of me.

Once he’s done, he folds himself around me, holding me securely in his arms.

“Thank you,” I murmur, “for everything.”

He kisses my cheek. “Thank you. Now go to sleep my love. I’m here. I’ll always take care of you.”

The words are a lullaby, soothing me off to sleep.

If you want to know what lies ahead in our story, you may want to get the sequel…

Escaping the scandal that ruined my life, I’m taken to Boston by Benedetto Corte. He claims he is protecting me, yet I feel very uneasy about his intentions. I know his knight-in-shining armor act hides ulterior motives. Now I’m trapped in his home, haunted by blood and the ghosts of the past, and fear begins to mix with my feelings for him. I question his every move because, despite his charm, he scares me.

Twisted Minds of Sin

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Jack

I rub my jaw thoughtfully as I stand over Frankie’s mutilated but still rattling body. He had a strong will to live, for sure. Six months of torture, breaking his fingers and toes, pulling out his nails, skinning him like the disgusting rodent he is… it’s amazing he’s still alive.

“How is he today, Charles?” My voice echoes sharply off the concrete walls and floor. When my doctor shrugs and stares down at a chart, I purse my lips thinly. Machines attached to Frankie are keeping him alive; as much as I wanted to watch him die, I couldn’t risk it.

Not with Cian breathing down my fucking neck the last few months. Jimmy had, once again, gotten a lightbulb moment that saved my ass from further complications. Even though it was unintentional.

“You worked him hard, Boss. He hasn’t woken up in two days,” Charles says, and I jut my chin out at him. He walks over to his small bag on the table and pulls out a box to reveal a syringe. “His infection appears to have subsided, but he’s not going to live much longer. It’s a damned miracle he’s still alive after what you’ve done to him.”

“Proof he’s an insect who’ll die crushed under my boot,” I mutter while Charles injects something into Frankie’s IV. His scalped head flops back, and Frankie groans through the bandages wrapped around his head. I’d cut off his nose, ears, and cock—everything that wasn’t required was gone. “He’s heavily drugged?”

“I gave him a dose about four hours ago, so he should be coherent with this,” Charles says, taking another syringe from the box. He gives me a curious look before injecting Frankie with what I can only assume is a stimulant. It’s incredible what modern medicine can do to keep people alive. “Cian wants him, right?”

“I do,” I tense as Cian’s deep, strong timber crawls up my spine, making the hairs on the back of my neck bristle. I grunted lowly in acknowledgement as I turned to see him leaning against the doorway. Shit. He’s early. Cian saunters towards me, tugging his beard thoughtfully as he examines Frankie with shrewd, brown eyes. “Dose him. I have questions.”

“How was your flight up?” I ask, grinding my words through my teeth. Cian and I aren’t related by blood, but he’s the asshole cousin no one wants around. At least, that’s what I think. Through his thick beard, his jaw ticks, and glances at me like I’m small and inconsequential. “I didn’t expect you for another few hours. I would’ve woken him up earlier if I’d known.”

“The sister knows he’s still alive?” I shake my head as Cian ignores me. He grimly grabs Frankie’s face as he leans over to walk over to the chair. “I thought I told you not to mess with the Southtown Boys after their attempt to circumvent my embargo failed. They needed to conduct business in this city because the Irish Mafia controls it. What’s your explanation?”

“I don’t have one, Cian. He killed Madeline. I honestly couldn’t care less about what plans you had for them.” I answer solemnly; I’m playing a dangerous game. Cian’s got way more sway than I do with the home country. We might have the same rank, but he’s the boss of all of New York City. It’s a whole other level than mine. He looks back at me, broad shoulders straight and unwavering as he releases Frankie’s face.

“Where’re the drugs from the Italian deal now?” He asks, and my eyelid twitches in aggravation. “I’ll be taking them back as restitution for your little crusade.”

Frankie then begins to screech like a wounded dog, buying me some time. I’d already moved about a quarter of the drugs from the Italian deal, and he’s going to make me pay for it twice. I clench my hands into tight fists by my sides, grimacing deeply once his gaze has left me.

The cushion from the steal wasn’t necessary, but it was certainly welcome. I’d set aside funds to build some new downtown buildings, for my next mayoral puppet…

“I’ll arrange it for you,” I answer eventually; with a bit of luck, Cian won’t be aware of exactly how much product the Southtown Boys were trying to buy. Moving half a ton of drugs was almost incomprehensible. He nods, sticking his thumb into Frankie’s eye, and the stench of blood blossoms in the small room.

“Shut up,” With just those two words, Frankie freezes, and Cian crouches down to examine the damage. Frankie’s covered in antibiotic-soaked bandages to keep his flayed skin from becoming infected, and Cian straightens to unwrap the gauze around his eyes. It’s the first time Frankie’s seen light in weeks, and he looks around as much as he can. “You’re the one that suggested Southtown Boys come to Boston. Was it only to kill your sister?”

Frankie recognizes Cian; briefly, I wonder what kind of relationship they’ve got. No doubt, this weasel tried to approach him before scumming it up with a tiny gang. Sluggishly shaking his head, Frankie drools blood and snot down his bandaged neck and chest.

“Did you think killing your sister would open an opportunity for you to slide into the power vacuum it’d create?” Cian asks, his voice hard and icy. I hate the implication, but he’s no fool. I would’ve been a wreck if Heather died. Robert would’ve covered for me, and it wouldn’t have been difficult, but… “What were you trying to accomplish?”

“F—fuck you.” Frankie rasps; his ruined body suffering from spasming when he speaks. Cian leans down to prop his forearms on his knees and places his foot exactly where Frankie’s cock should be. All I can do is stand here and hope Cian rushes the fuck up.

“Why’d you nudge the Southtown Boys into dealing with the Italians in a city ruled by the Irish?” he questions, his voice dispassionate. But Frankie doesn’t answer, shivering and shaking as the pain meds he relies on start to wane. The stimulant Charles had injected him with makes him feel everything, though. “Answer my questions, and I’ll grant you a quick death. Or don’t, and I’ll let Jack continue with this circus.”

But Frankie stays silent, eyes drifting around listlessly. I grind my molars before Cian stands, shaking his head and turning to me. “Do whatever you want with him. Where’s Robert?”

“He should be upstairs. Charles.” I look at the doctor, who nods before digging his bag again. Cian and I leave the basement room, and I glance back at him as we walk up the stairs.

“Your boy, Jimmy,” Cian says as we emerge into the kitchen, and I look over at him thoroughly. His thoughts cloud his eyes. “He’s the one that suggested you keep Frankie alive, right?”

“Yeah, he’s got some good ideas sometimes. Torturing him has been fun, but—” I trail off when Cian’s gaze slips over my shoulder, and I twist to find Mary quickly turning on her heel to rush out of the kitchen. “Mary, my maid.”

“Ah,” He says shortly, and I hold my breath as a cold sweat breaks out under my clothes. “Where’s your wife?”

“Heather said ‘no,’” I reply, and Cian’s eyes widen in surprise before throwing his head back, laughing heartily. Fighting a grimace, I suck in a sharp breath. I’d proposed to Heather for no real reason; it was in bed, after sex, when we were just floating. And she’d laughed so beautifully before telling me to knock that shit off. “How’d you know about that, anyway?”

“You’re not the only one that can bug people, Jack. Either way,” Cian inhales deeply, wiping the amusement off his face without effort. Nervousness worms through my veins under his gaze. “She’s interesting. I’ll meet her eventually. I know you sent her off because I make you nervous, but I have no intention of messing with you or her that way, Jack. It’s boring, interfering in the personal lives of others. I’d much rather meddle else how.”

“Why’re you doing this, Cian?” I ask, ignoring his assurance. I wouldn’t believe him if my fucking life depended on it. He arches a brow, stroking his beard once again. “The Italian deal, I get. Frankie, though… do the Southtown Boys know I have him?”

“Who, exactly, do you think the Southtown Boys are? I know Jimmy was down there, but what did he tell you?” Cian combats my question with his own, and I grunt lowly, shaking my head. Gesturing for him to follow me, we head for my office, and I shut the door behind us only to find him taking my seat behind my desk. Irritation simmers in my blood, but I push it down as I take the chair across from him. He fiddles and touches the things on my desk, picking up a picture of Madeline to lean back and sigh heavily. “Madeline?”

“Yes. It was at my parents’ retirement party.” I don’t understand why he’s beating around the bush. He’s not that kind of person. The silence is charged, electrical, when he meets my gaze somberly.

“Southtown Boys obliterated Seven Fingers and OG Nation,” Cian responds, and I stiffen in surprise. His brow furrows, his voice roughening and deepening as he explains. My heart pounds against my chest, and dread roils in my stomach. “Took over their territory. Every one of their operations. They’re trampling over all the other nameless gangs. They’re planning a regime change, Jack. And I’m their target.”

Was there a part that bored or that you didn't really like in the book? *

Even a character, a scene, or anything. You could say no if nothing bothered you.

How did you feel about the balance between action and romance in the book, and did you think one was more prevalent than the other? *

• Personally, I felt that the action was more prevalent than the romance in the book.
• I thought the balance between action and romance was well done.
• In my opinion, the romance was more prominent than the action in the book.

Did the story effectively capture the essence of the dark mafia genre? *

• Yes, the story effectively captured the essence of the dark mafia genre.
• Somewhat, but it could have explored it even further.
• No, the story did not effectively capture the essence of the dark mafia genre.

Did the story flow smoothly and keep your attention throughout? *

• Yes, the story flowed smoothly and kept my attention throughout.
• The story had its moments of engaging narrative flow, but there were parts that felt slow or disconnected.
• No, the story did not flow smoothly and struggled to keep my attention.

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Killian

Two years later…

With a sigh, I step out of my meeting with one of the Saudi princes that I do business with. I check my phone and see that the time is almost five, and I’m running right on schedule to pick up my wife from her knitting class.

Wife. I still can’t believe it.

I shake my head at myself while smiling. Antonella O’Sullivan has been the brightest light in my life since she entered my world.

I get into my car and start the engine, adjusting my rearview mirror and catching sight of the car seat that had been buckled into the back.

It makes me laugh a little. Despite being almost three months ahead of schedule, Nella’s nesting has kicked in real hard. I didn’t mind while she slowly baby-proofed our entire lives. It gives her a sense of control despite the obvious change that is coming soon.

I can’t wait for it though.

Heading out of the conference center, I make my way downtown to where Nella’s her craft studio is located. She opened it up early last year, right after she secured herself a business loan. I can still remember the day she had come home with the paperwork in her hands, jumping up and down as she explained to me that she’d been approved.

At first, I’d been confused. We didn’t need a business loan to open up a studio for her. I was making millions with Thomas Industries backing me, which could afford us twenty businesses if she wanted.

But seeing the absolutely pride in Nella’s face, hearing how accomplished she felt to do this on her own, I knew exactly why she’d done this. It was for herself. To prove that she could be her own person, her own business owner, and that she wouldn’t have to rely on anyone if she didn’t want to.

I’m so damn proud.

Getting to Nella’s studio, I park outside at the curb and head in.

It was a cute place that she’d gotten, right in the heart of downtown Chicago. The location brings in a ton of foot traffic, as well as parties from the local school next door. It was the perfect place to build a community of crafters from all walks of life.

Nella’s joy for teaching others was palpable. Each time I came to pick her up, I always came a little early so I could watch her move around the room and teach.

I loved seeing my wife so happy, in her element, finally finding something that sparked joy for her and her alone.

I nod to the receptionist who gives me a wink, and I spot Etta standing in the doorway leading into the studio space.

“Hey,” I say to her quietly. She turns to hold her arms out to give me a light hug. I squeeze her gently before releasing her.

“Hey! You here to pick up Nella?”

I nod, taking in the sight of her suitcase at her feet.

“Today the day?”

She looked down at it, nodding with a certain kind of triumph. “Yup, just wanted to say goodbye to Nell before I took off.”

“She’ll like that.”

Etta nudges me, and we both lean into the doorway to watch Nella —who was now at the stage in her pregnancy where she was waddling. When she turns to fix one of the student’s hands, she spots us both.

“Alright class!” she tells the students surrounding her. “That’s all for today! Make sure you gather your supplies and put them back into your cubbyhole before you go!”

Excitedly, they all get up and race over to the cubbies on the other side of the room.

“No running!” Nella puts her hands on her hips.

I snicker to myself.

Etta nudges me. “Soon, you’ll be hearing that every day.”

“I know. I can’t wait. He’s going to be a nightmare.”

Etta laughs at me. “With your genes combined? Most likely.”

Nella heads over to us, putting a hand on her round belly. Her swing dress sways around her ankles, making her look like she’s walking on water. Both Etta and I move away from the doorway, giving her enough room to squeeze past us.

She folds herself into me, hugging me tight.

“Hi!”

I kiss the top of her head. “Hello, my love.”

Etta moves farther back as a few kids filter out into the main lobby to wait for their parents.

I rub Nella’s back. “Did you have a good class?”

She laughs. “Oh yeah. Only one needle in the eye incident this week so far.”

We all laugh together, knowing that that is actually an accomplishment from the usual two a day.

Nella pulls away from me to hug Etta tight in her arms.

“You leaving?”

“Yeah,” her friend rubs her back gently before pulling away. “I wanted to come say goodbye before I left.”

She smiles and rubs her hand over Nella’s belly, her voice becoming more high-pitched.

“And I wanted to say goodbye to my sweet little nephew. Don’t worry! Auntie E will be back with plenty of gifts from New York!”

I shove my hands in my pocket, giving them both an amused look. “Are you excited?”

Etta grins and gives me a thumbs up. “Yup! My apartment is all ready for me to move into. And the Law Firm got back to me and told me that my starting date is Monday.”

Nella smiles at her friend, putting a hand at the top of her belly when our son kicks.

“Is your boss okay with you coming a little early?”

Etta nods. “Yeah, he was a little weird about it on the phone, but I think that’s because he isn’t good with meeting new people.”

I raise a brow. “You can gather all of that from a phone call?”

She winks at me. “Of course. Being a lawyer is all about fleshing out the info, Killian.”

I hold up my hands, surrendering. My expertise is certainly not in upholding the law.

More like breaking it.

“But don’t worry.” Etta kisses Nella’s cheek. “I’ll be back for the holidays.”

My wife nudges her. “You better, or else I’m getting Killian to send people to track you down.”

I smirk. “Legally, I’m obligated to do whatever she tells me.”

Etta laughs at us. “Aww, guys! I feel so loved!”

Nella pulls her into another hug. “You are. Don’t forget that while you’re out there.”

“I won’t. I promise.”

The alarm on Etta’s phone goes off.

“Damn, time already.”

I nod back to the street door. “Let us drop you off at the airport.”

She perks up. “Really?”

Nella grins. “Let me just tell my secretary so that she knows to lock up once all the kids get picked up.”

“Okay!”

I grab Etta’s suitcase and head out the door with her in tow, nodding to Nella’s secretary again before pushing the doors open and stepping out onto the busy street. Etta moves past me and grabs the door to the backseat of my car, holding it open for me.

I thank her and shove the suitcase inside, pushing it over to the opposite door and nod for her to get in.

“Thanks, Cecelia!” I hear Nella say from behind me. “I’ll see you tomorrow!”

Etta climbs into my car, tucking her legs in so that I can shut the door behind her. I pat her side and grab a hold of the passenger door, opening it for my wife. She puts her hand on my chest and leans forward to kiss me.

“Thank you, my love.”

I smile against her lips. “Anything for you.”

She laughs softly, knowing exactly what I meant.

Anything for her, I would do.

Anything for our unborn son, I would do.

Anything at all that either of them asked me, I would do with my whole heart.

For the future of my wife and my soon-to-be-born son… I can’t imagine anything could make me prouder.

I give Nella one more kiss before helping her into the car. She looks up at me with her dark brown eyes, so full of love and devotion for me.

“I love you, Killian O’Sullivan.”

“I love you more, Antonella O’Sullivan.”

She laughs and yanks the door, shutting it herself.

I shake my head in amusement.

God, I love this woman.

And I can’t wait to see what the future holds for us.