Page 11 of Mine
‘Sweetheart,’ his deep gritty voice sets my pulse spiking all over again, ‘The Rory thing won’t blow over until I blow his head off. But don’t worry, I’m working on that tiny detail. Until then, if you want the full protection of The Syndicate, you’ll need to be a Kincaid. When you become my wife, each and every one of my men would die for you.’ He swipes a hand over the dark stubble dusting his jaw. ‘I know you don’t want to marry me. But trust me, it’ll be worth it when Dublin is a Kavanagh free zone, and you can sleep safely in your bed at night without worrying if he, or any of his men, are after you.’
I open my mouth to argue with him, before realising he’s right.
I’ll never be safe while Rory Kavanagh lives and breathes.
And neither will my father.
Dominic knocks back his whiskey and bangs the glass on the bar. ‘Come on. Let’s get out of here.’
I place my empty glass next to his, then shriek as he sweeps me up into his arms, cradling me against his chest. ‘I can walk!’ I squeal, flinching as my palm slides over his hard, muscular pec.
‘No, you can’t. Your feet have barely stopped bleeding. As your fiancé, it’s my responsibility to take care of you. Let me,’ he growls.
I sigh, wrap my arms around his neck and cling to himlike a lifeline—because he’s the only one I’ve got. ‘Where are we going?’
‘Home.’ He carries me out the back, down a set of concrete stairs, and out into a secluded alleyway.
I don’t know if I’ve been saved by a dark and dangerous prince or captured by the beast of all beasts.
Either way, there’s not a lot I can do about it now.
5
AOIFE
Ablack BMW X5 awaits outside on the cobbled street at the back of Dom’s. Dominic lifts me into the back, gently sliding my ass across the lavish cream leather before jumping in beside me. The door slams shut, and I jump. His fingers brush over my bicep. ‘You’re okay, Aoife, you’re safe,’ he reiterates with a quiet confidence.
Two men dressed in suits and crisp white shirts manspread across the front seats. They turn to look as Dominic straps me in like a child. One has piercing blue eyes, a nose ring, and dark ink scrawled over his neck and face. The other has dark hair, and a short, trimmed beard. They’re both absolutely gorgeous—and utterly terrifying.
‘Owen, Cathal, this is my fiancée, Aoife.’ The men exchange a glance, then turn back to Dominic curiously. He reaches for his seatbelt, eyeing them both levelly, almost daring them to question him.
They don’t.
‘Aoife, meet my brothers, Owen and Cathal.’ He taps Cathal—the driver—on the shoulder, and the vehicle glidesforward, the engine purring so quietly it’s practically inaudible.
‘Nice to meet you.’ I manage to find my manners as I shuffle slightly closer to Dominic. Whatever his reputation, he’s my six foot four security blanket right now, and I am clinging on to him for dear life.
‘Congratulations,’ Owen clears his throat, as Cathal eyes us both in the rear-view mirror. ‘When did you guys meet?’
‘About half an hour ago,’ Dominic tells them bluntly, patting the back of my hand. The contact, however inappropriate, is oddly comforting.
Owen and Cathal exchange a look of amusement in the front. Is none of Dominic’s family even slightly perturbed that he just got engaged to a woman he just met?
‘You owe me a grand,’ Cathal says to Owen with a grin.
Owen huffs out a breath. ‘Who’s the…’ he starts.
‘Ciaran is.’ Dominic cuts him off before he can finish. ‘It’s already decided.’
‘That fucker.’ Owen tuts, folding his arms across his chest. ‘What kind of stag party do you think he’s going to organise? He couldn’t organise a piss up in a fucking brewery.’
‘Never mind that.’ Dominic’s tone leaves no room for debate. ‘Give me an update on the delivery from the Colombians.’
As the city whizzes by outside, my brain whizzes inside. I don’t even attempt to follow the Kincaid’s cryptic conversation. Shipments, debts, and deals—all discussed without divulging any actual details. They may as well be talking in another language.
I have no idea where they’re taking me.
But I have nowhere else to go.
