Page 38 of Sins of Innocence

"Things happened today that made it impossible to continue keeping our relationship under wraps," I add calmly.

Sadie's face screws up with emotion.

And suddenly Áine is not the chastised daughter, but the competent and protective mother. "It's time Neeve and Joy were in bed. Sadie, you can watch an episode of Wednesday on your tablet in my bedroom while you're waiting for the shower to be free."

Relief flashes in the twelve-year-old's eyes. "Thanks, mom."

"I'll make some tea." Maureen stands up from her easy chair and looks expectantly at me. "You can give me a hand, Mr. Lleshi."

Her calling me Mr. Lleshi causes a cascade of reactions on my girls' faces. Áine looks pained. Sadie looks amused. Neeve looks worried.

And Joy looks confused. "Why'd you call him Mr. Lleshi, gran? He's our friend. We call him Kieran."

"We'll see about that." Maureen turns and heads to what I assume is the kitchen.

Áine's turmoil is written all over her pretty features. She doesn't want to leave me alone with her mom, but she needs to get her girls settled.

Leaning down, I kiss her forehead and then speak quietly near her ear. "It will be fine." My lips brush the shell of her ear. "Trust me."

Her body lists toward me before her eyes widen and she straightens, taking a step back. "I need to get the girls to bed."

Said girls are staring at us with open curiosity but Áine shoos them down the hall toward the bedrooms.

"He kissed you again," Neeve points out like her mom might not have noticed.

Joy skips, stops and turns. "On the forehead like you kiss us."

"It was sweet," Sadie says before disappearing into one of the rooms along the short hallway.

Huh. Sweet? That's the first time that word has been used to describe me since I was too small to remember, if it ever was.

Does Áine think I'm sweet?

"Lleshi's not an Irish name," Maureen observes as I walk into the kitchen.

"It's Albanian."

Maureen finished filling the electric kettle and flips the switch to turn it on. "So, your father is Albanian?"

"No."

"How is that then?" She bustles around the brightly lit room, gathering mugs and the tea caddy, which she places on the counter by the heating water.

"It's complicated." And not something I share with strangers.

Or anyone for that matter.

Since we took out Besnik and his crew before my final initiation into the mob, Mick and Brice are the only living people who know my past. I had to tell Brice so he could understand why I have no loyalty toward the Albanian Boys.

"Uncomplicate it," Maureen demands.

"No."

The older woman turns to face me in a pose familiar to her daughter, her hands on her hips, her chin tilted in stubborn resolve. "That's not going to fly with me, Mr. Lleshi. If you think I'm going to let my daughter marry a man with a mysterious past, you've got another thing coming."

"Marriage?" Convincing this woman that Áine and I want to marry is going to be a lot easier than her daughter thinks.

"Of course marriage. My Áine wouldn't allow a man to build a relationship with her daughters that she thought was going to walk out of their life. That means marriage in this family."