“What…what happened last night?”

“Why are you yelling?” I groaned and dug my head under my pillow.

“I’m whispering. We have to get up if we don’t wanna stress before church.”

“Stop screaming, baby, please.” My head couldn’t take it. Everything hurt. Except silence. Silence was my friend. Peace and quiet were the best. Quiet…

My head snapped up, and I blinked, which fucking hurt. “Did I fuck your tits last night?” I croaked.

“Ohh…that explains why I really wanna take a shower right now.” Emilia tumbled off the bed with a yelp. “Oww.”

I coughed a chuckle, another thing that hurt, and shifted over to her side of the bed. Luckily for her, our bed was kinda low.

“Are you okay?” I couldn’t keep both eyes open. When we arrived home last night, I’d forgotten to close the blinds. The sun was pouring in.

“No,” she whimpered, pouting. She was an adorable mess on the floor. Makeup dusting under her eyes, a sleep line across her cheek, hair goddamn everywhere. She was only in a pair of skimpy black panties. “Help me up?”

“In a minute.” I ogled her with one eye open first.

More memories from last night returned to me. I’d sucked on those perky breasts a lot last night, and quite fucking publicly.

“Finnegan!”

“What, yeah, no, on it.” I cleared my throat and dragged myself out of bed. A rugby team of leprechauns kept pounding on the inside of my skull, and I winced as I helped her off the floor. “Painkillers,” I rasped. “I need all of them.”

Emilia grunted and nudged me toward the bathroom.

It was as if seeing the toilet was what I needed to remember I had to take a leak, so I lifted the lid and dropped my boxer briefs, then sat down.

That earned me a cocked brow while she rummaged through the cabinet above the sink. “Really? We’ve reached that stage in our relationship?”

I squinted up at her. “My condition warrants it. If I stand up, you’re gonna have to clean the toilet after.”

She made a face and tossed me a bottle of ibuprofen. “I was more talking about privacy.”

“Ungh.” I rubbed my temples and closed my eyes. “Can we have this conversation later?”

The horrid witch patted me on the head and left me, announcing she was gonna shower downstairs.

“Privacy,” I muttered. “Ridiculous.”

* * *

I felt marginally better after a shower, a gallon of water, brushing my teeth, and possibly one too many ibuprofen. Emilia was up to something in the kitchen, so I went there once I’d put on a pair of sweats and returned the towel on the rack where I’d been told it had to go. Otherwise, it could leave spots on the floorboards or some such shit. The girl had rules, and I tried to follow them.

I’d like to say I paused in the doorway to watch her flit around while making breakfast, and it was certainly a bonus to have her there. But the reality was I was dead on my feet. Leaning against the doorway, I yawned and got a good whiff of the coffee brewing.

“I like those.” I jerked my chin at her PJs. She wore them often around the house when we were being lazy. Mostly, I loved how short the shorts where and how her nipples teased the light purple fabric.

It was a shame we had church in an hour and a half.

“Thanks. Sarah gave them to me.” She smiled and reached up to grab two mugs, and it caused her little blouse to ride up, exposing her toned stomach. The running we’d been doing was paying off. “I like the buttons. Aren’t they cute?”

I eyed the little pearls and felt my mouth twist. “Sure, that’s what I was thinking. The buttons.”

She snorted and set the mugs next to the coffeemaker. “Such a guy. Maybe I should go around shirtless and tug at my crotch all the time.”

“I don’t tug.” I left the doorway to make myself useful. “I just…make sure it’s still there.”

She giggled, handing me a cutting board. “Dice some fruit, please.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

We didn’t do this often enough, and it was one of my favorites. Making breakfast side by side, bantering, working together like a well-oiled machine. And…honestly, it was one of the things I looked forward to doing the most when we got married. This domestic shit, seemingly insignificant, was what took me away from the pressure at work. Pressure I thrived on but needed breaks from.

I cut up a couple bananas and divided the pieces into two bowls, and I snuck glances at her and felt I couldn’t really hold it in any longer. She hummed a soft tune and put the creamer in our coffee. Four slices of bread popped up from the toaster, and a lock of hair fell down from her ponytail as she did the it’s-hot-hot-hot dance while putting the toast on a plate.

“Hey.” I abandoned the fruit and walked over to her. I pressed a kiss to her forehead, her eyelids, her cheeks, and her nose. She smiled sweetly. My pulse went through the roof, yet there was a strange calm in me. It was her doing. “I’m gonna tell you something,” I murmured and cupped her face, “and you’re gonna keep your little trap shut afterward. I know you’re not there yet—and maybe you never will be—but I want you to know. I love you.” I kissed her quickly, ignoring my hammering heart and her mouth popping open. “I think I fell in love with you the day you handed me my ass at the contract negotiation.” Nudging her jaw up, I closed her mouth and kissed it again. “And I can’t fucking wait to be your husband.”

“Finn—”

“Nope.” I shook my head and pinched her lips together. I prayed it wasn’t a bad thing that her eyes welled up. There was a warmth in her gaze, a tenderness, and it eased my nerves enough. “Don’t say anything. Just know that I love you.”

“But—”

“I swear, princess,” I chuckled. “Let me have this. All right?”

She pouted. “Okay,” she whispered, and I released her lips.

“Okay.” I dipped down and kissed her once more, softer this time, and contemplated asking her if she’d looked up the Irish words I’d written to her. Then I decided I didn’t want the answer, because chances were she had and she didn’t know how to respond to it. It was better to move on. “Did you nickname me Whistler last night?”

She sighed contentedly and rested her cheek on my chest. “Worst topic change ever.” She hugged my midsection, and I smiled to myself. “But, yes. You were so amazing. You’ll have to play more often.”

“Any time you want.” I kissed the top of her head, and my growling stomach settled our next course of action. I had to get some food in me.

Emilia brought a tray full of stuff to the table outside the kitchen, and I finished dicing up the fruit. Bananas, blueberries, watermelon, and a couple nectarines made it into the bowls before I joined her at the table.

“If I’m to understand this security crap correctly, I’m not allowed to take any unscheduled outings…?” She looked at me questioningly.

I nodded and eyed the headlines in the newspaper. “Correct. I know it sucks, but we gotta be careful. If there’s anything you wanna do, let the guys know a day in advance.” If I had my way, she wouldn’t leave the building at all until next Saturday, but then my mother would flip her lid. “All the wedding-related errands are okay. Conn and Colm will pick you up in the garage after getting Ma or whoever you’re going with. They’ll drop you off here after too.”

“Got it.” She nodded once as she spread butter on her toast. “Will you be working much?”

Unfortunately. “I have meetings all week, but I won’t be home late.” Next, I told her that we were taking John and Anne out for dinner on Wednesday, something neither of us was going to enjoy, but it had to be done. The good thing was we’d see Alec and Nessa again, and I could see Emilia brightened at that. “They’ll be staying in our building.” So would a lot of other wedding guests flying in this week. “Which reminds me—you have a decision to make.”

“Oh?”

I took a sip of my coffee. “After the reception on Saturday, do you wanna stay at the hotel or come back here? I ask because we’re not leaving for our honeymoon until Monday, so we’ll have Sunday to ourselves. I figure between packing and leaving the bed as little as possible—stop laughing,” I said, maybe laughing. “I’m serious. I might chain you to the bed.”

She gigglesnorted and forked a piece of watermelon. “I might let you.” Then she shook her head. “Let’s stay here. We just got back, and it’s been a lot of going back and forth.” Certainly true. Additionally, our building was probably the safest residence in Philly right now. Pop and I had guys on watch everywhere, and as soon as Uncle John arrived, so would his own security detail. “Can you tell me where we’re going on our honeymoon?”

“Not even at all.” I tucked into my breakfast and smirked at her cute scowl. “I’m not sure it matters. We’ll barely leave the bed there, either.”

She laughed and shook her head at me. “Promises, promises.”

Oh, she’d see. I deserved a fucking medal for sticking to my guns, though once we were married, all bets were off. Then I’d see about knocking her up too. Someway, somehow.

* * *

“I miss driving.” I drummed my fingers along the armrest in the back seat and looked out at the shoppers on Market Street. I bet they could drive whenever they wanted to.

“You drove yesterday.” Kellan frowned at me in the rearview and stopped at a light.

“Yeah, but now I can’t,” I argued. With only a few days before the wedding, we’d made the decision that no one involved on Saturday should travel alone or be in charge of their own safety. Unfortunately, Pop had told me that included me. So Kellan was now my driver, and my Aston was resting in the garage at home.

My firm’s new vehicles had arrived, and the drivers sure enjoyed the armored limos.

“All right, we’re here, you whiny fuck.” Kellan pulled over at the valet and rolled down his window. “Oi, sir. We’re just picking something up.”

He got out and opened the door for me, and I headed straight inside my jeweler’s shop.

“Mr. O’Shea!” Old Harry broke out his best grin upon seeing me, and I shook his hand and glanced around his sparsely decorated store. Only a handful of displays stood against the red-painted walls, each one with spotlights aimed at big rocks, one bigger than the next.

“How are you, my friend?” I asked.

“Good, good, all good. I’ve got your items ready in the back. Just give me one second.”

I leaned against the glass counter and eyed the diamonds and sapphires and rubies. Man, it made my fingers itch.

Kellan joined me at my side. “Your firm does security here, right?”

“Aye.” I wasn’t gonna do anything here, though. Harry gave us a discount, and my mother would have my ass. “Did you hear about the gig yesterday?” I spoke under my breath. “Almost made me wanna tag along.”

Work continued even in difficult times, and we always had something going on. Last night, four of my boys had installed an alarm system in the middle of a family’s move to their new estate, and they’d walked away with collectibles and an ugly brooch worth a million.

If the family eventually noticed the pieces gone missing, they would do what they all did: blame the movers.

Kellan let out a low whistle after hearing the details. “Innit risky to pull that off while they’re on the scene officially?”

Yeah, but we didn’t do that often. Most of the time, installing security systems just meant we had the means to shut them off too, which could be done whenever. Eric loved to tamper with footage.

“They deemed it safe this time.” I closed the subject as Harry returned with my order. One of the boxes was weirdly big for holding just a wedding band.

“Your lovely bride’s ring.” He retrieved the velvet box from its wrapping and opened it, revealing a thin platinum band that would go with Emilia’s engagement ring. There were tiny diamonds all around it, and an inscription on the inside where we’d put our initials and the wedding date.

“Looks perfect. What’s the story with mine?” I jerked my chin at the larger box. While it’d fit in my hand, it wouldn’t look very good in my pocket.

“Ah, I trust Ms. Porter told you…?” He looked half confused, and he removed the white wrapping—then stopped. Because he literally couldn’t open the actual ring box.

“Is that a code lock?” Kellan leaned closer.

I scratched my eyebrow. “What exactly was my fiancée supposed to tell me?”

I swear to God, baby.

It wasn’t merely a ring box. It was a tiny-ass safe that required a four-digit code.

“She didn’t want you to see the inscription in your ring,” Harry explained. “She didn’t tell you?”

“No.” I didn’t know whether to grin, send her flowers, or shake her. For a man who hated being blindsided, I had a stupid love for having her keep me on my toes. She succeeded every time, leaving me to deal with this…this bullshit. I was torn, yet falling harder every day, it seemed. “I reckon you don’t have access to the code.”

“I’m afraid not, sir. I’d need Ms. Porter’s permission, and she would have to come in.”

Great.

I dismissed it and pulled out my wallet. “I need a little something for my parents too.”

“Right away, sir. Last time Mrs. O’Shea was in, she did look at these quite a bit.” He carefully slid out a pair of amethyst earrings from the displays under the glass top.

“Those are good,” I said. “Pair of cuff links for my pop, and I’ll be set.”

“Yes, sir.”

Kellan clapped me on the back. “I’ll get the car ready, and you know we can have that safe open in twenty minutes.”

Yeah, and I also knew better. I’d let Emilia have this one. I had bigger, more pregnant fish to fry.

* * *

Half an hour later, we picked up Emilia at home, and at the sight of her excited expression, I decided not to mention the rings.

All the way to the airport, she talked animatedly about her final fitting, how much she liked her dress, and how beautiful the bridesmaids would be, each one with a dress matching…something; I tuned out, but there was a mention of the colors of the bouquet.

I nodded and commented in all the right places. First of all, I wouldn’t even see the bridesmaids on Saturday—hell, I barely knew who they were. Secondly, I was betting they’d served champagne at the fitting.

“You’re a little flushed, princess.” I pinched her cheek.

She batted me away and grinned without a care. “I had bubbly.”

“You had bubbly,” I repeated with a laugh. “I’ll say.” Draping an arm around her shoulders, I leaned down and nuzzled her neck. Her skin was so soft and bitable. “You know what I wanna talk about?”

“Uh-uh.” She shook her head and put her hand on my thigh.

“Us. Getting married.” I brushed my thumb over her engagement ring. “Did you think about what I said about our vows?”

I could admit I was doing this to save myself. On Saturday, I fully expected to be a nervous wreck, and the odds of me either having memorized my own vows or being able to hold a note with them written down—without fucking shaking—weren’t in my favor. Therefore, I’d suggested we pick something to read together. It would make it slightly more interesting than doing only the traditional vows, and I wouldn’t look like an idiot ’cause I’d make Emilia hold the note or whatever.

“I did.” She smirked, half shy, half proud, and played with my fingers. “I talked to Grace about it, and she said she’s gonna send us some short prayers we can go through. Is that okay?”

“More than okay.” The shorter, the better. I kissed her quickly before straightening in my seat. My hand remained in her lap, and she ghosted her fingers over the spot where I’d wear my own ring in a few days. “I have some bad news, by the way.”

“Uh-oh.”

Good timing. We were almost at the airport, and I’d need a hasty exit if this didn’t go well.

“I gotta shave before the wedding,” I stage-whispered.

Oh, the fucking horror in her eyes. I wanted to laugh.

“What? No, but you… I mean, no, you can’t!” she spluttered. “What if you have a baby face?”

Whoa, lady, harsh. “What the fresh hell—I don’t have a fucking baby face.” I withdrew my hand and scoffed, more insulted than I should’ve been, maybe. Did I have a baby face? No, screw that. My jaw was goddamn cut. My beard, while I liked it, was a trend. “Listen, you’re just gonna have to manage. For all I know, a beard will make me look like a slob in twenty years, and then what am I gonna do with our wedding pictures? Am I supposed to tell our kids I was a homeless person who photobombed your wedding and pushed out the groom?” Perhaps I ranted too heatedly, but fuck it. I pulled out my smokes from the inside of my suit jacket and lit one up.

“Oh, Finnegan.” In that short little whisper of hers, I heard how close she was to laughing, and it wasn’t funny, goddammit. “There’s something I want to tell you, but I have to wait.” See if I cared. I didn’t. “How about you shave tonight or tomorrow? Then you’d have a little bit of scruff on Saturday.”

I side-eyed her.

She smiled and pressed her lips to my shoulder, only because she was still struggling to hold back her giggles. I could see it in her eyes.

“Fine.” I looked away from her again.

* * *

The airport might be the one place where I didn’t feel the necessity to surround myself—or Emilia—with extra eyes and guns. There was always someone watching, and the place was heavily patrolled.

“We’ll be back within twenty,” I told Kellan, buttoning my suit. Then I extended a hand and helped Emilia out of the car. “I reckon you can just circle around while Emilia and I go in.”

“You got it,” he replied and coughed. “Later, baby face.”

I shot him a murderous look. Oh, unclench, mate. Fuck. I blew out a breath and smacked him upside the head, a little harder than intended, and gave him a smirk. “Keep it up, Ford. Keep it up.”

Emilia was looking away from me, though one had to be blind not to see her shoulders trembling with laughter.

This day was going bloody well, wasn’t it?

Hand in hand, Emilia and I headed inside the airport, and the Murrays’ flight had already landed. I suspected the only reason John hadn’t flown private was because he was trying to show he had faith in me. I’d sworn he would be safe, and not showing trust would destroy his chances of earning mine.

“Hey. I don’t want you to be cranky with me, Finnegan.”

“I’m not cranky.” I kept watching the screens for the arrivals and did the math. My aunt and uncle weren’t the types of people who got their own luggage, so they would come straight through.

“Finnegan.”

“That’s me.”

She sighed. “Whistler…?”

Like that was going to work. Remembering how she’d reacted to my playing for her didn’t thaw me up one bit. Not one—okay, maybe one, but sure as hell not two.

Emilia cranked it up a notch and positioned herself in front of me, and she slipped her hands up my chest and around my neck. Too bad, shortcake, I could see over her. I was marrying a gnome.

“Those twenty years…?” she said softly, “I want them too. I want us to have everything you mentioned. The kids, the wedding pictures we’ll look back on.”

I cared more than one bit.

“Really?” I muttered, sparing her a glance.

“Really. It’s up to you, Irish boy.” She lifted a finger and smoothed out the spot between my brows. “I’ll honor my vows for as long as you honor yours.”

Yeah, see, that wasn’t very reassuring, now, was it?

I was gonna fuck up. I was gonna hurt her.

Thing was, I could sense her limits by this point. She’d learned fast that we told each other some shitty lies in my family sometimes, and she’d accepted it. She’d adjusted and made it her way too.

She had patience in spades.

What she didn’t have was a biological mother, and I couldn’t tell her the truth that would give her one. Not yet. And definitely not before we learned more about the Avellinos. From where I was standing, Elena Avellino wasn’t on our side. She literally slept with the enemy. But to learn that Emilia wanted what I wanted… Fuck, this was gonna blow.

“I will never intentionally hurt you,” I murmured.

Never before had I wished I could promise more.

“Tush!” And never before had Alec’s timing been worse.

I suppressed a sigh, and Emilia tugged me down for a quick kiss. Then she turned around to greet the Murrays with her best smile.

“Alec!”

He flew into her, hugged her hard, and spun her around. The little Casanova was gonna be trouble one day. No one in the family could resist his dimpled grin, fedora, shorts, and suspenders.

Emilia laughed and demanded he put her down, and it was a sight that drew smiles from everyone, including this cranky fucker.

Nessa skipped over to me, stealing Alec’s hat on the way, and I pulled her in for a hug.

“Welcome back, doll.”

“Thanks. This feels like a second home now.” She smirked up at me, and I chuckled.

Alec was next, and he hugged me tightly too. That was how he won hearts and could get away with too much. He was affectionate and cared about his family.

“Good to have you back, cub.” I ruffled his hair and kissed his forehead. Hell, he was taller than Emilia now. It was difficult to reconcile. To me, he was still five.

“Good to be back, boss.” He smiled crookedly and stole back his fedora from his sister. “Mum said we’re staying in your building.”

“Aye, we’ll be neighbors.” I cuffed him on the chin.

He grinned goofily.

“Finn, me boy!” I heard John call. Oh boy, he’d changed since the last time I saw him. He’d always been a stocky man, almost as tall as me, and now his hairline was receding while his gut was growing.

Instantly, Emilia was back at my side, her smile more forced.

I circled a hand around her waist and acknowledged the five or six men surrounding John and Anne. They were dressed casually and keeping their distance, but they weren’t discreet whatsoever, and I bet they felt naked without their guns.

“Welcome to Philly, sir. It’s an honor.” I shook his hand firmly before stepping forward to kiss Aunt Anne’s cheek. “Lovely as ever, Anne.” I had a feeling her newfound youth came with injections. She’d dyed her hair blond for whatever reason.

“It’s good to see you, Finn.” She smiled politely.

“You too. I want you to meet my beautiful fiancée—Emilia Porter. Emilia, my uncle and aunt, John and Anne Murray.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Murray.” Emilia played her part like a pro, never failing to make me proud to be at her side. “I hope you’ll enjoy your stay here.”

“Oh, she’s a treat, lad,” John murmured to me. “You’ve done well.”

Fuckin’ hell, Emilia’s filthy liberal ways were rubbing off on me. Before meeting her, I wouldn’t have the urge to tell him I had nothing to do with her being who she was.

With the greetings out of the way, she and I were separated for a minute while John and I walked ahead toward the exit.

“Everything’s been set up,” I told him quietly. “Your condo’s on the small side, but I figured you’d rather have three neighbors than one.” Because his security would be staying there.

“I’m sure it’ll be just fine, son,” he said. “Business tonight, but then I wanna catch up with my family and enjoy the wedding festivities.”

Patrick was right. John was ready to kiss ass. He hadn’t given a flying fuck about family before.

Kellan was waiting right outside, bitching with airport security, who wanted him away from the curb.

“Christ, we’re leaving.” He flipped the guard off behind his back, then circled the car to pop the trunk. “Good to see you again, sir,” he told John. “Finn’s got something for the gentlemen. Their car is arriving in a minute.”

John peered into the trunk, no doubt seeing the briefcase with handguns. “Ah, good lad. Good, good.” He gestured for his men.

In the meantime, I opened the car door and let Emilia, Anne, and the kids inside.

I followed once John was in too, and we each ended up with a twelve-year-old between us.

I eyed Alec, amused.

“She’ll be mine one day,” he whispered.

I pulled his fedora down over his face.