Irish Devil: A Forbidden Lovers Mafia Romance: Brooklyn Kings, #4

By LK Shaw

Aurora

 

It started with a stolen kiss. A brief flirtation between two strangers. Until reality intruded. He was a part of the Irish mob, and my father had other plans for me.

 

In the three years since, I've lived in a hell of secrets and lies, leaving me a broken, shattered version of my former self. Then, I come face to face with Jack again. The man who will either become my savior or my destruction.

 

Jack

 

My Irish family has spent years rescuing women trafficked by the Polish mafia. I've been a protector. A defender. Saved countless women.

 

A twist of fate puts a woman from my past directly in my path. When I discover she's in danger, I'll destroy anyone in order to save her, too.

• Language: English
• Publisher: LK Shaw
• Release date: Jan 25, 2022
• ISBN: 9798215508237

LK Shaw

LK Shaw is the bestselling author of sexy, sinful suspense. She resides in South Carolina with her high maintenance beagle mix dog, Miss P. An avid reader since childhood, she became hooked on historical romance novels in high school. She now reads, and loves, all romance sub-genres, with dark romance and romantic suspense being her favorite. LK enjoys traveling and chocolate. Her books feature hot alpha heroes and the strong women they love. Want a FREE short story? Be sure to sign up for her newsletter and download your copy of A Birthday Spanking, a short story set in the Doms of Club Eden world! http://bit.ly/LKShawNewsletter

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

Aurora

---

I’m surrounded by hundreds of happy people and yet I’ve never been more miserable. Or more alone. The sun shines down from the most beautiful blue sky. All around me, fragrant flowers of almost every color imaginable brighten the massive garden where the wedding guests laugh and conversation flows. It’s a perfect day for the perfect couple. Envy rears its ugly head. 

I’ve tried so hard to not be bitter, but it weaves its tentacles through all the nooks and crannies of my heart. With it comes more unpleasant emotions. All of them suffocating me. If I can just get away—even for only a few moments—maybe I can breathe easier. 

I peek out from behind my hiding place. The large gazebo has proven to be the perfect refuge to escape the two men I’m avoiding. My eyes do a quick scan of the yard and the faces that occupy it. None of them stand out. No one is casting their glance around as though looking for someone. For me. They’re all engaged in their own worlds. Talking amongst themselves and admiring the newlyweds dancing under the giant white tent.    

Another glance around the corner confirms the coast is clear. I pick up my dress-skirt, dart across the bright green, perfectly manicured lawn, and slip into the open door of the manor house. The scent of garlic, rosemary, and chocolate assaults me. Pots and pans bang together from the kitchen staff preparing the food for the reception. 

A white-coat wearing chef shouts orders over his shoulder before using the other one to wipe the sweat off his forehead. It’s sweltering in here from the heat of open flamed stove-tops. All the cooks are busy at their stations, stirring and flipping, that no one pays attention to me. I make a quick escape farther away from the garden and into the interior of the manor house. 

I vaguely recall being here once or twice before and wishing I could explore the place. I’d been told that various rooms are filled with antique furniture. My mother loved antiques and used to take me window-shopping at some of her favorite shops.

I follow the hallway out into the main foyer. It’s as though the caretakers wanted to bring some of the garden inside. Marble side tables are covered with pots and vases of blooming flowers. The scent of roses and gardenias fill the air. The sun shines through the large windows at the top of the stairs and sparkles off the crystals in the hanging chandelier. It’s created mini rainbows along the bannisters of the twin winding staircases that lead up to the second-floor landing. 

I’m transfixed by the vibrant colors and head up the steps with my fingers gliding along the lines of each one. At the top, I glance down into the garden and at the families milling about. Wanting to avoid detection if someone were to look up, I quickly dash down the hall, passing several doors. 

I don’t stop until I reach the open one at the far end. Inside, the breeze from the open French doors causes the draped white sheets to flutter. I move from piece to piece, lifting the coverings and admiring the aged, but beautiful, wood and fabric of couches, chairs, and wardrobes. Beneath my breath, I hum my mother’s favorite song. 

The sound of splashing water drifts through the open balcony door. I step outside, still humming and feeling more free of the chains that will soon bind me. The giant stone fountain shoots water toward the sky before it falls and crashes into the rippling pool below it. I admire it briefly, until noisy footsteps come from behind me. So much for being free. I should have known my father wouldn’t let me have any peace. Why can’t you just let me have a few minutes to myself? 

My apologies, an unfamiliar male answers from much closer than I expect.

Startled, I whirl to face him with my hand over my beating heart, trying to calm the racing thing. My mouth falls at the stunningly beautiful stranger standing there. The organ in my chest races for an entirely different reason. Who are you? Is that my breathless voice?

Jack Donnelly. He bows as though we’re at a fancy ball and he’s about to request a dance.  

I wait for more, but he’s said his name as though I should know who he is. 

Confusion dashes across his face, but quickly disappears. Brenna’s brother. 

Oh my gosh. I can’t mask my shock. My cheeks heat in embarrassment for not recognizing the name. Mrs. Ricci. 

His charming grin makes my breath catch. The one and only. And you are? 

I bite my lip to hold back my automatic response. I hate looking dumb and even though he didn’t do it on purpose, I feel stupid that I didn’t know who he was. Which irritates me. I’d rather not say. 

Jack’s grin widens and turns a bit more…just, more. A lady of mystery. Intriguing. Maybe I should try and guess. 

My annoyance only grows. I won’t tell you. 

Well, if you won’t tell me, then I suppose I’ll just have to make one up. He remains undeterred. How about Aisling? 

Despite my irritation, he has me curious. It’s a pretty name. Something no one has ever accused me of being. Why Aisling? I could kick myself for asking. 

Because it means dream. And I’m sure I’ll be dreaming of you tonight. 

My nose wrinkles in disbelief. Briefly, Jack had had my interest. I doubt that. You don’t even know me. 

I’d like to, he says.

I roll my eyes at the far too obvious pick up line. I’m actually disappointed, although I can’t put my finger on why. No you don’t. Not really. Which makes me sad. I hate that it does so I force it away and try for dismissiveness, as though I’m not bothered by the fact. No one has any interest in knowing me. 

Jack’s expression shifts from charming to contemplative. Like he’s trying to figure me out. Good luck with that. Other than Lucia, not a single person has ever been interested in getting to know me as a person. It’s always been about what I can bring to the relationship. Whether it’s as a wife to take care of the man’s home and children or the familial connection to Mr. Ricci and the syndicate. It’s never been about me—Aurora—the person.

Well, I’d love to get to know you, Jack says flirtatiously. 

I blink away the loneliness. What had he said? Oh, right. My gaze takes him in again. The russet-colored hair brought out by the sun shining down on it. His sky-blue eyes sparkle with interest, which does surprise me a bit. I can’t remember the last time a man paid this close attention to me. He doesn’t mean it, but it’s nice to pretend otherwise. 

Are you up here trying to escape someone? he asks. 

I have to give him credit for how hard he’s trying, but the question is a reminder of why I’m up here and not back down in the garden. My shoulders drop in defeat, and I turn to gaze out over the sprawling lawn again. My father. I intentionally leave out the rest, because I don’t want to have to answer any questions. 

Jack moves to stand next to me. Not really close enough to touch, but certainly close enough to make me aware of his presence. I should step away. Being up here alone with him is dangerous. I can’t bring myself to leave, though. Not yet. Instead, I’ll enjoy the brief attention of a beautiful man whose weary eyes tell a far different story than the smooth words that flow from his mouth. 

There’s a comfortable silence between us. We’re just two people keeping each other company. It’s nice. I only wish it could last.  

I’m escaping my mother. He sounds so forlorn. It’s almost amusing. Except it reminds me why I’m up here. 

Is she trying to marry you off, too? The second the question leaves my lips, I curse at myself. Why did you have to ask that?

Not yet. Is that why you’re hiding from your father? 

I nod. 

You women have it rough, don’t you? Having to wed a stranger you know nothing about? I don’t envy you. Although, look at Brenna and Emilio. Their marriage turned out all right. 

Mr. Ricci isn’t old enough to be her grandfather, I say bitterly.

Jack doesn’t say anything to that. In fact, the silence lengthens and I’m compelled to turn and face him. To my surprise, he closes the distance between us. The heat pours off him. Unprepared, I gasp, and take a step back. What are you doing? 

My heart skips a giddy beat. He comes close again. So much so that his muscular chest brushes against my sensitive breasts. They pebble beneath my dress like they’re begging for his touch. There are flecks of gray in Jack’s blue eyes. A silly thing to note when I can barely catch my breath from being this near to him.

Before I can guess his intent, he bends down and kisses me. I freeze at the contact, but the taste of him makes me melt. My body goes languid against his, and I sink into him. Afraid of my knees giving out, I loop my arms around his neck. Anything to ground me against floating away from pleasure.

Jack’s tongue coaxes my lips open. I part them with a breathy sigh, desperate for more. My first real kiss. The boyish pecks given to me can’t compare to this. Except this, whatever it is, is…impossible. I push myself away, but his hand has already snagged my waist. He drags me against his hard body. A slip of paper wouldn’t fit between us, we’re so close. God, I’ve never tasted something so good as Jack’s mouth. I can’t do this, though. 

For a second time, I try to separate us, but his hold is tight. He’s as lost to the sensations as I’d be if a warning bell weren’t clanging inside my head. I have to get out of here before someone sees. With no other choice, I sharply raise my knee, hitting him right where it will hurt the most. Jack’s arms loosen, and he nearly shoves me away. 

His upper body collapses onto his lower, and he cradles himself. He moans. Oh, crap. 

Why’d you have to kiss me? I rasp out. Angry at both of us for showing me what could have been, but will never be, I storm off, leaving him to his pain. 

Jack ruined everything. There was possibility in that kiss. Why? I rush down the hallway, then the stairs, and back into the garden. All I want to do is get lost in the crowd. I never get what I want though, because I barely make it back to the gazebo to hide from everyone when my name is spoken in that tone. My steps slow and then come to a stop. I turn to face my father. 

Where have you been? I’ve been looking all over for you. Alessandro grew impatient and left. It was rude of you to disappear, he scolds. 

As if I care. It grew too warm out here, and I felt dizzy so I went inside to try and cool off.

My father studies the innocently painted expression on my face. He doesn’t comment, but it’s clear he doesn’t believe me. We both know that I had been avoiding him. 

Next time tell me where you are going before you run off, he huffs. I’m ready to go now. Say goodbye to Lucia so we can leave. 

Yes, sir. I’m battling against the hope that we depart before Jack can find me and that I get to see him one more time. I should probably apologize. Instead, I go searching for my best friend. Although, it doesn’t take me long to find her, since the first place I head is toward the dance floor. 

Sure enough, she’s plastered against a man. They each have their face buried in the other’s neck. I clear my throat. Lucia raises her head and smiles at me. She turns back to her dance partner and pats his cheek. He’s adorably baby-faced. His bright blue eyes and reddish-brown hair definitely mark him as not Italian. One of the Irish, then? 

Thank you for the dance, love, but my gorgeous best friend here has decided to cut in, she tells him.

He barely casts a glance in my direction. His gaze, which is far more heated than I’d expect from someone his age, sears into Lucia. The seductive grin he sends her even makes me want to fan myself. It was entirely my pleasure, he says in a low-throated purr as he slowly releases his hold on her. 

His hand drifts off her waist and down her hip like he’s reluctant to stop touching her. I hold my breath as he takes a step, then another, away. His eyes never leave hers until he winks and then, at last, turns his back to her and walks away. Lucia and I watch him go and let out a collective sigh. 

She swivels to me with a wide-eyed stare and drags me off the dance floor toward the back of the tent. Holy shit. Is it just me or did it get twenty degrees hotter just a minute ago? 

He definitely seemed into you. Jack’s blue eyes come to mind and the heated way he’d stared at me. A shiver skates across my neck. 

No. Wait, do you think so? Lucia shakes her head. Never mind. It doesn’t matter. He’s probably ten years younger than me, and I’m leaving the country in two days. I don’t have time for some fling. Anyway, I’m glad you’re here. 

Actually, that’s what I came to find you for. Papa is ready to go. I just came to say goodbye. Now that the word is out, tears well. 

Damn it, don’t start. You’re going to make me cry and we both know how red and splotchy my face gets when that happens, she chokes out, her voice gravelly with the unshed tears she just said she doesn’t want to shed.

I know, but I’m going to miss you. Why do you have to move so far away? I whine, fanning my face to dry my eyes. Lucia opens her mouth, but I stop her. I know. I know. Because you have an amazing opportunity to do what you love. 

You can always come visit me. Any time. We both know that isn’t going to happen. Not with the plan my father has for me. 

I’ll try. We pull each other into a hug that doesn’t last nearly long enough. I’m the first to let go, because otherwise I might not ever. I’ll hold her until she changes her mind about leaving me. 

I love you, she cradles my cheeks and whispers. Whatever happens, I’m only a phone call away. 

I nod. Then, I’m walking out from under the tent to where my father waits. It’s not until I’m home and locked in the safety of my room that the sobs come. I pull my pillow tighter to my chest and bury my face in it. It’s soon soaked with my tears. I’ve never been more alone.

CHAPTER 2

Three years later

Jack

---

Fecking Polish, Padraig curses from his perch on one of the high back stools in front of the full bar as dark red blood runs down his bicep. 

Scattered across the gleaming wooden surface are bandages and various first aid kit supplies illuminated by every light in the area he’s dubbed our man cave. They shine down on him and the middle-aged, glasses-wearing man standing beside him, wiping away the fluid.  

It’s been three years of fighting, Paddy. Did you really think they were going to just give up that easily? I ask over my shoulder from the opposite side of the bar, tipping up the mouth of the bottle so I don’t spill a drop of my favorite Irish whiskey. 

Of course not, but I’m really fecking tired of getting shot.

Stop being such a pussy, Nathan snipes from the overstuffed sofa. He takes a sip of the drink he’d poured himself. 

Paddy sends him a rude gesture, hisses in pain, and curses again. The doctor doesn’t even pause in his ministrations. I finish filling my own rocks glass, glance over at the doc as he places the first stitch in the wound, and join Nathan. 

I collapse in an exhausted heap next to him—careful not to spill my drink—and tip my head back. My eyes close on a deep sigh. Tonight has been a rough one. We went on yet another raid in Polish territory, searching for the women they’ve trafficked, but the bastards had been waiting for us. We had a single casualty, and Paddy had been shot. Thankfully, it’s a superficial wound, but still, it makes me nervous they got so close. 

Has anyone talked to Da? I ask and raise my head for a long swallow. The fire of the whiskey burns my throat and settles with a warm heat in the pit of my stomach. 

Nathan nods solemnly. I called him on the way home. Gave him a status update. He’s going to notify Niall’s wife.

I’ve lost count of the number of my father’s—formerly my grandfather’s—men the Polish have killed since our war with them began three years ago. The only consolation is we’ve taken out just as many, if not more, of them. 

It’s moments like these—when I want to forget about the death and fighting—that the taste of buttercream frosting and the faint scent of lemons tease my memory. I clutch the glass tighter, my nails turning white from the pressure, and attempt to ignore the lingering sensation of soft curves beneath my fingertips. I force my grip to loosen. 

I do my best to push it all away. No matter how many attempts I make, I can never quite let go of the vision of her sad brown eyes. 

Son of a bitch. 

The bellowed curse brings me back to the present. 

Keep antibacterial ointment on the incision and make sure the bandage stays dry. I’ll leave you extras and be back in a week to remove the stitches, the doctor instructs as he packs up the remaining items and stows them in his black bag. He disposes of all the bloodied waste in a special red bag and leaves it on top of the bar. We know what to do with it. Nathan rises from his seat to escort the man to the front door.

Thank you, Dr. Byrne, I tell him before they walk out of the den. 

Paddy gets up off the stool, grabs the bag, and tosses it onto