Jaded Soul: A Standalone Irish Mafia Romance

by Fox, Nicole

  “Don’t be jealous,” I tell him.

  “Of what?”

  “The fact that I’m clearly the better-looking brother.”

  Kian snorts with laughter. “Yeah, okay, big bro. If you’re gonna drink that Kool-Aid, I can’t help you.”

  “You only just healed up. Don’t make me cripple your ass again.”

  “I’d like to see you try, old man.”

  I narrow my eyes at him. “If I weren’t getting married today, I would teach you a lesson in the laws of the universe. Older brothers are undefeated. So if you insist on fighting, the only possible winner is—”

  “Me.”

  Kian and I whirl around at the exact same time.

  The voice that just spoke so eerily familiar that it makes my heart thud unevenly against my chest.

  And the man standing at the door of the dressing room belongs with the dead.

  At first glance, he’s exactly the same as the day he left. It’s only after Sean has fully stepped into the light that I start to notice the differences.

  His features are still brooding. His coloring still dark and hooded.

  But there’s a certain lightness about him as he walks into the room.

  “Jesus,” I breathe. “Sean O’Sullivan, as I live and breathe.”

  “Who else, little brother?” he asks, a smile playing across his lips.

  He’s clean-shaven and the wealth of unruly dark hair he used to have is gone now. He’s shaved it all close to the scalp. It suits him.

  I haven’t been called “little brother” in so fucking long. Hearing him say it makes me realize just how much I’ve missed him.

  He walks right up to me and puts his hands on my shoulders. “You gonna say something?” he asks. “Or do you prefer standing there with your mouth hanging open?”

  “How… I… What the fuck?” I manage to force out.

  I’m completely lost for words.

  Kian’s chuckle is the sound that breaks me out of my trance.

  I glare at him. “Did you have something to do with this?”

  Kian shrugs. “Consider it a wedding present,” he replies. “I’ve spent months trying to locate Sean. And then… I finally managed it. With a little help.”

  I glance between the two of them. “You’re really here,” I say again. “You’re really fucking here.”

  “I’m really here.”

  He pulls me to him in a bear hug and I grab hold of the big brother I thought I’d never see again.

  The moment feels surreal. I never thought we’d be reunited. And certainly not this way.

  The fact that it’s my wedding day only makes it more special.

  When we finally break apart, I shake off the shock. “Do Ma and Da know you’re here?” I ask.

  “Of course,” Sean replies. “I just spoke to both of them before coming up here.”

  “And? How’d that go?”

  Sean’s smile is tight, but not fake. “It went… Well, better than I expected. In many ways, Da’s still the same unbending son of a bitch he always was. But in other smaller, more subtle, practically unnoticeable ways, he’s changed, too.”

  “I’ll take credit for that,” I say immediately, throwing Kian a self-satisfied smirk that I know will annoy him.

  “Asshole,” Kian retorts, but he can’t quite hide his smile.

  He steps forward. The three of us stand together in a loose semi-circle. It’s a sobering moment.

  And the only one missing is—

  “I wish Aoife was here,” Sean says. It’s what I was thinking, too.

  Kian sighs. “I wish I’d met her.”

  I put a hand on his shoulder. “We should have talked about her more. That’s on us. That’s going to change, though. This family has spent too fucking long in the shadows. Time to bring some light in.”

  Kian smiles gratefully. Then we both turn to Sean.

  “So, what have you been up to the last, y’know… fourteen years?” I ask casually.

  He laughs. Then takes a deep breath.

  “Let’s just say… it’s a long story,” he replies. “And I will share it with both of you. Just not today. Today is all about you.”

  “As it should be. As every day should be, really.”

  They both roll their eyes, but before long, we’re all laughing again.

  “I can’t wait for you to meet Saoirse,” I tell him. “I can’t wait for her to meet you.”

  “She’s amazing,” Kian says with complete sincerity. The two of them have become fast friends in the last several months. I might be jealous if I didn’t love them both so fucking much.

  “I mean, she’s way out of Cillian’s league,” Kian continues. “I honestly don’t know why she’s with him.”

  I slug him in the arm. “Well, she wanted the hottest, smartest O’Sullivan brother,” I say, gesturing to myself. “The choice was obvious.”

  “Yeah, sure,” Kian says with a snide smile. “But only because Sean had already left the country and I was ten when you made your move.”

  I narrow my eyes at him and he and Sean burst out laughing.

  It’s amazing to have this. What’s even more amazing is how natural it feels, despite the fact that we’ve never experienced this before.

  It’s been fourteen fucking years.

  We were kids when we parted ways.

  We’re men now.

  But it feels like we’ve slipped into a relationship that has always existed.

  “So,” I say, gripping Sean by the shoulder. Maybe I just want an excuse to touch him. To prove to myself that he’s real. “Are you here alone?”

  Sean gives us both a smile that transforms his face. “Actually… no.”

  Kian and I exchange a glance.

  “Well, doesn’t that smile speak volumes?”

  Sean laughs. “You’ll meet her at the ceremony. She’s downstairs right now with Ma.”

  “Are you gonna tell us how you two met?” I ask.

  “I think I’m going to wait until you meet her first,” Sean says evasively. “Like I said, this day is about you and Saoirse.”

  Before I can respond and tell him what an annoying prick he’s being, the door opens.

  All three of us look up as Da walks in.

  The three of us pivot to face him as he pauses a step inside the doorway. His light eyes glide over all three of us with something almost passing for affection.

  “I never thought I’d see all three of my sons standing together in the same room again,” he says, breaking the silence.

  There’s definitely still some lingering tension—each of us has our own fraught relationship with the man—but it doesn’t burn the air between us the way I might’ve expected.

  Da stares at each of us in turn, long and hard.

  He offers Kian his hand first. The two of them shake solemnly without a word spoken.

  I’m next. I meet my father in the eye and shake his hand. Man to man. O’Sullivan to O’Sullivan. Father to son.

  Last, he turns and offers his hand to Sean. The gesture may look formal, but I understand the significance of it. We all do.

  An open palm, offered in peace. A truce after fourteen years of being at silent, estranged warfare with one another.

  And for once, I don’t make a joke. I let the serious moment stand.

  Sometimes, that’s the right choice.

  “And on that note, I should tell you all that I have decided to retire.”

  Say what you will about the man, but I’ve never thought he had much in the way of comedic timing. Can’t deny it to him now, though—that’s fucking hilarious delivery.

  I raise my eyebrows in shock. So does Kian. The only one who doesn’t look remotely surprised is Sean.

  “Retiring?” I gape at Da. “But why?”

  “I’m going to be sixty-seven soon,” he explains simply. “It’s time I pass the baton, Cillian.”

  I nod numbly, waiting for him to tell me that I need to do my best to be there for Kia
n.

  “It won’t always be easy. But I know you can do it.”

  It takes me a moment to process his words. “I… you want… you’re passing the baton to me?”

  I turn to Kian immediately. It should be him, shouldn’t it?

  “You’re surprised?” Kian asks, rolling his eyes. “So much false modesty.”

  I’m shaking my head. “No, you’ve got it all twisted. Kian should be—”

  “Sean never wanted to be don,” Da says. “And Kian doesn’t, either. But you do.”

  I’m lost for words.

  “Finally, someone’s managed to shut you up,” Sean laughs. “Definitely an auspicious day.”

  I throw him a glare, but my expression irons out into seriousness. “Da, you can’t be serious?”

  “I am,” he says. “This is right.”

  And that’s that.

  I swallow the lump in my throat and steel myself against the challenges of my future. I’ve got big fucking shoes to fill, but I know I can do it.

  I won’t be alone.

  I have Da and Ma.

  I have Kian.

  Hell, I even have Sean again.

  But most importantly, I have Saoirse.

  Da stops at the threshold on his way out and glances back over his shoulder.

  “You should know that I’m removing the fenced garden out back,” he tells us. “It serves no purpose anymore.”

  I smile as Da walks out of the room.

  “Fuck,” Kian laughs.

  Sean frowns. “What was that?”

  Kian and I exchange a glance. I, for one, am glad that Sean will never see the headstones with our names on it. I’ll probably have to explain it to him at some point. But for now, it’s only important for him to know one thing.

  “I think that was an apology,” I tell him. “I’ll explain later. But right now, I need to go get married.”

  Right on cue, the door opens and Artem sticks his head in.

  “Are you three done with your makeup?” he says impatiently. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

  Grinning like a fucking idiot, I leave my room and head downstairs. Artem falls into step beside me. Technically, he’s the officially-designated best man, even though it feels like I really have three of them today.

  Quinn comes slinking up as we pass through the house. He’s got something in his hands. “For you, sir,” he says simply.

  “Pretty sure gifts are supposed to wait until after the ceremony,” I drawl.

  “This one was earmarked for early delivery, sir.”

  I frown. “Who’s it from?”

  In reply, he just hands it to me and walks away.

  I set the bulky item down and tear away the brown paper wrapping. Inside is a wreath of stunning flowers.

  But it looks different than any of the bouquets I’ve seen yet today. Oddly foreign. Almost like it’s from…

  “Those motherfuckers…” I laugh under my breath. My hands are shaking a little as I open the card that came with the wreath.

  Poncho!!! it reads. A little birdie told us you were getting married today. I’m sorry we can’t be there, but I wanted to send you a gift. Papa says hello. So does Gaspar, even though he’s getting kinda old and fat and lazy. He misses you. We all do. I hope you did whatever you had to do up in Ireland so you can come see us sometime soon. There’s a roast chicken with your name on it if you do (and also the roof needs fixing, so if you could hurry, that would be great!)

  Te quiero mucho (that means I love you very much),

  Carla Amengual de la Cavallería Hernandez

  I set the card down with a goofy smile stretching from ear to ear. “Culín,” I whisper under my breath. “Te quiero mucho, too.”

  I have a feeling she’ll get the message.

  “We really gotta go now,” Artem says from my shoulder. “You can’t be late to your own wedding. Saoirse will murder you.”

  I shudder and tuck Carlita’s card inside my jacket. “God forbid. That woman is terrifying.”

  * * *

  Saoirse is the one who insisted we get married in the O’Sullivan Manor. As always, her choice was right.

  Artem and I make our way to the lower garden that overlooks the lake. There’s a giant canopy arch rippling with flowers.

  It’s the perfect setting. I feel excitement rush through my body.

  This is why I came back to Ireland.

  I came back for the happy ending I’d left behind.

  The guests murmur as I walk past them. A few say hi and others rise to shake my hand.

  Padraig’s seat is in the front row, next to Ma and Da, though it’s empty while he waits for Saoirse in the back. Thankfully, Ma will be situated between the two men, the natural buffer to a relationship that is strained but civil.

  Sean slips into a seat in the row just behind them, next to a beautiful woman with blue-black hair and shimmering, light-green eyes.

  Artem gives his wife a kiss before he joins me under the arch, taking up his position on my left-hand side. Esme clutches little Phoenix’s hand and waves excitedly at me.

  “Doesn’t Uncle Cillian look handsome?” she coos, throwing me a wink.

  Artem snorts. “Not nearly as handsome as Daddy, right?”

  The little boy, who’s just grown out of the drunk walk that precedes confidence, has his father’s dark coloring and heavy features. But he has his mother’s smile and her cheeriness.

  Seeing the three of them together makes me excited for the family Saoirse and I are going to build together.

  Speaking of Saoirse, I haven’t seen her in twenty-four fucking hours.

  Because it’s “bad luck” or some stupid shit like that, apparently. I tried to sneak into her room last night, only to find the door barred from me.

  “Go sleep, Cillian,” Saoirse had laughed from the other side. “You’ll see me tomorrow. I’ll be the girl in the big white dress.”

  It’s the longest I’ve gone without seeing her in over six months. It’s been fucking torture.

  The music starts playing and our small, intimate gathering of guests rise to their feet.

  I notice movement from the side entrance of the house, but I don’t look up until I sense her presence at the far end of the aisle.

  Only then do I look up.

  And when I do…

  She takes my breath away. Quite literally.

  It’s only when she starts walking down the aisle, clutching her father’s arm like she’s scared she’s going to fall over, that I realize I’m not actually breathing. I force myself to inhale before I pass out.

  The dress she’s wearing is simple. It’s an off-the-shoulder, silk-tuille gown in a rich white. The bodice is tight, fitted at the waist by a crystal belt, before flowing out into an A-line skirt that ripples at the slightest hint of movement.

  Her wild red hair dances around her bare shoulders, framing her face, which is thankfully veil-free.

  That was the only request I made of her. “I don’t want you to wear a veil.”

  “But why?” she’d asked.

  “Because I want to see your face clearly—from the moment you start the walk until the moment you reach me. I want to see your eyes.”

  She’d laughed and called me a big softie.

  But she’d agreed.

  Now, as it’s all happening—both exactly the same and wildly different than I ever imagined—she glances up, searching for me.

  Her eyes are rimmed with subtle, skin tone shades of coal and mascara. Her cheeks are blushed with pink coral and her lips are lathered with a neutral beige.

  Elegant, simple, exquisite.

  Just like she is.

  She smiles and my heart contracts tightly against the onslaught of happiness.

  I take a step towards her when she reaches the bottom of the steps. Padraig takes her hand and places it on mine. I give him a smile and pull Saoirse towards me.

  She laughs lightly as I curl my arm around her. I couldn’t possibly be less c
oncerned about the grumpy old priest harrumphing behind me.

  “Cillian,” she giggles with dancing eyes, “we have to say our vows first.”

  “I said my vows fourteen years ago when I first met you.”

  Then I lean down and kiss her possessively as the crowd erupts into applause. I don’t need a priest to proclaim us husband and wife.

  It’s true enough already. It has been for a while now.

  I love Saoirse. And Saoirse loves me.

  I don’t have to hear her say a damn word to know that’s true. All I have to do is look at her.

  It’s in the eyes.

  Extended Epilogue

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  Sneak Preview of GILDED CAGE

  Book One of the Kovalyov Bratva Duet

  I’LL LOCK HER IN A GILDED CAGE AND THROW AWAY THE KEY.

  The night we met, she thought she was tasting freedom.

  I devoured her once and left before I even knew her name.

  Four months later, Bratva business leads me to the house of my enemy with one objective:

  Burn it down and kill everyone inside.

  That’s exactly what I plan to do…

  Until I find her cowering before me.

  The innocent girl from the club.

  My beautiful caged bird.

  I’m not here to save her—I’m here to ruin her.

  But something stops me in my tracks.

  Something I never expected.

  Did she say that’s my baby in her womb?

  Esme

  A SECRET LOCATION ON THE PACIFIC COAST OF MEXICO

  I look around at my bedroom and fight the urge to scream.

  It’s beautiful by any measure. The finest furniture. The most expensive art.

  But I see it for what it really is: a gilded fucking cage.

  My eyes settle on the picture board I set up when I was fifteen years old. I still remember the first thing I stuck up there—a glossy postcard of Florence, Italy.