King of the Cage: A Dark Irish Mafia Romance (Devil’s Own)

Bran was in the hospital for nearly a week. I stayed in his studio above the pub and went to The Selkie’s Rest every night to eat.

I tried to sit alone in the apartment the first night, but a procession of people had tromped upstairs to ask me to come down. Finally, I’d given in, realizing that it was easier to show my face instead of having half of Hell’s Kitchen come check on me.

I was staying at Bran’s because it was closer to the hospital, and I went there every day. Or that was what I told myself, anyway.

Honestly, I didn’t know.

Something had happened to me. I wasn’t the same as I’d been the week before, and next week, I knew I might be different again. After a lifetime of being emotionally stunted, I was finally changing.

I didn’t hear from The Enclave beyond messages and flowers from Regina, which I scanned for listening devices and then chucked out. Apparently, they understood that when you lashed someone’s back until it opened, they needed time to heal and not just physically. They probably had plenty of experience with this kind of thing.

The day Bran came home, the studio was filled to the brim with O’Connors. It was a lot. Thankfully, as an Italian, I was pretty accustomed to family having loud conversations that sounded more like arguments.

Keiran and Declan brought him back from the hospital, and I waited at the apartment with Quinn and Aoife.

He walked in stiffly, leaning on a crutch, and glanced around. His eyes found mine, and his shoulders dropped their tension, and he grinned.

“I told you she was still here,” Doc muttered, clearly having had more than his fill of his argumentative patient.

Bran’s family fussed around him and fed him, and the studio was full of chatter and laughter.

I was part of it, while also being very aware that I hadn’t really been alone with Bran since all of this had happened.

Since I’d decided to stay.

After dinner, Bran yawned widely, slapped the table for attention, and calmly announced, “Thank you all for coming, but if you could all kindly fuck off, I’d like to be alone with my wife.”

All eyes turned to me.

“Don’t look at me, I’m perfectly happy entertaining for hours,” I protested, my face burning. How was I blushing like a schoolgirl at the thought of being alone with this man? So much had happened, so quickly, that Bran being in the hospital had put the brakes on the rollercoaster of the past few weeks. Now, my head had had time to catch up with the rest of me. I was nervous.

“Did you hear that, champ? Your wife’s not satisfied with your performance,” Declan began.

Laughter rang out around the table, until Aoife stood.

“Brandon’s right. It’s time to go and leave these two alone. Come on now,” she said in a tone that sent both Doc and Declan to their feet.

Bran remained seated and waved to the rest of his family as they filed out the door. He wasn’t moving that easily yet, and it tired him out. I wasn’t even sure he could walk without the crutch. It felt wrong to see someone so vital and strong so badly hurt.

I closed the door behind them and tried to steady my pounding heart.

My mouth was dry, and my palms were damp when I spun around. Bran hadn’t moved. He sat at the table, watching me.

“Are you tired?” I asked.

Bran shook his head slowly.

“In pain?”

Another headshake.

I huffed at his difficultness. “Don’t tell me you’re still hungry?”

His eyes darkened, and he nodded. “Fucking famished.”

“I don’t think we have anything else to eat,” I muttered, avoiding his dark gaze.

“I can think of something.”

“Bran…” I blew out a breath, exasperated and turned on, honestly. I faced the door and fastened the deadbolt. Compared to Casa Nera, his house had little to no security for a Mafia heir, apart from his nifty little escape route behind the bookcase. Maybe he’d never needed more than that. He was the weapon. I wondered how he’d feel about security now? Had this shaken him? My mind raced, latching onto tangents.

Why was I so nervous?

“You need to rest. You’re not meant to exert yourself too much,” I lectured, reaching for safer ground. I swiveled away from the door and gasped.

He was right there in front of me. I hadn’t even heard him move. He towered over me, his hands coming to rest on either side of me.

“Then I guess I better just lie down…”

I tilted my head back to gaze up at him. “Yes, you should, and that’s all you should do.”

His lips quirked. “Fine. I’ll need a hand over there.”

I raised an eyebrow at him. “Yet you made it over here to corner me just fine.”

“I was motivated. You, my wee selkie, have been staying out of arm’s reach.”

I slid my shoulder beneath his arm and directed him toward the huge bed dominating the room.

“Because I can tell you’re going to try and ignore Doc’s rules.”

“From the rule-breaker herself, that’s rich,” Bran muttered.

We made it to the bed, and I lowered him carefully. He fell slowly backward and dragged me with him.

“Bran! This is what I was talking about,” I tutted.

He was on his back, and I was straddling him. I panicked, thinking about the pressure on his back.

“Get off your back!”

He stared up at me, his hands on my waist.

“Yeah?” he murmured.

With a burst of strength he twisted, using his hips to throw me, and spun us around. I landed on the bed, and Bran was above me, pinning me down. He nudged his hips against me, rubbing his hard-on right on my pussy. I had a skirt and panties on, and he was wearing soft pants — only a few layers of material between us, but suddenly, they felt like too much.

I raised my hips to meet his thrusts, immediately turned on by the blunt pressure on my clit. Fuck, I’d missed this man and his touch. In the hospital, something had changed between us. I’d been scared. Scared to lose him. He was infuriating, and cocky, and hardly ever seemed to take things seriously, and yet, he had become important to me. It had been a long time since someone had become important to me.

It had been a long time since someone bled for me.

It had been the first time, actually.

“Fuck, I’ll give you wine and roses and whatever you want if I can just be inside you right fucking now,” he said.

He held himself over me, looking down with a hunger that stole my breath. No, not my breath.

My heart.

Instead of answering, I reached between us and tugged the waistband of his pants low enough for his hard cock to pop out, red-tipped and dripping with precum. I wanted it inside me. I wanted to be pinned down by this man’s weight and impaled by his cock. I used my other hand to move my panties aside and guided his tip to my entrance.

Bran let out a halting breath and sank inside.

“Fuck, here’s the real homecoming, selkie,” he murmured, sliding all the way in and then pulling slightly back, only to press back inside. “Your home might be the sea, but this, right here inside you, is mine.”

I cried out as he fucked me, cupping his face since I didn’t want to hurt his back. I hooked my legs around his hips and held him as close to me as I could. It felt like a compulsion, to be joined to him, to be enveloped by him, to receive him.

I had to be crazy, because for the first time since I was seven years old, I wasn’t scared to be possessed by someone else. To be controlled and powerless. I wasn’t afraid.

I felt safe.

The next morning, I slipped out while Bran slept and took a cab to my apartment. I needed to pack some more clothes, grab my mail, and be reunited with my laptop. I couldn’t take one more second with Bran’s ancient laptop; I’d die.

I made myself a triple espresso, since Aoife had made it her personal mission to ensure I never had caffeine within a ten-mile radius of The Selkie’s Rest.

I stirred an ungodly amount of sugar into the coffee and sat at my laptop. My phone rang while I checked on De Sanctis family business. I’d admit I’d been slacking the last week. Bran being in the hospital had completely thrown me off my game.

“Okay, I know I’m so much less interesting than a hot Irishman, but I miss you! When are we hanging out?” Sol.

I’d only spoken to her on the phone a couple of times in the last week.

“I’m sorry, I’m terrible. Why don’t you come over to The Selkie’s Rest later and we can hang out?”

“Pass. I can’t show my face again after that hot Irish doctor saw me all messed up.”

“He’s a doctor; he doesn’t judge,” I told her.

“Right, like any doctor could be so young, hot, and dangerous-looking. Everyone knows doctors should be kindly old men with age-spotted hands and wispy hair.”

“I’ll pass that on to Keiran. He loves constructive feedback on his bedside manner.”

“Anyway, I guess I’ll have to survive without you a little longer. Are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m good,” I said quickly, without even thinking about it.

Sol was quiet for a long moment. When she spoke, she sounded satisfied. “You are, aren’t you? You’re really good. You sound it. You sound… happy.”

“You said that like you’ve never heard me happy before,” I protested mildly.

Sol snorted. “Your words, not mine.”

“I’ve got to run right now. Let’s see each other soon, okay?”

I checked my monitoring systems for anything I needed to erase. The boss was literally in the honeymoon period with his new bride, so apart from a few hiccups, there weren’t any fires to put out.

My phone vibrated on my desk with another incoming call. Assuming it was Sol again, I put it to my ear without checking the display.

“What is it? I can’t play with you right now,” I teased by way of greeting.

“I-I’m sorry, is this a bad time?” Regina Calloway’s voice hit my ear.

I spun away from my laptop and stared out of the window, gripping the phone tightly.

“No, it’s good. It’s fine. How can I help you?”

Regina sighed. “I wanted to check on Brandon again, now that he’s home. I’ve been so worried about him. Archibald’s methods can be draconian. I know he thinks he’s doing it for the greater good, to follow in his father and his grandfather’s footsteps, but I have to wonder why we can’t evolve with the times.”

“Yeah, public lashings are pretty last century. Bran is fine. He’s pretty tough.”

“Yes, he is, isn’t he. He’s an impressive man, but I suppose you know that, being his wife.”

I had no idea what to say to that, so I said nothing.

“Anyway, I was also calling because… I’ve not been able to sleep for thinking about how the group has treated you since you joined. You must think the worst of us. I wanted to tell you that you can trust me, even if you don’t trust anyone else. I wasn’t always part of The Enclave. I barely feel part of it now. I used to have another life, a career. A place in the world that wasn’t in the shadows. I’m not your enemy, Giada.”

I swallowed hard. I felt for Regina. I couldn’t imagine marrying a man like Archibald and finding out what depraved shit he was into after the wedding.

“You can trust me, Giada. Let me prove it to you. Ask me anything and I’ll answer, as honestly as I can.”

“Really? ‘As honestly as I can’ could be interpreted a lot of ways,” I mused. I didn’t know what Regina’s angle was here, but there was the slightest possibility that she was being sincere. I had to find out.

“There was a Jane Doe found in Central Park a few years ago, and she had a brand on her wrist. It was The Enclave logo. Can you tell me anything about that?”

Regina was quiet, then said, “I don’t know who you mean, but I’m sure it can’t be related. I know The Enclave seems old-fashioned, but it’s just an investment group at the end of the day.”

I snorted. “An investment group that flogs people and gives them polygraphs to join?”

Regina was quiet, and a deep voice sounded in the background.

“I-I have to go,” she said quickly, fear in her voice.

“What’s wrong? Is it Archibald?”

“I’m sorry,” Regina said and hung up.

What the hell? Could I really be surprised if another woman associated with The Enclave was a victim? No, not at all.

I stood at the window and stared down. The experience with Bran had shaken me, more than him, it seemed. Regardless of what he’d told me, I still felt guilty at what had happened to him. I was less gung ho at the idea of rushing into Enclave business now. I had skin in the game. I didn’t want Bran to get hurt again.

A loud motorcycle pulled to a stop in front of the building, twenty floors below. I couldn’t make out much more than the general shape, but my tummy tightened as a message came in.

I’m here to take you home, selkie. Come on down, before I haul my injured ass up there.

With an alarmed cry, I set about packing my bag. What the hell Bran was doing riding his motorcycle the day after getting out of the hospital was anyone’s guess. The man didn’t listen. He thought he was impervious to harm.

I made it downstairs in record time. Bran sat astride his bike, gripping both helmets in his hands.

“You know Doc told you not to mess with your injuries so soon,” I accused as I strode toward him.

“And you know if you need to go somewhere, I take you.” His tone brooked no argument.

I rolled my eyes. “Cabs exist, you know that, right?” I tightened my backpack straps and narrowed my eyes at Bran when he held his hand out to take my bag.

“Don’t even think about it,” I warned him and straddled the bike behind him. I nudged him with my knees to get him to go.

He sat for a moment longer, before abandoning his seat and standing. He leaned a hip against the bike and slid a hand along my jaw, sinking his fingers into my hair. Then he gripped a handful, tilted my head back, and kissed me. An all-out, end-of-the-world kind of kiss. I clung to him, struggling to keep up with the demand of his powerful lips moving over mine. Someone whistled in the background. A couple of cars honked when they passed.

“Don’t worry about them, I’ll kill them later,” Bran murmured against my lips, finally pulling back when I was weak-kneed and gasping for breath.

My heart felt like it might pound right out of my chest. I had no control over my body at this point, around this man, and I’d always been terrified of that feeling. In reality, it was nothing like I’d thought it would be.

In my daze, I felt him slide my backpack off my shoulders.

“Let me take care of you for once, wife, like you’ve been taking care of me.” His deep voice vibrated through me. “I know you’re capable. But helping you is my privilege. Indulge me.”

He cupped my face and kissed me again.

And I fell.

Feeling guilty for being a crappy friend, I let Marco and Sol convince me to go out later that night.

“And you’re sure I can’t come?” Bran mused, lounging on the bed, watching me get ready with hungry eyes.

“It’s a girls’ night,” I pointed out.

“I’ll be just like your wee buddy, Marco. I can be an honorary girl for the evening,” he protested.

I stepped over to him, my heels striking the floor hard.

“No, you can’t. One, you’re not well enough, two, just no. You rest here and get a good sleep.”

“Like I can sleep before you get home,” Bran murmured and pulled me in for a kiss, his hand on the back of my neck, imprisoning me for a long, hot moment.

“Don’t pout. If you pout, I won’t bring you a cookie when I get home.” I raised an eyebrow at him suggestively.

He growled. “But I want my cookie now.”

I sighed and kissed him on the nose. “I’m late. I’ll see you soon. I’m sure you’ll have your minions watching me regardless.”

“Too fucking right, and don’t lose them this time. They are there for your safety.”

“Who’s on duty?”

“Declan. I trust him with my life… so he’s nearly good enough to trust with yours, selkie.”

I nodded, checked my lipstick in the mirror, and blew him a kiss.

“See you… don’t wait up,” I tossed to him before closing the door.

His string of Gaelic curses followed me out, and I smiled.

Heading downstairs, I touched my face in wonder. My cheeks literally hurt lately, seldom-used muscles getting the workout of a lifetime. From smiling.

Declan waited at the bottom of the stairs and held the door open for me. “Where are we off to this evening?”

“The Moroni family compound,” I told him. I’d gotten dressed up more for the fun hobby of teasing my sexy-as-hell husband when I went out than needing to look nice wherever I was going.

“Good, nice and safe,” Declan said approvingly, escorting me out to a town car.

I got in, and we pulled out into the evening traffic.

As we wound our way through the city, an alert pinged on my cell. I’d set up something to monitor communications coming to and from the O’Connor men’s electronics. I opened the notification on my phone. Something inside the town car was broadcasting our location.

There was a tracker in the car.

“Declan! Someone’s following the car,” I started, just before Declan drew to a stop at a red light.

He twisted around to look at me. “What?”

“I think someone’s put a tracker on this car,” I said quickly. “What should we do?”

“Can you disable it?”

“Not without finding it first,” I rushed out, and that was as far as I got.

The door on the driver’s side rattled.

“Don’t worry — it’s locked,” Declan said.

The window exploded inward.

I screamed, fighting toward the front, trying to reach for the arms coming in.

The smell of burning filled the air, and a familiar electronic buzz, and Declan slumped to the side. Tasered.

The leather-gloved hands unlocked the car from the inside, and then, my door opened. I looked up at two men in balaclavas. Then the bite of the taser met my skin, and I was a goner.