King of the Cage: A Dark Irish Mafia Romance (Devil’s Own)
King of the Cage: Chapter 43

The Selkie’s Rest was bursting at the seams with O’Connor men and Elio and the De Sanctis mercenaries. Aoife was run off her feet seeing to everyone. She blushed and flirted and fixed her hair in the mirror. She seemed to have a soft spot for flirtatious Italians.

I sat in my usual booth in the back. Alice was in the hospital recovering from all the things that had been done to her. Doc was there, overseeing her care.

Bran stood at the bar with Declan and Mr. O’Connor, Sr.

He beckoned me over.

I was too exhausted to be nervous about finally meeting Bran’s father. I got up and went, folding my arms over my chest and summoning what was more a snarl than a smile. I wasn’t particularly excited to meet him. From everything I’d heard from Bran, he was a tough old bastard and not deserving of having Quinn and Bran as kids.

“You’re the wife, then,” he said shortly.

I nodded.

“Well? Cat got your tongue?” he asked.

“I know that you know my name, so I’m waiting for you to use it,” I replied starkly.

Declan flinched and coughed into his Guinness.

Time ticked by slowly, and then Colm O’Connor’s weathered face split into a grin.

“So, it’s like that, is it, Giada? Your brother informed me that he’s willing to whisper in Renato De Sanctis’ ear and make sure things are smooth on the Jersey side of the river, even if you never come back to live amongst us. That means you’re released from your marriage to my son… I give you permission to free yourself.”

I snorted, not about to play nice after the day I’d had. “You don’t give me permission to do anything.”

“Aye, only Bran can do that now,” Fergus teased from behind the bar.

I shot him a glare that earned me a chuckle.

“He can try,” I said, as sweetly as I could.

Bran’s father nodded slowly, his grin only spreading. “Aye, you’ll keep him on his toes.” He nodded again approvingly.

“Meaning?” I asked.

“Meaning, you’ll do, lassie. You’ll do nicely.”

Colm was wheeled out of there before long. Bran and Elio had been in deep in conversation at the end of the bar for an hour, when Elio stood and came over to me.

“I’m leaving, you okay here?” he asked.

I nodded and caught Bran’s eye. “Yeah, I’m good. I’m home.”

My brother’s stoic face split into a wide, seldom-seen grin. “I’m happy to hear it. Don’t forget Sunday lunch at Casa Nera. It’s a family affair. Make sure your new husband is also present. Sofia and Nikolai are coming home to visit.”

I raised an eyebrow at him. “Wow, what do you get if you put yourself, Renato De Sanctis, Bran O’Connor, and Nikolai Chernov in a room together?”

“Absolute carnage,” Elio announced as Bran wrapped an arm around him from behind.

“A fucking great time,” Bran said at the same time as Elio spoke.

Elio glanced at my husband and raised an elegant black eyebrow. “Let’s see on Sunday.”

“Looking forward to it, brother-in-law,” Bran said and slapped Elio on the shoulder in an entirely too familiar way that I knew Elio would hate.

Surprisingly, he leaned in and kissed me goodbye and left. Maybe Santoris had a natural-born weakness for the cocky, irreverent approach of O’Connor men?

“You know it’s dawn, right?” Bran asked. He sank into the booth beside me and pulled me close.

I nodded, my eyes heavy.

“You also know that there’s no way I’m falling asleep next to you, without being inside you?”

“What? Aren’t you tired?” I protested mildly, though, honestly, his words had me hot all over.

“Exhausted. That’s why I need to be home.” He wrapped his arms around me and kissed the top of my head. “Inside you.”

Bran remained true to his word and kept us both up another few hours after we got upstairs. I’d never been so tired, and yet, after only a few hours of sleep, I felt him move. He got up and walked around the bed. Then the door opened, and there was the hushed murmur of male voices.

“Shh, don’t wake her. We should have given her something to sleep.”

“Very funny. Suggest it again, and I’ll throw you out of the window.”

“You take her head.”

I sat up to find Declan, Bran, and Keiran standing around the bed. I clutched the sheet around me, thanking God I’d thrown on some pajamas earlier.

“What the hell is going on?” I demanded.

Bran opened his mouth to answer but clearly couldn’t think of an acceptable excuse, so he just shrugged.

Declan grinned. “Orgy?”

Bran stepped forward and pulled me into his arms. “Don’t ask any more questions that might get Dec killed.”

He strode out of the room. The daylight was bright, and the air was sharp. I protested against Bran’s chest, shoving at him.

“Where are we going?”

“Church,” he muttered shortly.

“Church? I hate to break it to you, but I’m not exactly a churchgoer,” I pointed out.

He nodded. “Me neither, but we have to get this fixed and then we’ll come home.”

He somehow managed to sit in the car and keep me on his lap.

“Get what fixed?”

“This divorce business. We need to get married again. I can’t not be married to you, selkie. I wouldn’t survive it.” His face was deadly serious.

“Bran.” I blew out an exasperated sigh. “We aren’t getting divorced. I never even signed the papers. I couldn’t.”

“You couldn’t?” Bran echoed. He stared hard at me, his face a mix of disbelief and joy.

I shook my head. “You can’t get rid of me that easily.”

“Thank fuck for that. You really didn’t sign them?” he asked again.

I cocked an eyebrow at him. “You think I’m going to let you tell me what to do? You can’t tell me what to do, Lost Boy… you’re not my boss.”

He laughed, throwing his head back, and I leaned in and licked his strong, tattooed neck. I couldn’t help it. It was so beautiful.

“No, I’m not… I am your husband, though, still, and always.”

I nodded and leaned in and kissed the side of his mouth. His boyishly happy smile made my cynical heart sing.

“Yes, you are,” I murmured.

He grinned. “My wee selkie wife.”

I nodded. “Yes.”

“My own,” he breathed, the slightest hint of a question.

“Always.”