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CHAPTER THREE

UNA

H e was there. As he always was, sitting in the dark in the back alcove, watching me. I sensed his presence even if I couldn’t see him. The same way I knew he was observing me at the front desk. I could feel his eyes on me. There were times when I was sitting by the waterfall, and I knew he had zoomed in on me with one of the security feeds. Or spotted me while walking through the lobby. He rarely stopped, and if he did, he was courteous, polite, and distant. The consummate boss.

Exactly what I requested of him, even if it made me sad.

Finn O’Reilly was everything I wanted in a man, except for one thing.

His ties to the underworld and the violent environment he chose to live in. I had been forced to live that way my entire life, hating every aspect of it. I swore once I was old enough, I would leave it behind me and find a regular life. One not filled with blood and fear.

And every day, I strove more and more toward that goal.

I finished my set, bowing to the applause. The green of my gown shimmered in the bright lights as I stepped from the small stage, heading toward the private room in the back. I planned to have something to eat, sip some tea and honey to soothe my throat, and rest until the next set at eleven.

It was the same every Friday and Saturday night. The moments I lived for. I loved to sing and had since I was a child. It was the one thing no one ever criticized me for.

I wasn’t the world’s best singer. I had no aspirations of a career in the music industry, but I loved the chance to lift my voice and make people smile. Here at O’Reilly’s, I was given that chance every week. They had other performers the rest of the time, but Friday and Saturday were mine.

A gift from Finn. One of the few I would accept since I knew how much he enjoyed my performances. I felt it was an equal partnership. He took what I could give, and I did the same by accepting the spots.

In my dressing room, I ran my fingers over the blossoms that waited. They arrived every Friday without fail. Without a card. But I knew who sent them and why. I felt the sadness seeping into my chest, and I shook my head to clear it of the morose thoughts.

I had made my choice.

A knock at the door startled me. Few people were able to get back this way. I had tried to mingle with patrons at first, but a few were too handsy. Too close. I learned quickly I needed to isolate myself to rest and to stay safe. I didn’t like being touched by strangers.

I stood, going to the door. “Hello?” I called.

“It’s me,” a voice said quietly, the low tone and Irish brogue instantly calming me yet causing my heart to race at the same time.

I opened the door. Finn stood on the other side, tall and broad, his hair glinting in the lights. He wore it tied back today, the waves still evident in the sweep of the knot.

I stepped back, silently bidding him to enter. He brushed past me, and I felt the heat of his body, his scent hitting me, masculine and enticing. I breathed him in deeply, shutting the door and giving myself a moment to school my features.

“Mr. O’Reilly.”

He clasped his hands behind his back. “Finn,” he replied with a frown, waiting.

“You’re my boss.”

“I’m also your friend. I am Finn to you when we’re alone.”

I hated the way his voice sounded as he said, “when we’re alone.” It was an unspoken promise that stirred memories I refused to think of. Instead, I cleared my throat.

“Is there an issue?”

“You looked tired. I wanted to check on you. Make sure you’re not overdoing it.”

I sat down at my makeup table, and he perched on the large chair in the corner. It wasn’t a big room, and it now seemed minuscule with him in it. His hands rested on his thighs and he looked casual, but his fingers were knotted in a fist, and I saw the tic of his jaw as he waited for my reply.

I waved off his concern. “I’m fine. It was a busy week at the desk. I was worried about Brian, so I didn’t sleep well. He didn’t come home for a few days, but he texted me earlier and said he was fine.” I shrugged. “I guess he was off doing whatever it is he does for you.”

I hated that he worked for Finn. That my brother was a part of that dark world I was trying to get away from. I couldn’t escape it yet, but soon, I would. I would leave it all behind me.

Finn shifted, looking uncomfortable. “First off, as much as I would like to point out your brother is a grown man and should be living on his own, not sponging off his younger sister, I will refrain.”

“Thank you for your restraint,” I murmured, trying to resist rolling my eyes. I knew Finn’s thoughts on Brian.

“Second, your brother was not working for me the nights he chose not to come home.” He took a deep breath. “I need to tell you something. Something you’re not going to like.”

“Is Brian okay? Is he?—”

Finn cut me off. “He’s fine. A little bruised. His ego wounded more than anything.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Your brother got himself into trouble. He gambled where he shouldn’t and racked up a bill he couldn’t pay.”

I felt the blood drain from my face. Finn leaned forward. “I paid the debt, Una. He owes me now, and he will work it off fairly. But I had to teach him a lesson.”

“You’re the one who bruised him?”

“Yes. I wanted to tell you before you saw him and he told you whatever bullshit story he made up about why.”

“You hurt him.”

“Not as badly as he would have been hurt by the man he owed money to. Money he didn’t have.” He sat back, serious and unrepentant. “I couldn’t let it go.”

“You mean you wouldn’t.”

“You know the message it would send out if I did, Una. I didn’t break anything. He’ll be sore for a few days, and he’ll remember what happens when you disregard the rules and run up bills you have no way of paying.”

“How much?”

“Pardon me?”

“How much is his debt?”

“I paid off thirty-five thousand.”

The sum shocked me. I knew Brian liked to bet on horses, play some cards, but thirty-five thousand dollars? I looked down at my hands that were now shaking, knowing what I had to do.

“I will pay you.”

“What?” Finn hissed.

I lifted my gaze to his. “I have twenty thousand saved. I will pay you. The rest you can dock my wages.”

He shook his head, leaning forward. “Over my dead body. This is not your debt to pay. Stop saving him, Una. He is not your responsibility.”

“He is. He is my brother.”

“Your older brother. It’s his job to care for you—to look after you—not the other way around.”

“I will pay his debt. I don’t want us owing you anything.”

He stood, fury dripping from his tone. “ You don’t owe me anything.”

I stood as well, suddenly weary. “You know, I tell myself that all the time. But it’s a lie. I owe you everything, don’t I? You gave me the job in every hotel you own so I could learn how to run my own place. You let me sing because it makes me happy. I know you helped with the apartment I found. The driver that you insisted all the late-night employees get, yet I seem to be the only one who has it. I owe you for all that. And now Brian owes you money.” I met his angry gaze. “I will pay that debt, Finn.”

“You know why I do all those things, Una. You owe me nothing.”

“I can’t give you what you want.”

“I know, mo chroí ,” he murmured sadly. “But it doesn’t change my feelings.”

“Please leave,” I whispered, my throat suddenly thick. It always affected me when he used that term. “I’ll get the money to you.”

“I will not accept it. This is Brian’s obligation. I only came to tell you so you knew the truth. I promised you the truth always.”

“I know.”

He stepped forward and wrapped me in his arms. For a moment, I allowed myself the indulgence of feeling his warmth. It was odd how safe I felt in the embrace of a ruthless crime lord. It was as if nothing could hurt me—which was so far from the truth it was laughable. Being anywhere near Finn O’Reilly’s orbit put me in danger. Even worse, it put him in danger as well.

Which was why I had to step back. Distance myself, even as I felt the physical pain of withdrawing from him.

“Please, Finn.”

“No. This is between Brian and me. Do not interfere, Una. Let him grow up and deal with the consequences of his actions.”

He stepped past me, stopping. For a moment, he said nothing, then he uttered my name. “Please, Una. I’m doing what is best.”

I looked up. “For whom?”

“Him. You. All of us.”

Then he pressed his mouth to my forehead, his lips lingering in a long, sweet caress.

And he was gone.

* * *

FINN

I sat in the darkness of my suite, whiskey in hand, staring out onto the bright lights of the city below me. Unlike Roman, who’d had a room here but lived elsewhere, this hotel was my home. I had a full suite on the top floor, larger than most condos in the city. It was totally self-contained, although I was the first to admit I rarely used the well-equipped kitchen, never once had sat at the dining table to eat, and the guest room had never been occupied. I had no life outside of my businesses, and it was wisest to live where I had access to everything I needed. I ran the hotel and casino. The warehouses and other office buildings I owned were used for various aspects of my world. Many illegal. I had trusted men who ran my operations. I had many people who paid for my protection. There were deals and bribes. Palms that needed to be greased daily.

I also had real businessmen who looked after my legal entities.

Many thought that being a member of a syndicate was dangerous and exciting. While at times it was dangerous, it was more paperwork and overseeing than anything. I had people who did the reinforcing when needed. My reputation helped keep that to a minimum. I ruled with a strong, firm hand, making sure to keep those around me in line. The ones who chose not to follow were eliminated. It kept me safe, and it kept all the others depending on me safe as well.

But it wasn’t my businesses on my mind right now. It was the woman I’d held earlier. The one who was permanently etched into my heart and wanted nothing I could offer her—too afraid of the consequences of loving me.

I sighed as I drained my drink, then poured two more fingers of the whiskey into my glass. I shut my eyes, letting my thoughts drift back to the day I first met Una Murphy.

I made a habit of knowing my men’s families. Making sure they were looked after. Jim Murphy was from the old regime, but he was loyal and trustworthy. I went to his house as a guest. He had invited me for dinner, and I made sure to accept those sorts of invitations when extended. It gave me a chance to see my men be themselves. See how they interacted with their own family. It told me a great deal about the sort of person they were.

I knew his wife was deceased. That he had a nineteen-year-old son and a daughter who had just turned eighteen. His intentions for his son were clear—to join his father in the ranks and be one of my men. The daughter, I had no idea about. I knew little about her. Often, that was the case in syndicate families. The males were doted on, while the women faded into the background. Expected to marry and produce children. Sometimes marriages were arranged, but I refused to be part of that. I believed a person should be allowed to love and live with whom they chose. Whom their heart chose. Some families were more progressive and the women were treated as equals. I applauded that. I expected, given Jim’s old-fashioned ways of doing things, his daughter would be part of the former.

What I didn’t expect was the old soul that dwelled in the young girl. From the moment she met me at the door, she acted like the matriarch of the family. Made sure I had a drink, sat primly, chastising her older brother like a mother when he’d run his mouth too long. She was articulate and well-read. She made and presented a roast dinner a much older person would have had trouble pulling off. One that reminded me of meals from long ago back in Ireland.

She was still a child, yet I caught glimpses of the woman she would become, and I had a feeling she would be a force to be reckoned with. I found myself talking to her, asking her about her studies, her goals.

“I want to run a hotel,” she informed me. “The very best. Small. Exclusive.”

“The hospitality industry is hard work.”

“I’m aware. I plan to take courses, then work in as many hotels as I have to in order to learn from the best.”

I was impressed with her mind-set.

“Where?” I asked.

“Tobermory or Niagara.”

“Given this a lot of thought, I see,” I said. “Expensive proposition.”

She lifted her stubborn chin. “I will save. Work hard. Get a job. Two, if I need to. Get a singing gig on the side.”

I was intrigued. “You sing?”

For the first time, her father interrupted our conversation. “Like an angel.”

Even her brother nodded. It was obvious that Brian Murphy had one goal in life and that was to follow in his father’s footsteps. He wanted nothing to do with the corporate world. He wanted the life of a soldier. I knew that was one reason for this invitation. Jim wanted me to meet Brian. To have that connection, so when he finished school and came to me for a job, I would take him on.

Oddly, I felt nothing for her brother. No interest either way. He didn’t impress me. His father insisted he go to community college before joining the ranks, in case he changed his mind. But Brian barely made passing grades. He had little ambition and even less personality. His younger sister impressed me completely. I was twenty-eight at the time, and I felt as if I were speaking with a woman my own age, not a teenager.

We had finished dinner when a neighbor came by, asking for help from Brian and Jim. “It’ll only take a few moments,” she assured them. I offered to help, but Jim waved me off.

“Una will make you coffee. We will be back soon.”

I sat at the kitchen table as Una efficiently tidied up. Unable to sit and not help, I picked up a tea towel to dry the dishes.

“Oh, you shouldn’t,” she protested. “Dad wouldn’t like it.”

I laughed. “I’ve done my fair share of dishes.”

I found myself enjoying the domestic moments with her. And I liked hearing her talk. Small inflections of an accent on occasion, no doubt picked up from her parents, gave her voice a lilting sound when she spoke that was somehow soothing.

“Do you like school, Una?”

She shrugged. “The classes, yes. The other students, not so much.”

“Why?”

She paused, lifting a hand to wipe away a stray curl from her forehead. I had to fight not to do it for her. “I feel old next to most of them. Our interests aren’t the same.”

“I understand.”

She turned her face, her lovely eyes curious. “You do?”

I nodded. “I felt much the same growing up. As if I lived a different life.”

“Yes!”

“What do you do for fun?”

“I read. Sketch. I like to run.”

“Where do you run?”

“The track at the school. I’ll be off to have a run soon.”

“But it’s getting late.”

“The track is well lit, and there are always others there,” she said, brushing off my concern.

“It’s not safe,” I insisted, stepping closer.

She smiled. “My dad has taught me to defend myself. I carry pepper spray. I can fight hard. And I’m alert. If the track is empty, I come home and run on the treadmill. But I like to run outside.”

“Please be careful.”

She tilted up her head, a small vee between her eyes. “I will be.”

The same curl fell across her forehead again, and I reached up, tucking it behind her ear. It was soft to the touch. I suddenly became conscious of how close we were standing to each other. How small she was compared to me. How enticingly sweet she smelled.

Awareness hit me. She was eighteen. Alluring, lovely, intelligent, and interesting.

And eighteen fucking years old.

I stepped back, dropping into my chair just as Brian and Jim walked in. I averted my eyes as Una held out a tray of coffee and a plate of cookies. “Take it to the living room. It’s more comfortable,” she told her father. “I’ll finish here.”

Sitting with her father and brother having whiskey and coffee, I could make out her humming in the kitchen and I wanted to hear it again. I wanted to talk to her again. Listen to her voice. Hear her plans. Her soft laughter.

All of which were impossible. I had no business feeling this way for a child. I was grateful when she called out, informing her dad she was going for a run. I waited a few moments, then made my excuses and departed.

I drove to the school and watched her run. Made a call, stationing a man to watch the track nightly, ensuring her safety. Then I did the only thing I could do—I left and never returned. She was eighteen. Off-limits in every way possible.

Yet, I never forgot her.

The next time I saw Una was years later at her father’s funeral. She was almost twenty-six and as compelling as I remembered.

The loyalty I’d seen in him was correct. He’d stepped in front of me, taking a bullet that should have killed me. Instead, it put him in a wheelchair and ended his life in a long, drawn-out decline. I paid for all his medical needs, which grew over time, and I offered as much support as he would allow. Somehow every time I went to see him, Una was out. I often wondered if it was because she blamed me for her father’s condition. I couldn’t fault her, but for some reason, it distressed me.

Brian had been working for me for a while, a decent enough soldier, although I often suspected without his father overseeing him, he would be trouble. I was worried what he would do now that his father’s influence was gone. Yet, I owed it to Jim to keep him on. He had asked me to look after his children, and I always honored my word.

I didn’t recognize Una at first. She was eight years older and no longer a child. She had grown and matured. She was all woman, and her beauty stunned me.

The day I had first met her, her hair had been tied into a thick braid over her shoulder. Now, it was loose in a mass of brilliant red curls that hung down her back. The simple black dress she wore highlighted her hair color and the paleness of her complexion. She looked tired, sad, and older than her years. I knew she’d taken a leave of absence to care for her father. I’d tried to intervene, but Jim was stubborn and refused, insisting that his daughter had it under control. I had to admit, at times, I wondered if it was Jim or Una who refused my help. Remembering her dreams, I hated the fact that she’d put them on hold to care for her father. I could only hope she found her way back to them. I wanted to help her with that.

As I stopped in front of her, offering my condolences, her eyes widened, and I took in her features. Her cheeks were full, her chin stubborn. Her beautiful green eyes were fringed with dark lashes, set under delicate eyebrows the same red as her hair. She had a smattering of freckles over the bridge of her nose, with one prominent, dark one to the side of her right eye. It gave her a sultry look, like a beauty mark. Her lips were plump and rosy but looked ragged as if she’d been chewing them in nerves.

Still, she was lovely. Even in mourning, there was no denying her beauty.

Or the fact that she was no longer a child.

I took her hand, feeling a strange sensation when our skin touched. Her gaze flew to mine, and I knew she felt it too. I closed my large palm over hers, and I held it tightly, unwilling to break our contact.

“Una,” I murmured. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Mr. O’Reilly,” she replied stiffly. “Thank you for coming.”

“Finn,” I responded. “You call me Finn.”

She indicated the back of the room. “There are refreshments.”

I glanced around, noticing everyone was looked after. Her brother was in the corner, surrounded by his friends and some of my other men. Older soldiers were there with their wives or children to pay their respects. They all seemed to have someone.

Who was there for her?

“May I get you something?” I asked. “Maybe you could sit for a while.”

She frowned. “Sit?” she echoed. “I have to make sure all is being handled.”

“Your brother should be helping,” I said, feeling annoyed.

She smiled sadly. “Brian misses Dad terribly. He needs his friends right now.”

“What do you need?” I asked before I could think.

She blinked. “I’m fine.”

I highly doubted that. I reached for her elbow, and she let me escort her to an empty table. “Sit.”

I headed to the buffet table, marveling at the food laid out. I filled a plate and carried it back to her, then got two coffees and brought them over. I sat next to her, pushing the plate closer. “Eat, please.”

She looked shocked. “You don’t have to wait on me, Mr.—” At my glare, she cleared her throat. “Finn. I’m fine.”

“Good. Then eat a sandwich.”

She picked up an egg salad, nibbling on it. I took one, devouring it in two bites. “Tasty,” I observed. “Different.”

“I add horseradish,” she said absently.

“You made the food?”

“Most of it. A few neighbors helped.”

I sighed. “Why didn’t you have it catered?”

She frowned. “It wasn’t necessary. Besides, Dad always liked my cooking. It felt as if it was the final thing I could do for him.”

The last sentence was spoken so quietly and with so much emotion, it hit me in the chest.

“Una,” I said gently, taking her hand again.

She let out a small sigh, a tremor coursing through her.

“Tell me what you need.”

“I’m fine,” she insisted. “I’ll get through today and make sure everything is in order, then I’m going back to work.”

“Good. Still planning on that hotel?”

“Yes. I have more learning to do, but I’m getting there.”

I glanced down, surprised to see our fingers still entangled. I didn’t want to let go of her. I wanted more time. I was shocked to realize I wanted a lot of things with Una Murphy. But I knew I had to move carefully.

“I have an offer for you.”

She frowned. “Oh?”

“May I take you to dinner tomorrow to discuss it?”

“Um…” she whispered, trying to withdraw her hand.

“Please,” I added.

“Okay.”

I drained my whiskey, standing and shaking my head to clear it of the memories.

That had been the start of our journey. One that began slowly, ended quickly, yet was never going to stop—at least for me.