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His laughter made me smile. In no time, we both had bowls of hearty Irish stew, pieces of bread slathered in butter, and a drink. We sat at the island in the kitchen. He offered the breakfast nook table, but I was okay at the island.

I moaned after I took the first bite of stew.

It was so rich and bursting with flavor.

Besides the stout beer and lamb, there were potatoes, leeks, celery, carrots, mushrooms, peas, beef stock, and various herbs such as bay leaves, rosemary, thyme, and parsley.

As an Italian, I was happy there was garlic in there.

“I can’t believe the difference in taste the beer makes. I don’t know why I never thought to add it. And the lamb is so tender. I usually find it to be tough,” I commented.

“It is if you don’t cook it for a long time. That’s why, back in the day in Ireland, we used lamb. Beef was too expensive, but the tough lamb wasn’t. Cooking for hours was a way to make it edible.”

“You’re very in touch with your heritage. Do you ever go back to Ireland?”

“We do. We have a home back there. Mamó and Daideo came over to the States when they were very young. They had nothing, leading Daideo to become part of an Irish mobster’s crew.

It was the only work he could find. As time passed, he discovered he was better at growing the business than his boss.

Eventually, there was a mutiny, I guess you’d call it.

It was over the way the boss treated those who worked for him.

Daideo didn’t lead it, but when it was over, the men working for the old boss elected him to be the new ceann mi urra , boss.

That was how he found himself the head of a Mafia family.

It was never something he wanted or even truly liked. ”

“If he didn’t, why continue after the boss was dead? He could’ve said no, couldn’t he?” I asked.

“Possibly, although they might’ve turned on him if he did.

Daideo , Conall was his name. He knew if he let others take over, it would be far bloodier and worse for the people around them.

There were certain things he wasn’t about to continue allowing.

And there were rules he’d put in place. He did it to ensure his family survived and to protect others.

The penalty for breaking those hard and fast rules was harsh.

His men were loyal and knew he’d care for them and their families, but fuck with him, and he’d kill you without remorse.

He raised his three sons the same way. He succeeded more than his wildest dreams.”

“I know your dad, Patrick, took over. And that you children were brought up in the lifestyle for many years before your dad and uncles could get the family out. Did that all happen before you were an adult or after?” I was enthralled with his history.

I never imagined talking to a real Mafia member or former member, as it were.

“The older ones were adults and helped to get it to the final stage. The younger ones like Cara, Siv, and Aisling were still children.”

We’d taken bites in between that story. After he answered those questions, we ate steadily and left the chatter for later. The bread was no less incredible than the thick stew. I almost licked the bowl when I was done. After the food disappeared, we picked up our conversation.

“I told you about my family’s beginning here in America. Tell me about your family. Do you ever go to Italy?” he asked.

“No, Papà has been there many years ago when he was a young man, but none of us has. I’ve always dreamed of going. Having a home like your family does back in the old country would be incredible. We like knowing where we came from.” It had been a goal of mine to go there on vacation one day.

“Italy is beautiful. We’ve visited many times, and Aisling recently expanded Maeve’s Cellars by acquiring a vineyard there. I wouldn’t be surprised if we end up with a family home there to go with the others,” he said casually.

I hesitated only a moment before I had to ask. “Where else do you have homes besides here and Ireland?”

“We have homes in Temecula, California, near the original winery. There are ones in New York City, London, Sydney, Bali, Hawaii, Las Vegas, and Costa Brava, Spain. Then, there is a private island off the coast of Belize, and our southern Florida beach house is in Delray Beach.”

I almost fell off the chair. Rian threw out his arm to catch me. I knew my mouth was hanging open. I was staring at him like a fool. But oh my God!

“Whoa, are you alright?” he asked in concern.

“Rian, of course, I’m not alright. You just rattled off the fact that your family not only has this massive estate but ten more homes, one of which is a private island in some of the greatest places in the world.

You said it like you had almost a dozen pairs of running shoes. Shit, I, uhm, we…” Panic filled me.

“Gianna, take a deep breath. There’s no need to get upset,” he softly said as I gasped for air.

“You can’t be serious. You have to rethink this,” I finally gasped out after struggling to get my breathing under control. Rian had picked me up and carried me to the couch. When he sat down, I was on his lap. I was too dazed at the time to protest.

He frowned. “Rethink what, a stór mo chroí ?”

“This, us.” I gestured between us. “You can’t be with someone like me, Rian.

I’m ordinary to the extreme. I don’t vacation in exotic locations, have hundreds of homes or cars, or wear fancy jewels.

I wear fatigues and combat boots most of the time.

Sure, I can clean up decently, but I’m a gun-carrying hunter.

I bet your family has a private plane and a yacht, don’t they? ”

He studied me for several moments before answering, his hand rubbing up and down my back in a soothing motion.

“Yes, we have those homes and cars and wear fancy clothes and jewels when the occasion calls for it. And yes, there are planes and a yacht, but it doesn’t change who we are underneath, Gianna.

Those things are tools for us. They do provide comfort and pleasure, but they’re not what makes us who we are.

They help with our work and maintain an image that allows us to do things like the Hounds of Justice secretly.

The mobster history helps keep away some people who would otherwise come at us.

They’re afraid of the implications of messing with a mobster family.

If it were all gone tomorrow, we’d still have the most important thing—each other.

“If I don’t care that you wear fatigues and combat boots or drive the car you do or work the job you do, then who cares what others think or say?

I don’t. My family won’t. But this brings up something I wanted to ask you all day.

How did it go with your family? Did they interrogate you about us?

I waited for you to call, if they did,” he stated.

I knew he was using it to divert my attention, but it worked. I switched from being anxious over his lifestyle to worrying over my family’s idiotic behavior. I promised myself I wouldn’t hide anything. It was time to confess. I lifted my hand and rubbed it gently over his chest.

“I don’t want you to get upset, but it didn’t go well. And before you chew me out for not calling you, it would’ve only made it worse.”

“Tell me what they said,” he demanded.

I took him through the scene, making sure to include everything, although I wanted to edit a bit.

When I was done, he was scowling. “I don’t like the idea that they gave you a hard time.

I wish you had called for no other reason than I could comfort you.

If they continue to give you problems, I need you to call me.

I can meet with them alone, or we can do it together if you prefer.

I’m okay with either. I know how upsetting it can be not to have your family on your side. I thought mine did the same.”

“What!?” I gasped. They seemed so supportive last night. Had they changed their minds?

“Don’t freak out. Let me explain,” he hurriedly added.

Rian then told me about the huge dust-up with his family. My heart was pounding until the very end when he said he woke up and discovered it was all a dream. At work, his family had met and offered to help get my family to do the same. I thumped his chest lightly with my fist.

“Rian, you should’ve led with it was a dream, not tack it on the end! Damn it, I almost had a heart attack thinking your family changed their minds,” I scolded him.

He grinned. “I wanted to get you riled up.”

“Why in the world would you want that?”

“So when I kiss you, you’ll need to be tamed,” he said roughly.

There was this look in his eyes that made me think, and I was hoping his answer would be yes. If it were, I would be one lucky woman. I hadn’t dared dream it would be true.

“Rian, I have to ask you something, and I want you to be truthful. Do you like to be the tamer? To have to discipline at times when it comes to sex?” I asked, trying to present as neutral.

He hesitated a couple of moments, then slowly nodded.

“I prefer to be that way. However, it doesn’t always have to be like that.

If you don’t enjoy that kind of play, we won’t do it.

The way you make me feel without an ounce of resistance is out of this world.

I have no doubt we’ll be able to satisfy each other without it sexually.

And just so you know, I’m not talking about hurting you seriously or leaving permanent scars or marks on you. I’m not a sadist in that way.”

I froze as the implication hit me. Rian took it the wrong way. He turned me further around in his arms and cradled me closer. “Gianna, leanbh , baby, we won’t do that. I swear.”

“Oh, we’d better, or I’ll be very pissed off, Miele , honey. You can’t dangle a woman’s ultimate desire in front of her and then take it away. If you do, you won’t like the consequences,” I growled softly.