Page 57 of Stolen Rival (The Stolen #1)

PATRICK

Six months later…

“I’m not sure this blindfold thing is my kink.”

My lips twitch at the slight pout to my wife’s full lips. “You mean you’re impatient to find out what I’m hiding.”

She folds her arms and huffs loudly. “I don’t like surprises.”

That makes me laugh. “Sorcha, you love surprises. Now sit still, and if I see you try to take a peek, I will bind your hands, too. And we all know that is your kink. One of many.”

I swear she stamps her foot. My wife with her brat mode engaged might be my favorite version of her.

Sometimes I swear that’s how she won me over in the first place.

All those sarcastic retorts and vicious put-downs made me sit up and take notice and see her.

Really see her for the tough, strong, incredible woman she is.

She’s grown beautifully into her role as my partner, not just in marriage, but in life, too .

“Behave, or I’ll have the driver take a detour, and you’ll have to wait even longer.”

“You realize this is grounds for divorce.”

I chuckle as the car slows to a stop. The engine cuts out, and I unclip her seat belt, then mine. “We’re here.”

She reaches up to remove her blindfold. I snap a hand around her wrist. “Oh, no, you don’t. Not yet. Wait there, and I’ll help you out of the car.”

“You’re loving this, aren’t you?” Her pout is even more pronounced.

“Yes.” I climb out and round the back of the car, then open her door. “Give me your hand. Watch your head.”

Once she’s clear of the car, I encircle her waist from behind and rest my chin on her shoulder. “Ready?”

“Patrick, I’ve been ready since you told me to wear a nice dress and heels two hours ago. It’s you that’s dragging it out. And it’s freezing. Hurry up.”

“Such impatience.” I remove the blindfold and tuck it in my pocket. Could come in handy later.

“A church?” Sorcha twists her head and looks at me, her eyebrows lifted. “You brought me to mass?”

“Not exactly.” At that moment, Darragh appears from inside. Right on time. I hold up a finger, and he stops where he is. I grip my wife’s hips and turn her toward me.

“Our wedding was born of a ferocious need for revenge, and a selfish desire to grow my business. If I’d known then what I know now, I might have found a way to deal with things differently, but here we are.

” A crisp wind blows a strand of hair across her face.

I tuck it behind her ear. “We can’t legally marry again, but we can have a ceremony and a celebration that you deserve. ”

“A-a blessing?”

“Exactly.” I beckon to Darragh. He approaches us, a broad smile on his face. “Darragh is going to walk you up the aisle. All your friends are here, both old and new. Cathal is here with his nurse. The boys have even bought us presents this time. So, Sorcha Mahoney, will you remarry me?”

She presses a hand to her mouth. “Oh, Patrick.”

“Is that a yes?”

She nods, eyes glistening. “Yes. Yes.”

I bring her hand to my lips and kiss it. “I’ll see you inside.”

Leaving her with my brother, I enter the church, stopping to greet a few of the guests, then stride to the front where Father O’Connor is chatting to Liam. He beams, reaching out his arms to fold my hands inside his old, weathered ones.

“Patrick, welcome. Is your lovely wife ready?”

“Yes.”

Father O’Connor motions to the organist who begins to play.

I turn to face the back of the church. As Sorcha appears, her hand tucked into the crook of Darragh’s arm, my chest tightens.

At thirty-five, I’d given up on the idea of love.

In my field of work, love is a risk we can’t afford to take.

Now, at thirty-six, and as I watch my wife smile, her eyes locked on mine, I realize that a life without risk isn’t a life worth living.

I would kill for her. I would die for her.

I would burn the world if she asked me to.

I’d do anything for this woman standing by my side.

My rock, my home, my safe place to fall.

The only person I can be truly vulnerable with, who sees the man behind the mask I’m forced to show the world to keep my family safe.

When she reaches me, I slide an arm around her waist and kiss her temple. “I love you. ”

She gazes up at me, the hearts in her eyes reflected in mine. “I love you, too.”

The staff at Glenraven Village, an eighteenth-century manor house that now hosts weddings, greet us warmly.

Sorcha hasn’t closed her mouth once since we arrived, her eyes on stalks as she drinks in the beauty of this place.

Set on a hundred acres of the greenest Irish land, it’s the perfect setting for a celebration of love.

The guests gather in what was once the barn, and we wait in the foyer beside the twelve-foot-tall Christmas tree as they are seated, ready for our big entrance.

We might have married months ago, but I told the staff we wanted the full wedding experience.

It’s the least my wife deserves. I’m not sure I’ll ever fully quash the ball of regret at my actions.

Not because I don’t believe her father deserved it.

He did. So did her brothers. But Sorcha?

I can’t give her back what I stole from her, and she may never fully forgive me for it, but I can make damned sure I treat my wife like the fucking queen she is for the rest of her life.

Each day, I wake up glad she chose to stop letting my choices ruin her life.

We’re given the nod, and the heavy wooden doors slide back.

A round of applause breaks out as Sorcha and I enter.

Several round tables are crammed with friends and family, pink and white peonies adorn the candle chandeliers dangling from the vaulted ceiling, and hundreds of lights hang from the walls.

I left the decoration to the staff—what do I know about design? —and they’ve gone above and beyond.

“Patrick, it’s beautiful.”

“So are you.” I lead her to the top table where Liam, Darragh, and Cathal, along with his nurse are already situated. A harpist plays soft music from a small stage set up at the far end where, after we’ve eaten, the DJ will play tunes to which we can dance the night away.

After a short toast, Liam gets up, and he’s got this mischievous look in his eye that tells me to ready myself for payback.

I groan. “Don’t make me regret this.”

“Too late, brother.” He claps me on the shoulder, then taps a spoon on the side of his glass.

“Hi, everyone. Most of you know me, but for those who don’t, I’m Liam, the unfortunate bastard who’s had the dubious honor of growing up with this eejit here.” He pauses for a ripple of laughter to abate.

“Patrick, as the eldest Mahoney, grew up with certain privileges, ones he used to his advantage at every opportunity. He was always three steps ahead. When he was ten and I was eight and Darragh five, Patrick here set up a lemonade stand at the end of our driveway. Me and Darragh squeezed the lemons, and Patrick kept the profits. He told me it was a ‘strategic partnership,’ which basically meant we did all the work and he sat back and counted his euros.”

More laughter and applause. I roll my eyes. He’s really taking advantage of this. One day, his turn will come, and I’ll make sure I get my revenge.

“Some of you know Patrick as a hard-nosed businessman, others as a prominent member of our community. I know him as the lad who once tried to build a zip line out of Mam’s washing line and a coat hanger.

Needless to say, his adventure ended with him arse up in Mrs. Dobbs’ prize rosebushes, and he got a spanking from Da for his troubles. ”

I did, too. Couldn’t fucking sit down for a week.

“And then there was the time when thirteen-year-old Patrick, all juiced up on teenage hormones, had a crush on fifteen-year-old Cara O’Brien and decided to win her over by serenading her under her bedroom window.

Little did he know that Father O’Connor was visiting the O’Briens that day to discuss the youngest daughter’s communion and was treated to a full-throated version of “Sex on Fire” by our Patrick here. ”

“Oh, my God.” Sorcha bursts out laughing, and the rest of the guests join in. I smile and nod and plot painful retribution.

“But then along came this beauty. The lovely Sorcha. The woman who tamed the lion. The only person who’s ever rendered my brother speechless. Together, you are a force. May your days be filled with laughter, your nights with love, and your secrets… forever buried, eh?”

Another ripple of amusement echoes around the vast space. I shake my head, but I can’t help smiling.

He raises his glass. “To Patrick and Sorcha.”

Chairs scrape on the wooden floor as everyone gets to their feet. “Patrick and Sorcha.”

I grip Liam’s upper arm and yank him into his seat. “You’re dead.”

“Hey.” He throws his arms in the air. “Be thankful it was me and not Darragh. He had way more stories he wanted to tell. I toned it down.”

Darragh grins. “It’s true.”

“That was the best speech ever,” Sorcha says, getting up from her seat to hug my brother. “And you.” She hugs Darragh, too. “I want to hear all those untold stories.”

I groan again. “No, you don’t.”

“Oh, but I do. There are no secrets between husband and wife.”

Pushing back my chair, I rise to my feet and wrap my arms around her waist. “Time for our first dance, and maybe, if you’re good, I’ll whisper one of those secrets in your ear.”

She grins. “You have yourself a deal.”

I dip my chin at the harpist who nods in acknowledgment, then begins playing the song I chose for our dance.

I lead Sorcha onto the dance floor, and we sweep around the room, the lessons she kept up after revealing her secret at her twenty-first birthday party paying off. She’s almost as good as I am now.

“So, mister, what’s this secret you’ve chosen to share?”

I brush my lips against the shell of her ear, reveling in how she shivers at my touch. Whereas once she flinched in fear or disgust, now she and I can’t get enough of one another.

“When I was a child, I used to have this ratty, old teddy bear that I took everywhere with me. I couldn’t sleep without him, and he came on all our family trips when my father had to travel for business.

One day, I fell in the stream because I was dicking around on the way home from school, and poor old ted slipped out of my backpack, never to be seen again. ”

“Oh, you poor thing.” Her eyes are far too sparkly for her to feel sorry for me, but I go along with it anyway.

“I cried myself to sleep that night.”

This time, she shows a modicum of sorrow. “How old were you?”

“Eight.”

“Aww. That’s so sweet. I wasn’t sure you had tear ducts.”

And… my witty wife is back in the room.

The song ends, and I beckon to the rest of the wedding guests to join us. Except as soon as the dance floor is packed, I take my wife’s hand, drape a warm coat I arranged to have waiting around her shoulders, and lead her from the room and out into the expansive gardens .

As requested, the staff have lit a fire, placed rugs on the ground, and left a bottle of champagne chilling in a bucket of ice. I make sure Sorcha is comfortable and warm, swaddled in two of the blankets, then pour us both a glass of champagne.

“To my beautiful wife, the missing piece in a life that always felt complete until you came along and revealed the gaping hole that only you could fill. Who gives me a reason to wake up in the morning and work as hard as I can to make you proud of me. Who challenges me more than any other living being, and who keeps me on my toes—these days without stomping all over them.”

She giggles and touches her glass to mine. “Thank you for providing a home and the care my brother needs, and for including him in all our family events. He might not be able to vocalize how happy he is living with us, but I can.

“Every day, I see the improvements in him, and how much being surrounded by life and love is making a difference. For eighteen years, he spent his days cooped up in that facility, denied what should have been rightfully his under the guise of keeping him safe. But you have proved that he could have lived with his family all along. Looking back, I think Da was embarrassed to have a son with special needs. He couldn’t see the beauty in him, only the flaws.

He missed the strength it takes for my brother to live every day and only saw his weaknesses. ”

A tear rolls down her cheek, but I don’t wipe it away. I sense she wouldn’t want me to.

“Our beginning was unconventional and agonizingly painful, but I know the rest of our lives will be filled with love and laughter, help and support, pride and happiness. So much happiness.”

She leans her head on my shoulder, warm and solid, the fire crackling in front of us.

For the first time in years, I don’t feel as though I’m chasing anything.

Not power, not vengeance, not ghosts. I look up at the stars twinkling in the sky and imagine my parents looking down, proud of the man I’ve become.

“We’ve got a long way to go,” I murmur, brushing my lips against her temple. “But to walk every mile of it with you is my honor, my privilege.”

She doesn’t answer, just nestles closer, and I feel her heartbeat sync with mine.

She was meant to be my enemy, a rival I stole and forced into marriage to further my own ambitions. But somewhere along the line she stopped being my rival and became my reason for living.