My life, my family, who I am—all of those things make it hard to date. In college, any boys who were interested in me were put off by the security that followed me around like several large shadows. If I got too close to someone at a party, one of my security team would suddenly appear, looming over them until they ran off and found someone else to make out with. The only reason Elio and I were ever able to sneak off the way we did when we were teenagers was because we lived under the same roof, and we knew all the hidden places that security wouldn’t find us.
A flutter ripples through my chest at the thought of Elio. I should be thinking about my date tonight more than I am, but Elio’s sudden appearance today has made it hard to think about anything else. That… and the fact that he’s not going anywhere.
He’s back. Here in Boston, taking Rocco De Luca’s place as don. I felt like I had whiplash listening to Ronan explain. And I don’t think it’s entirely settled in yet—that Elio is here, that he’s home, that he’s now the kind of man that would be able to court me and receive my family’s blessing for it.
It feels massively unfair that it’s happening now, after so many years. And in a circumstance where I know that even if Elio and I were to try to suggest it to Ronan, he wouldn’t allow it. My brother will want to see that Elio is loyal. That the power won’t go to his head. That he’ll act in the interests of both of our family names, not only his own.
What am I thinking?I lean forward, resting my forehead against the cool glass of the mirror. I have no reason to think that Elio still wants me after all of these years. That he would have any interest in rekindling what there once was between us… especially since he was the one to walk away.
Letting myself fantasize about what used to be or what could have been is pointless. It’s in the past, and it needs to stay there. And I need to think about what I might want for my future. I’ve never wanted to betoldwho I should marry, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to get married eventually, maybe even have children. Those are things I haven’t entirely decided on, especially since I’ve never been forced to consider them. But what I do know is that I’m sick and tired of being a twenty-eight-year-old virgin. I’m tired of only having kissed a few men since the first time, with Elio. And I’m ready to try to figure out a way to take more control of my romantic life, nosy security and protective brother notwithstanding.
I smooth down the black silk of the dress I finally settled on—a slip dress with thin straps at the shoulders that comes to mid-thigh. It’s not at all suitable for the January cold, but I add a pair of knee-high velvet black heeled boots and a cropped black leather jacket, justifying it with the fact that we won’t be out inthe cold for all that long. We’re going to a restaurant and then to a show, and we’ll spend most of our time in heated interiors.
Running my fingers through my wavy, shoulder-length hair once more, I take a final glance at my appearance. My freckles are less apparent with makeup on, my skin soft and glowy, that pink-hued creamy rose that I inherited from my mother and grandmother, and all the women before them. A bit of champagne eyeshadow and a thin line of dark brown pencil bring out my wide blue eyes, and I used a rose-tinted lipstick on my mouth, accentuating my full, bow-shaped lips without looking overdone.
I’m not really a makeup girl day-to-day, but I wanted to go all out for this. Looking in the mirror, I feel—hopeful. Hopeful that the date will go well, that the chemistry I’ve felt over our text exchanges will translate to real life.
I don’t know how Ronan will react when he finds out, if this goes further than tonight. But we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. For now, all I want is to find out if this is going to be more than a one-time thing.
Checking my phone to make sure I’m not running late, I fluff my hair once more with my fingers, grab my thin black leather purse, and head for the stairs. My home is a heavily guarded, historic Georgian home not far from the O’Malley mansion. Close enough for Ronan to feel comfortable and to be able to respond quickly if I were ever in danger, far enough away for me to feel independent. I know I’m lucky to have my own home. Most mafia daughters are forced to live at home with their families until they’re married off—the level of independence that I have is rare in our world, and I don’t take it for granted for a second.
“Annie.” My head of security, Leon, calls up the stairs. “Mr. Connelly is here.”
“I’ll be right there!” I hurry down the stairs, heels clacking against the wood, and meet Leon at the foot of them. Desmond hasn’t come in yet. “Leon, listen,” I say hurriedly, keeping my voice low. “Ronan knows I have a date tonight. And I know you have to fill him in on how things go, my movements, all of that. But can wepleasekeep it between us who I’m going out with tonight? Just for a little while?”
I see the hesitation on Leon’s face, and I can understand it. After all, when my brother’s first wife was murdered, he killed every security guard who was complicit in not keeping her safe, and who kept secrets from him. “I’m going to tell him, if we start to get serious,” I promise quickly. “But this is Siobhan’s brother, Leon. I don’t want Ronan to have to think about the past, how he feels about me dating Desmond, if it’s not going to go anywhere. If this fizzles out after tonight, or after a few dates, then we will have dug up painful memories for nothing.”
Leon pauses, and I look at him beseechingly, hoping that I’ve hit a chord somewhere. The last thing I want is to have to convince Ronan that this is okay, when I don’t even know if I want this to go anywhere yet.
“I’ll be careful,” I promise. “I’m not asking for less security, Leon, or for you guys to stop watching out for me. Bring as many guys as you think you need to keep me safe. I’m just asking that we not tell Ronanwhothe date is with, yet. Okay?”
“Fine.” Leon’s voice is clipped, and I can tell he’s not happy. “But if there are any issues tonight, if I need to step in or if any of my men do, you don’t argue with me. Is that understood, Annette?”
Ooh, the full name.I force back a smile as I nod. “I understand,” I tell him meekly, and he nods, the crinkled lines around his eyes telling me that he’s still not happy about any of this.
“He’s waiting outside,” Leon says, and I frown a little. I’d thought Desmond would want to come in, at least. But I head for the door, aware of Leon behind me and the crackle of his earpiece as he speaks to the other guards, telling them to load up and get ready to follow.
The driver’s side door of the Aston Martin in the driveway opens as I step out, and Desmond Connelly comes around to greet me. His eyes instantly widen at the sight of me, and I feel a flush of pleasure at the look on his face. I know I look good tonight, but he’s no slouch himself. The oldest Connelly sibling—and the only son—is as handsome as he is influential and wealthy… which is to say,very.
He has the traditional Irish coloring—milk-pale skin, ginger hair, green eyes. His face is sharply handsome, his strong jaw dusted with light stubble, and he’s wearing dark jeans and a black button-down with a crisp dark green blazer over it. He smiles at me, charming and polished, and I feel that cascade of nerves again.
The last time I saw Desmond was at his sister’s—Siobhan’s—funeral a few months ago. I watched him from out of the corner of my eye throughout it, saw him standing there with his jaw tight and his face furious, the same desire for vengeance that infused my brother rippling through every inch of his body.
Something clicked between us that night at the wake when we spoke. A mutual interest that we both felt, a spark of something. But neither of us acted on it for a long time. I know I felt guilty, knowing that the initial attraction happened at Siobhan’s wake, at a moment when we were mourning her. I wondered if I should even respond to that first text he sent me, when that would mean that we might have found something good out of such a horrible tragedy.
Desmond pauses at the foot of the steps leading up to the house as I come down. "Annie O'Malley," he says, his voicewarm and appreciative as he watches me approach. "You look absolutely stunning.”
I don’t hear compliments like that often. It’s not the same coming from my brother as it is from a man like this, a man who I’ve been exchanging cautiously flirtatious texts with for weeks now. "Thank you," I say, feeling heat rise in my cheeks. "You clean up pretty well yourself."
He grins, and I can see why women find him charming. There's something magnetic about his confidence, the way he carries himself like he owns every room he walks into. I’m honestly surprised that he isn’t married yet—he’s the oldest, the only son, and the heir to the Connelly fortune after their father passed away. But no one has managed to tie him down yet.
A small flicker of apprehension curdles in my stomach at the thought ofwhyhe might not have married—that maybe he’s been waiting, fishing for the largest prize he could possibly get. The O’Malley daughter would be a prize.
But thinking like that is part of what’s kept me single and a virgin for so long. Not just my brother or my security, but the fact that I’m always wondering if someone who is interested just wants to use me. If they only want my money and the connections and influence that come along with my name. Desmond is well-connected and rich, but not as much so as the O’Malleys.
I shove the thought down, telling myself to stop. If that’s what Desmond wanted, he could have approached my father years ago, when his sister was married off to Ronan. Padraigh might have entertained an idea like that. But now, after Siobhan’s death and Ronan’s takeover of the family, a relationship between Desmond and me is going to be much more difficult to navigate.
"Shall we?" He gestures toward the car, and I notice he doesn't move to open the passenger door for me. Instead, helets me open it myself. It could be a nod to the fact that I’m more independent than most women in our world, and that I’ve said more than once that I like that independence—but there are some chivalrous things that I still enjoy. Some old-world hallmarks that I don’t mind.
