A knot forms in my gut—not envy, not desire. Something I’m not familiar with.
No woman has ever looked at me the way Nora looks at Cillian. And I’m certain no woman ever will.
I’ve been grappling with the idea of having a wife since a short time after Cillian wed Nora. I figured it’s time for me to take that step. It’s what’s expected of a man in my position in the organization.
I knew Ma could arrange it—a suitable match from one of the allied families. The daughter of a capo, perhaps. Someone who understands our world. Someone raised like Ma, trained to be the steel backbone behind a powerful man.
But as fast as the idea of Ma arranging a marriage for me came, I rejected it. I respect my ma. But the last thing I want is to be tied to a replica of Kathleen O'Rourke for the next forty years. Better to remain single for the rest of my days than live with Ma’s clone.
"Declan?"
I blink. Ma is staring at me.
"Your insights on the zoning issue?"
I haven't been listening. Cillian steps in smoothly, redirecting the conversation, and I drain my whiskey.
After dessert, Ma stands. "Nora, shall we retire to the sitting room? The men have business to discuss."
Nora rises with practiced grace—a skill she's acquired remarkably fast. She squeezes Cillian's shoulder as she passes him, and he covers her hand with his. The gesture is brief but loaded with meaning.
Once they're gone, Lorcan refills the whiskey glasses and Cillian's face shifts. The loving husband recedes as the head of the family business emerges.
"The Callahan situation," he says.
We discuss territory, respect, boundaries. The incursion three weeks ago that left one of our warehouses ransacked and two of our men hospitalized. The response we've already made and the one we're planning. The intelligence Ronan has gathered on their operation.
Cillian's gaze comes to me. "And the witness situation?"
He knows, of course. I should have expected this. Cillian makes it his business to know everything that could impact the family.
"Handled."
"How?"
There’s a long pause.
I didn't expect to do this right here right now, but I suppose it has to be done, and now is as good a time as any.
"I'm marrying her."
The silence that follows is dense with shock. Lorcan's whiskey glass freezes halfway to his mouth. Ronan straightens in his chair. Even Cillian's composure slips for a fraction of a second, his eyebrows rising before he controls his expression.
"Holy shit," Lorcan breathes. “Like, actual marriage? With rings and vows and everything?"
"Jesus, Declan," Ronan leans forward. “Tell me you’re joking. You've only known about her existence for what—a couple of days? This isn’t like you. You're not exactly the impulsive type."
Cillian observes me with those piercing eyes, his reaction mirroring the one I gave him months ago when he announced he was marrying Nora.
"This is certainly…unexpected," he says carefully.
They're all waiting for an explanation. I take a slow sip of whiskey, letting the burn slide down my throat before speaking. "It's time. Men in my position, my age—it's expected."
"Expected?" Lorcan snorts. "Since when do you give a fuck about expectations? And, last I checked, you weren’t exactly the warm, fuzzy, relationship type.”
Ronan studies my face. “There has to be more to this than you're saying. Who is she exactly? Is she connected? Important family?"
“No,” I say flatly. "When Finn and I took care of the Monaghan situation. She witnessed the hit."
