The Hermit (Mafia Empire Book 1)

Following Devlin through the foyer of his mansion, which is situated on the outskirts of Dublin, movement catches my eye. I notice his younger daughter standing at the top of the staircase, her eyes tracking us.

Unlike her older sister, she has ginger hair.

My thoughts turn to Grace, who was immediately taken to the hospital after I delivered her to her father last night.

I haven’t bothered asking how she’s doing. I did my part in saving the woman, and now it’s time for Devlin to do his part.

We walk into his office, and when he gestures at a chair, I unbutton my suit jacket and take a seat.

“I know I’ve already said it, but thank you for saving Grace. Luckily, nothing is broken, and she’s in her bedroom recovering,” he gives me the unnecessary information as he sits down behind the desk. His eyes lock with mine before he continues, “The bratva is becoming a problem we can’t ignore.”

“I know,” I mutter. I relax back in the brown leather armchair, and for a long moment, I stare at my business associate.

We’re in the same line of business, and instead of working against each other, we’ve learned to co-exist. He controls the market for small arms and machine guns while I deal in explosives.

When he called to let me know the bratva took one of his daughters, I didn’t have much of a choice but to help. Luckily, I was in London for a deal with a new client, or else I wouldn’t have made it in time.

The last thing I need is Devlin selling missiles to my enemy.

And I’d hate to kill Devlin. An ally is difficult to come by in our world.

He lets out a sigh then asks, “What do you want for saving Grace?”

The corner of my mouth lifts. “Fifty percent.”

If I own fifty percent of Devlin’s business, I’ll control the weapons market for the entire world. It will make me an untouchable God.

His eyes widen for a moment before he schools his expression then he shakes his head. “You’re insane.”

I shrug. “Maybe I am, but that’s what I want.”

“Jesus, Dominik,” he grumbles. He stares at me for a moment, then shakes his head again. “Fifty percent of my business is not an option.”

I climb to my feet, and pulling my jacket open, I reach for the gun tucked into my side chest holster. “I could shoot you right now and just take it all.”

“Wait!” His hand flies up, showing for me to calm down. “For God’s sake, sit down.”

I lift an eyebrow at him, which has him climbing to his feet. Placing his hands on his desk, he leans forward, “I don’t want to make an enemy of you. With the bratva attacking all over the goddamn world, we need to stand together.”

Tilting my head, I narrow my eyes on him. “Fifty percent.”

“Jesus Christ!” he exclaims before we stare at each other again.

The only thing that matters to me is money and power, and Devlin has a lot of it. There’s nothing else he can give me.

Exhaling another sigh, he says, “I’ll consider it on one condition.”

I cross my arms over my chest. “What?”

“Marry my daughter. If we become family, I’ll give you the shares.”

I pull a disgruntled face, not liking the sound of that at all. I’m a hermit by nature and don’t want anyone else in my personal space.

The only person I deal with often is
Evinka, my second in charge, and the sole reason she doesn’t annoy the fuck out of me is because she’s mute.

Evinka controls my employees, and I only leave my home when I have to take care of an important deal.

Like this one.

She’s the only person I trust because we grew up in the same orphanage and had each other’s backs from the beginning.

We might as well be blood-related because I consider her family, and I know she’s always viewed me as an older brother.

She’d probably be laughing her fucking ass off if she were standing in this office right now.

“I’m not husband material,” I mutter, “I prefer solitude.”

“I know.” He moves around the side of the desk and comes to stand in front of me. “Marry her and give me one grandchild. The rest of the time, you don’t even have to see each other. She can go on living her life here in Ireland with me while you continue with yours in Slovakia. A marriage and one grandchild for fifty percent of the shares.”

“Jebat,” I mutter something similar to ‘fuck’ under my breath.

The corner of his mouth lifts. “Come on. It’s a fucking good deal, and you’ll get an heir. It’s a win-win for both of us. We’ll be unbeatable.”

He’s right.

Grace’s wide gray eyes flit through my mind. Even though she was beaten up, it didn’t do much to hide her beauty.

“She stays here,” I mutter.

Devlin nods quickly.

“Does she know I made her a widow?”

Confusion settles on his face. “You’re not marrying Grace. I’m talking about Ciara.”

My eyes narrow on his face. “Why not Grace? She’s the oldest.”

“Ciara is more submissive and won’t give us hell about the arrangement.”

Not my kind of woman at all.

I make a grumbling sound.

Suspicion creeps into his eyes. “Does it really matter which of my daughters you marry?”

“No.”

He holds his hand out to me. “Then it’s a deal. You’ll marry Ciara and have one child at the very least for fifty percent of my business.”

My eyes flick down to his hand, and as I take it, I agree, “It’s a deal.”

A smile spreads over his face, and he pats my shoulder with his free hand. “Now we’ll truly be unbeatable.” Stepping away from me, he says, “Come. I’m sure I have a bottle of champagne somewhere in the house.”

GRACE

Sitting in the armchair by the window, I stare at nothing in particular. My thoughts are filled with everything that happened yesterday.

There are moments when it’s hard to believe I survived.

My face aches, and my bruised ribs and right forearm feel very tender. The slightest movement makes the pain flare up, so I try to keep as still as possible.

There’s a knock at my door, then it opens, and Ciara peeks into my room. “Hi.”

I begin to smile but stop when it pulls at the scab on my bottom lip. “Hi.”

She steps inside while asking, “Feeling any better?”

“Yeah,” I whisper.

She tilts her head, and I soak in the love shining from her eyes. “Tell me if you need anything. Consider me your personal servant.”

My lips move to smile, and I cringe at the sting. “Don’t make me laugh.”

“Sorry.”

Ciara moves closer and comes to crouch beside the plush armchair I’m curled up on. Her eyes meet mine, then she says, “Thanks for shoving me into the shrubs.”

“Of course.” I lift my hand and brush my fingers through her silky, soft hair. “I’ll always protect you.”

She leans her cheek into my palm, her eyes misting up. “I’m so lucky to have you. I just wish I could do more for you.”

Even though it aches, I let a soft smile tug at my lips. “You love me, and that’s all I need.”

Ciara’s my entire life. I’d die for her.

“Sorry to interrupt. Your father asks that you join him in the living room,” Maeve, our housekeeper, says from the open door.

I let out a groan when Maeve leaves to return to her work. She’s only been with us a month after our last housekeeper retired.

When I move to get up from the chair, Ciara asks, “Need help?”

“No. I’m good.”

My body aches all over as I walk to the doorway, and for the hundredth time, Ciara says, “I’m sorry about what happened.”

“It’s not your fault,” I mutter, anger toward Dad bubbling in my chest.

Twice now, he’s placed me in a position where I got hurt.

“It must’ve been so scary.” Ciara wraps her arm around my lower back and gives me a gentle sideways hug. “I’m just glad you’re home and you didn’t get hurt too badly.”

It’s never too bad. Not physically, anyway.

But psychologically, I’ve been knocked off my feet more times than I can count.

Flashes of my dress being torn and the fear of being raped shoot through me. I stop walking and pressing my palm against my stomach, I suck in deep breaths.

“You okay?” Ciara asks.

I nod while fighting the memories back.

You survived. It’s all that matters.

Panic bleeds from the memories, threatening to overwhelm me.

Breathe.

Just breathe.

“Come,” Ciara says. “The sooner we get this over with, the sooner you can climb into bed and rest.”

True.

My feet feel heavy as I force them to move, and I focus on regaining control over my emotions so they don’t drag me into a dark pit.

As we near the living room, I hear Dad say, “It’s a good day.”

A good day, my butt. All I want to do is curl up on the armchair by my window and process the crap I was forced to endure.

Even though I feel like shit, I lift my chin and school my features before we enter the room.

When Ciara and I notice a man standing with Dad near the fireplace, we both come to a stop at the same time.

The man’s tattoos and demeanor scream mafia, which makes me frown because Dad’s never brought home anyone from the mafia. He always meets them elsewhere.

Although I won’t stand a chance in a fight, I still move slightly in front of Ciara as I stare at the stranger.

There’s a word tattooed on his right cheekbone that I can’t make out and an X and broken heart beneath his left eye.

Ink also covers his neck and hands, but unless I move closer, I can’t make out the tattoos.

Not even a minute passes in which I take in everything about the man. The dark blue suit makes the blue of his eyes pop, and he has short and super neat dirty blond hair.

His appearance is immaculate, which makes me feel like I’ve just crawled out of the laundry basket. The sweatpants, old T-shirt, socks, and fresh bruises covering my face aren’t exactly my best look.

My gaze locks on his eyes again, and I feel something stir in my gut.

Ice blue.

My lips part as my gaze lowers to the tattoo on his cheekbone.

Is he the man who rescued me last night?

For a moment, our eyes remain locked, but then Dad draws my attention away when he says, “Come closer, girls.”

I blindly reach for Ciara’s hand and push her toward the couch that’s farthest away from our guest.

Dad gives me a look of warning as he says, “Stop being so overprotective, Grace.”

Never!

While Ciara takes a seat, I remain standing beside her, my eyes moving between our guest and Dad.

Our very attractive guest.

It’s actually distracting how good-looking he is, but where other women may swoon, it leaves me cold inside.

Braden made sure I’d hate men for the rest of my life.

Dad gestures at our guest. “This is Dominik Varga.”

‘I’m good as dead if I supply the missiles to you. It’s Varga’s territory.’

Dad’s words echo through me, and as I look at Dominik Varga again, I see more than just the tattoos and good looks.

I see the danger in his eyes that stare at me as if I’m nothing but an annoying fly buzzing around the room.

Fear slithers down my spine, and my muscles tense as I frown at Dad. “You’ve never brought work home before.”

Dad smiles at Dominik. “He saved your life last night, so I think we can bend the rules a little.”

Even though I had a suspicion, hearing the words from Dad makes shock vibrate through me. My eyes fly back to Dominik, and I remember how he crashed through the window.

How he grabbed hold of me before jumping out of the building.

The strength in his body as he saved me from a fate worse than hell.

How safe I felt right before I passed out.

Last night, he was my mysterious rescuer, but as I look at him, I feel everything but safe.

He’s dangerous.

My tongue darts out to wet my lips before I manage to say, “Thank you.”

Dominik just nods, and only then do I realize he hasn’t spoken yet.

I turn my gaze back to Dad’s, then ask, “Do you need anything else from us?”

I really want to go back to my bedroom so I can continue to lick my wounds. I just need a day or two to process the hell I was forced to endure.

“Yes,” Dad says, then he nods toward the couch. “Sit down, Grace.”

Ugh.

Reluctantly I take a seat beside Ciara while giving our father an expectant look.

Dad gestures with a hand at Dominik, then says, “Mr. Varga and I have decided to join our business interests.”

Which means?

“I’ve arranged a marriage between him and Ciara.”

The words don’t register for a few seconds, but then they hit me square in the chest, detonating and sowing destruction through every inch of my being.

“No,” I whisper while Ciara gasps beside me.

It takes another few precious seconds before I dart to my feet, stepping in front of Ciara. My tone is low and filled with anger as I hiss, “Over. My. Dead. Body.”

“Grace!” Dad snaps at me as if I’m a petulant child he can subdue with a single word.

I shake my head hard while I direct all my anger and hurt at our father. “We had a deal! I married Braden so Ciara could marry for love.”

“Things have changed,” Dad grumbles, his eyes narrowing on me and giving me a silent command to calm down and keep quiet. “Besides, it will mostly be a marriage in name. Ciara will stay with us for most of the time.”

I don’t give a shit.

Again, I shake my head while the urge to scream at the top of my lungs builds in my chest.

“Ciara will not be forced into an arranged marriage,” I practically growl. With my eyes throwing daggers at Dad, I continue, “Nothing has changed. I kept my end of the deal.” Pointing blindly in Dominik’s direction, I hiss, “Ciara will not marry that man. I don’t care who he is.”

I begin to feel downright feral, my body shaking with pure rage. In this moment I can actually convince myself I’m strong enough to fight off both my father and Dominik.

For Ciara, I’d try.

I hear my sister move as she climbs to her feet. She presses close to my side, her hand settling on my back. Feeling how she’s trembling only makes my anger grow tenfold.

Last night, I was beaten to a pulp, and today, I have to fight the most important fight of my life.

I lift my chin higher, ready to do whatever is necessary to keep Ciara safe.