The Monster: A Mafia Romance (Boston Belles Book 3)

The Brennans and the Fitzpatricks did not celebrate Christmas together that year for the first time in a decade.

Sailor elegantly addressed the subject after Jane and Gerald’s invitation arrived at her house, excluding Troy’s, Sparrow’s, and my name.

It was during Christmas dinner, with Hunter looking so emo he gave that asshole from Panic! At The Disco a run for his money.

“What did you do, you class-A fuckboy?” Sailor shot poisonous arrows across the table with her moss-green eyes.

Entirely unwilling to discuss the subject publicly, I shoved lukewarm yams into my mouth.

“What do you care? I saved you from a night of boredom at the Fitzpatricks’.”

“First of all, it is my family you are talking about,” Hunter stated the fucking obvious, as per usual. “Second, I was looking forward to seeing Cillian and Ash.”

“You’re welcome to join them, Hunter. No one is forcing you to be here,” Troy said matter-of-factly, though I knew he was still pissed with me for screwing up the entire Gerald operation.

I’d given Nix a few days to come to terms with what had happened between her father and me, letting her cool down. She was upset. That was a given. But she would get over it.

I imagined her overcome with joy as I told her I’d come to terms with the idea of being with her.

Tonight, I had every intention of putting an end to this nonsense and claim her.

As the evening unfolded, and Hunter hit the eggnog like it was vintage whiskey while Sailor watched over her kids to ensure none of them caught on fire, and Troy and Sparrow looked ready to undress each other, I took my cue and said my goodbyes. Rather than drive back to my apartment, I headed straight to Avebury Court Manor.

I wasn’t so dumb as to think Gerald and Jane Fitzpatrick would share their daughter’s enthusiasm at seeing me on their doorstep. That suited me just fine. I was more than capable of climbing into windows, which according to all the movies and shows I had definitely not watched with Sailor and Sparrow, it was deemed hopelessly romantic.

Nix was a romantic.

I was in the best shape of my life.

It was a no-fucking-brainer.

Parking in front of the mansion, I noticed the lights were already out. The Fitzpatricks wrapped up Christmas early. I rounded their house, detecting Nix’s window. The light was turned off there, too.

Breaking into her room was like taking candy from a baby. Avebury Court Manor was built low and spread out rather than tall and narrow. And there were columns fucking everywhere. The snow was not ideal. Then again, I’d managed climbing my way into places in worse conditions.

I threw a rope over the bannister between her window and one of the columns, and when it fell back through the other side, I tied a tight knot, tugging at it to ensure it was firm before ascending up the column while holding onto the rope, rock-climbing style.

When I reached her window, I knocked on it a few times, peering in through the double-glazed glass. She was sound asleep, unmoving in her bed, her midnight hair fanned across her shoulders and face. A dark angel.

I rapped the window again, watching as she stirred awake, her eyelashes fluttering before swinging her long, lean legs over the bed and walking over toward her door.

For the third time, I banged on the window, exasperated. Pretty sure Romeo didn’t have to deal with a woman who had the hearing of a fucking air fryer.

She jumped in surprise, turning around, her eyes meeting mine from across the room. When the sight of me registered, she ran toward the window.

Atta girl.

Nix was coming back to the arms of her favorite monster.

She unlatched the window open, and in one swift movement put her hands on my shoulders and pushed me with all her power, sending me flying back down. Quick on my feet, I grabbed onto the gutter, hanging onto it for dear fucking life, my legs swinging in the air.

“Merry Christmas to you, too. I see you decided to gift me a crazy bitch this year. I’ll take it.”

“You expected a gift?” she spat out from somewhere above my head, sounding … well, not half as glad as I thought she’d be to see me. “What on earth are you doing here, Brennan?”

Luckily, I put a lot of effort into ensuring my upper body was strong and did suspension exercises and pull-ups with Mitchell four times a week, so I knew that as long as the gutter wasn’t going to split in two, I could hang on it for a while.

Of course, I might lose my fingers in the process because of fucking frostbite.

“Well, I thought it would be a good time to talk now, after you’ve processed everything that’s happened.”

I was fucking obsessed with her. It made no sense at all. You were not supposed to crave what was offered to you in abundance.

“You mean you backstabbing my family and me, making my life a living hell, causing the very near wreckage of my parents’ marriage, and bringing destruction upon us that would take decades to emotionally reconstruct?”

When she put it that way …

“Grow the fuck up, Nix. I played with your daddy a little. It had nothing to do with you.”

“It had everything to do with me! You hurt the people I love and care about the most, knowing how many issues I had with my mother and about her mental state, and you kept it from me.”

“I had a good reason,” I grunted, pulling myself up and settling on the roof outside her window like a goddamn dog since she wouldn’t let me in. Aisling crossed her arms, arching an eyebrow. She wore horrible flannel pajamas with ferrets on them. I knew she used to have a ferret—Shelly—and wondered how the fuck I ended up being consumed by a woman who, despite her declarations of love for me, never tried to change her quirky weirdness to fit the mold and please me.

“Aw, you had a reason.” She clapped sarcastically. “This should be good. Let’s hear it.”

“Your father had an affair with my biological mother.”

“So did the rest of Boston. Allegedly,” she drawled. “Didn’t she work in the most ancient profession in the world?”

Ignoring her snark, I trudged through with the story that was frankly beginning to bore even me to death.

“Earlier this year, in November, the day I bailed on you—”

“Another prime example for why I shouldn’t give you the time of the day,” she added, “or night.”

I ground my teeth together, trying to keep my cool.

“I didn’t show up because Catalina had died, and I needed to fly to Atlanta to sort through her shit. I found some letters she wrote to your father. Letters in which she accused him of impregnating her then causing her to miscarry through beating her up. She claimed he was the one who forced her into leaving me behind when she left.”

That stopped her from unleashing another unhelpful remark my way. Aisling’s already milky skin paled further. She stepped back, biting her lip to prevent her mouth from falling in shock. I raised a hand, shaking my head.

“Are we…” she cleared her throat “…related?”

I was very close to falling from her roof and breaking my spine.

“What? Aw, fuck no, sweetheart. I’d be puking buckets into next year if that were the case. No offense. Their affair happened way after I was born. Point is, I discussed it with your father. Most of it wasn’t true, but some of it was. At any rate, that was why I wanted to torture him.”

“You could have told me,” she said finally.

“No, I couldn’t,” I groaned. “What would I have said? ‘Oh, by the way, I’m responsible for all the shit your family is going through. Now must be a good time to put my dick in your mouth.’”

“No need to be crass.”

“Look, I’m sorry it happened this way. I don’t apologize often—correction, I don’t apologize at all—so I suggest you take it, run with it, and accept it. I came here today with a proposition I think you would very much like.”

She pursed her full lips in dissatisfaction, and again I hated myself for taking her for granted all these years. Even when I didn’t touch her, I knew she was there, waiting for me, fantasizing about me. It was almost as good as having her. Knowing that I could.

Now, she looked like she wanted to finish the job the Bratva started that night she ran away from the cabin.

“A proposition?” she asked.

“I’m ready to take our relationship to the next level.”

“I’m afraid you’ll have to spell it out for me, seeing as with you it could also mean anal sex.”

I chuckled. “I’m willing to have you.”

“You’re willing to have me,” she repeated flatly.

“Yes. As whatever-the-fuck. Girlfriend? Partner? What’s the correct term for people who are over twenty-five?”

“I don’t know, and I don’t care. I’m not your anything, Brennan. You had your chance. You blew it. Ten whole years I waited for you to make me yours. All you needed to do was give me the time of the day. I’ve wanted you for so long, I don’t even remember what it feels like not to want you. Well, I’m about to find out.”

She didn’t want me.

I had never taken a scenario like this into consideration.

Nix’s love was always in the background for me. Available and ready whenever I was.

Now, I’d fucked up and needed to deal with the consequences.

“I’m not the type of guy to take no for an answer,” I warned, meaning it.

“I’m not the type of girl to give a dang about what kind of guy you are. You want me, you’ll have to win me.”

Feeling my jaw ticking with annoyance, I took a deep breath.

“That should be easy. I only win.”

“You’ll have to chase me,” she corrected.

“I don’t chase,” I reminded her quietly.

“Well, then I guess you won’t have me. Work for it. Treat me as your equal. No. Know what? Treat me as your better. Because I am. I know you hate women. I know you are leery of them, but unfortunately for you, I am one. I will not accept anything short of a fairy tale, Brennan, even if it’s with the monster in the story.”

Dumbfounded, I stared at her, waiting for … what exactly? Her to change her mind? She wasn’t going to. She wanted a fucking fairy tale, and so far I gave her a nightmare with a side of betrayal.

“Now leave,” she said primly.

“Nix—”

She slammed her window in my face, drawing the curtains shut for good measure.

She kicked me out.

Made new rules for our game.

Now I needed to play by them or admit defeat.

The first thing I did when I got back to my apartment was fling the pantry door open, nearly sending it off its hinges. There wasn’t much food there. And by ‘much’ I meant at all. There wasn’t any food there period. Only packs upon packs of Marlboros imported from Europe, because American cigarettes tasted like farts on fire.

I stared at the piles upon piles of what Aisling had referred to as cancer sticks, wondering if I was really about to do what I was about to do.

I was.

Fuck it. I took six bullets in my lifetime. I could do this.

I grabbed all the packs and shoved them into four recycling bags, including the pack that was in my pocket, and tossed everything into the building’s dumpster.

Then I went back upstairs and stared at the empty ashtray on my coffee table.

Proving to Aisling that I took her seriously just might turn into my idea of a nightmare.

And so help me God, she better come around fucking quickly or heads were going to roll on the streets of Boston.