Vicious Hearts: A Dark Enemies To Lovers Mafia Romance

“Where are you guys going for dinner?”

I shiver as Cillian walks up behind me in the dressing room mirror and leans down to kiss the back of my neck.

I’m getting dressed to go have that dinner with Gail, formerly Dr. Thompson, that we talked about when we ran into each other a few weeks ago. I know there will be some painful things that come up—my father, Finn—but I’m excited anyway.

“Her place, actually.”

“And where’s that?”

I smile indulgently, turning in his arms. He’s been more reserved and brooding than usual the last few days, ever since the horrifying accident outside the Drakos’ building.

“Is there something going on, or are you just particularly possessive this week?”

Cillian grunts, his brow furrowed. His lips curl slightly. “People I love almost got turned into pancakes the other day. I’m still thinking about that.”

People I love.

I bite my lip.

I wonder if I’m part of that group.

“She’s in SoHo. Nothing sketchy. Number three-oh-three Greene Street, if you want to have it watched,” I giggle.

He frowns, the gears turning in his head. “I think I actually know that building.”

“Seriously?”

He nods. “Yeah. Dominic Farrell’s construction company did that place.” His brow cocks. “That’s a nice building.”

“Well, I guess Gail has good taste.”

“That’s an expensive building.”

I roll my eyes. “I’m sorry, are you accusing her of something?”

He grins, shaking his head. “Just making observations, that’s all.” He kisses me languorously before he turns to stride away. “Oh, was there anything left in the guest room you wanted to keep? I thought I’d clear the rest out and give it to Goodwill or something.”

I resist the urge to smirk at the notion of a literal murderous psychopath giving things to charity.

Obviously, I sleep permanently in Cillian’s—our—bedroom now. Just like I have my side of the walk-in closet, where I keep all my clothes. But there’s a few things that came over from my old apartment, and some other clothes Cillian got me when I first arrived here—random hoodies and sweatpants mostly—that I just don’t wear or need anymore.

“Nah, it’s fine. Anything in there can go.” I bite my lip before I turn. “Hey, actually, Cillian?”

He pops his head back around the corner. “Yeah?”

“I wanted to ask you about something.”

He frowns and steps back into the closet. “Yeah?”

“That sketchbook of Finn’s,” I say quietly. “Do you remember the drawing that had my name on it, like, he drew it for me?”

Cillian smiles quietly, stepping closer to cup my face. “I remember it. With the dragon and waterlilies with What does not kill you at the top.”

I nod, swallowing my nerves. “Yeah, that one. I’m thinking about getting it as a tattoo.”

His brow arches. “Oh?”

I nod.

“Where?”

“My back. Like, my whole back.”

I watch his mind churn as he thinks about it. “Over your scars.”

“Yeah.”

He’s never asked me about them, and I’ve never told him how I got them. But from the way I catch him looking at them with anger in his eyes sometimes, it’s obvious he knows they’re from my father.

“Your scars are part of what makes you you, Una,” he murmurs softly.

“I know.”

“When I look at them…” his eyes darken. “I know they’re from him.”

I close my eyes. Cillian cups my face, kissing the top of my head with a strange sort of tenderness.

“That’s why I scowl at them,” he growls. “Not because I think they mar you or your beauty in any way. But because they make me think of a time when you were hurt, and I wasn’t there to stand in front of you.”

I lean up on tiptoes, kissing him first softly, and then much harder, before pulling away.

“And I love you for that—” My mouth clamps shut. My eyes go wide with horror. “I—oh—that’s not what I meant—”

“Do you?”

I swallow, looking away. “Cillian, I didn’t mean—”

“Do you.”

Fuck it.

“Yeah,” I snap, whirling back on him and shrugging “Yeah, I love you. And I get that’s not part of the freaking plan, and I get that you don’t—”

My words are silenced as his mouth crushes to mine, stealing my breath away as my pulse explodes in my ears. I melt against him as he kisses me slowly and possessively, until he pulls back with a slight nip to my bottom lip.

“I fucking love you too.”

“Una!”

Gail beams, throwing the door wide and giving me a big hug. When we pull apart, she welcomes me into her—frankly—stunning apartment. I mean it’s not Cillian’s place, or Neve and Ares’ crystal box in the sky. But it’s gorgeous all the same.

Modern, light-filled, and huge. I mean, especially with it being in SoHo, where most closet-sized studio apartments in basements would run you three grand a month, easy. Modern and Neo-classical paintings adorn the walls, with a few Greco-Roman style statues on pedestals here and there.

Gail sighs, rolling her eyes.

“Okay, okay, full disclosure. I have family money. I gravitated to science and psychiatry because the mind fascinates me. Not for the criminally low paychecks.”

Her gaze drops to the little cat-carrier I’ve brought Bones in. “Ooo!” she squeals. “And this is the handsome boy himself!”

“I can keep him in this—”

“Oh, no, please! He can scamper around. I love cats, but I can’t have one here. The co-op board in this place are tyrants, and the president is allergic, which means she banned all cats from the whole damn building.”

“I won’t tell if you don’t.”

She laughs. “Perfect. Can I get you some wine?”

“Sure!”

I let Bones out, who immediately runs off to find, I’m sure, a toilet to sit on top of. Then I follow Gail through the apartment into the kitchen. As we round a corner, though, my nose wrinkles suddenly as an awful scent accosts my senses.

“Ugh,” she groans. “Don’t get me started. That’s my upstairs neighbor. I have no idea what she cooks…or brews…up there sometimes, but it smells terrible, doesn’t it?”

I make a face. “It does have a smell almost like death to it.”

She laughs, shaking her head. “Well, it’s especially bad right here in the hall by my office. C’mon, let’s go get that wine.”

I follow her, a grin on my face.

A bounce to my step I’ve never felt before.

A fullness in my heart I’ve never once experienced. And another completely new feeling that’s been taking hold in me the entire drive over to this place.

Hope.

He loves me.

I grin like an idiot.

And I love him.

“Red or white?”

“You know what, Gail,” I shrug as I step grinning into the kitchen. “I don’t even care. Surprise me.”