Thy Kingdom Come

The house is chaos, with countless people rushing around, ensuring everything is in place. They know what happens when Co

“With all this, y’d think our aul’ lads knew what they were doin’,” Rory whispers, whistling when he looks at the hanging crystal chandelier.

And he’s right.

This wealth was built on blood money, and our fathers believed they were untouchable. But the last few days have proven otherwise.

“I’ve been thinkin’,” Rory says, keeping his voice low as we casually walk down the hallway. “About what Aidan said. I think we have a double agent working for us.”

“Aye, I was thinkin’ the same thing,” I reply with a nod. “Nolen and Ronan were workin’ for the Doyles, but who put them in contact? They don’t have the brains or the bollocks to do that themselves. They’re small fry. We need the whole fuckin’ ocean.”

Rory hums in agreement. “And why? What are the Doyles offerin’ them? To consort with Catholics, it’s sacrilegious. Not just for us Protestants, but if other Catholics found out that the Doyles were dealin’ with us…they’d be shu

“Can ya ask yer uncle Sean?”

“What should I ask him, Cian? How’s it hangin’, Uncle? Who’d ya think would betray us? Oh, and I’ve gone into Dublin in hopes of tryin’ to infiltrate the Doyles.”

“Aye right,” he says, while Rory laughs. “It was just an idea. Yer uncle wouldn’t lie to ya.”

But as soon as the words leave him, he realizes the mistake he made. Uncle Sean has lied to me and will do so again if he thinks I’m getting too close. This is why we need to do this on our own.

When we come to the family portrait bar me, both Rory and Cian stop, needing a closer look. “That fuckin’ bitch,” Rory says, shaking his head.

“Aye, she has a face like a baten bear.” Cian gags, shuddering.

A waiter walks by with a bottle of champagne. Cian stops him. “I’ll be havin’ that. Cheers.”

Cian doesn’t give him a chance to argue and snatches the bottle from his hands. He legs it away from us, scared.

A photographer takes our picture. It’s a little over the top, but it seems Fiona has gone all out.

“I think we deserve a wee drink.” Before I can protest—considering we agreed not to drink—Cian shakes the bottle rigorously, aims it at the painting, and pops it open, showering the canvas with expensive champagne. “Much better.”

Rory chuckles while I tilt my head to the side, admiring the adjustment. It looks class.

“Away ta fuck,” Rory mumbles under his breath. I have no idea why, until I peer in the direction he’s looking and almost rub my eyes in case I’m seeing things.

“Who’s thon?” Cian asks, the remnants of the bottle trickling all over the floor.

“Babydoll,” I say, not answering his question, but rather, speaking my disbelief aloud.

Standing down the hallway is Babydoll, a silver tray in hand. A man speaks to her and she nods, like she’s taking note of his instructions. Is she working this event?

“That’s her?” Cian whistles as we all stare.

Rory has seen her picture on social media, so he recognized her, but no picture can capture how beautiful she really is. She is i

Amber’s warning plays over in my mind, and I push aside the happiness I feel at seeing her because I must stick to my guns—everyone is the enemy until I can prove otherwise.

Inhaling deeply, I dig my hands into my pockets and walk to where she stands. When she realizes she’s not alone, she lifts her eyes, and as they lock with mine, her mouth parts. I try not to think about how those lips felt when I claimed them as mine—wild craic, that’s how.

“How’s it goin’, wee doll?”

She rolls her eyes. “It was great until about five seconds ago.”

She attempts to push past me, but I sidestep, blocking her exit. It seems to be our go-to move. “Ach, that’s not nice.”

“I wasn’t trying to be nice,” she snaps, just turning me on further.

She has every right to be ragin’. The last time we were together, I was a fucking bastard to her, but if only she knew why. The reasons seem to evade me, however, because seeing her now, all I want to do is beat my own arse for being such a prick.

“Hi, I’m Cian.” He offers his hand, which Babydoll shakes.

“Rory.” He waves from a distance.

I don’t know what to say or do as I’ve never been in this position before. I’ve never been interested in anyone as I am with Babydoll.

She clears her throat, clearly uncomfortable. “Your father isn’t paying me to chat, so I better go.”

I hate that she’s waiting on these fuckers, so I ask, “How much is he payin’ ya?”

“That’s none of your business.”

Cian snorts, awful amused with Babydoll’s smart mouth.

Digging into my pocket, I retrieve my wallet and pull out six hundred pounds. “This enough?”

When I offer it to her, Cian groans, shaking his head.

She steps back, her mouth ajar. “Are you fucking serious? I don’t need or want your charity. I work for my money. I don’t have the luxury of everything being served to me on a silver platter—literally. Now, if you’ll excuse me…kindly fuck off.”

She bumps her shoulder into mine as she pushes past me, offended. When she’s gone, I look at Rory and Cian, confused.

“Ach, that went downhill awful quick,” Cian says, doing a poor job of concealing his grin.

“Really, Punky?” Rory asks, eyebrow cocked. “Ya may as well have called her a millbeg.”

“What?” I put the money into my pocket, suddenly feeling scundered.

“It’s true,” Cian butts in. “Really sorry, but the fuck? Why would ya think that was a good idea?”

“’Cause I don’t want her servin’ these arseholes. She’s better than that,” I argue, still not seeing what the big deal is. “I was trying to be…nice.”

Cian slaps my back playfully. “Maybe try being a little less patronizin’ next time,” he suggests, smirking. “She doesn’t strike me as the type of girl who appreciates charity.”

“Charity?” I scoff. “I did no such thing. I offered her money—” But I stop midsentence as I realize what I just did. “Fuck.”

I meant well, but the boys are right. I may as well have flashed my wealth in her face because six hundred pounds is nothing to me, but to others, it’s a lot. I insulted her by trying to be considerate.

“This is why I don’t do nice,” I say, ru

“If that was yer attempt at being nice—”

“I’ll knock yer melt in if ya want to see nice,” I interrupt Cian, who bursts into laughter.

All laughter is long forgotten however when Co

“And?” I challenge, not jumping to command.

Co

This is a not so subtle hint that they’re to leave.

Nodding discreetly, I give them the okay that I’ll be fine. They both leave, knowing better than to argue with Co

Once they’re away, Co

“Aye,” I smartly reply, folding my arms. “It’s the day ya married the love of yer life, so ya did.”

“Quit yer gurnin’. I won’t have ye ru