Dark Prince: An Age Gap, Forced Marriage Romance (Silver Fox Daddies) by K.C. Crowne

Author:K.C. Crowne [Crowne, K.C.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-06-17T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 20

Luk

Walking through Bridgeport feels like stepping into another world that's far removed from the high-stakes drama of our lives. The neighborhood's got an old-school, lived-in vibe, with brick houses standing shoulder to shoulder like aging soldiers. There's a sense of community here that's strong and obvious, even to someone like me, who's more accustomed to the cutthroat dynamics of the Bratva.

Lev breaks the silence, his voice cutting through the city's hum. “You know, brother, I've noticed something different about you lately.”

I shoot him a glare, the kind that would send most men scurrying. “Don't start, Lev. We're not here to talk about my personal life.”

But Lev just smirks, undeterred by my warning. “Come on. It's written all over your face. You're head over heels for her. When's the last time you looked at anyone the way you look at Maura?”

I grumble, knowing that he's not entirely wrong. “It's not like that. We're just... it's complicated, all right?”

Lev laughs, a sound that's both annoying and somehow comforting. It’s a brother thing, I suppose. “Complicated,” he says. “Luk, everything’s complicated when it comes to love. But in a good way. You're in it, deep. Looks good on you.”

I shake my head, trying to steer the conversation away from dangerous waters. “Focus, Lev. We're here for a reason. Maura's safety is our top priority.”

He nods, but I can tell he's not ready to let it go. “All right. But just remember, brother, love makes us stronger, not weaker. Maura's making you a better man.”

I don't have a comeback for that, mainly because part of me knows he's right. Maura has changed me in ways I'm still trying to understand myself. But right now, there are bigger issues at hand.

“We'll talk about this later,” I finally concede, knowing full well that later means never if I can help it. “Right now, we need to figure out who it is that's after her and why.”

Lev nods, a sign that he's willing to drop the subject for now. “Agreed, but so that you know, we're all rooting for you two. Maura's one of us now.”

We step into O'Malley's, a corner tavern that wears its Irish heritage like a badge of honor. The dark wood paneling, stained glass windows depicting Celtic knots, and the ever-present aroma of stout and whiskey create an inviting and unmistakably Irish ambiance. A few heads turn as we make our entrance. We’re recognized either by reputation or by the fact that we stand out like sore thumbs.

Without missing a beat, we slide into a booth, and I signal the bartender for a round of Guinness. The foam-topped dark stouts arrive quickly. I take a moment to survey the room, noting the tattoos adorning the arms of several patrons—a few of them Irish mob insignias. It's clear we've found the hangout of the neighborhood's underworld.

The bartender, a stocky man with a face as weathered as the bar he tends, approaches our booth with a cautious curiosity. “What can I do for you, gentlemen?” he asks with a thick brogue—no doubt a first-generation immigrant like myself.

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