An Arrangement for the Mafia Princess

-Reilly- I sigh softly as the car pulls up to the restaurant. It’s the fancy French place, again. Why does every man who wants to impress me bring me here? It’s gross. “Want to run?” Fionn asks from the driver’s seat. “He’ll kill me if I blow off another date,” I remind him. We both know it’s true. A few months ago, my father suddenly started to worry that I wasn't married. I’m twenty-one, so it’s not like I don’t have time. He started by asking questions and pushing, which evolved into him selecting men for me to date. About six dates ago, I asked Fionn to pull off before I ever got out of the car. I was halfway joking. He still did. We were both called to my father’s office for a lengthy conversation about how I’m not taking this seriously. “Maybe this one will surprise you,” Fionn says, but his heart’s not in it. He wants this to be as much of a failure as I do. When we reach the valet stand, he climbs out and opens the door for me. “You look gorgeous,” he says in the Irish accent I never thought I’d find sexy. On him, it is. I step inside the restaurant and spot the man quickly. Connor Graves. MIT graduate. Fancy pants computer guy. He started a social media website that took off and is worth billions. If I’m being honest, I was shocked my father set me up with him at all. He’s better than some of the other guys, all of them rich and stuffy. At least this guy is American. He set me up with a Russian guy last week who didn’t even speak English. “Connor?” I ask. “Run along,” he says. “I’m waiting on someone.” Did my dad not show him a picture? Did he not Google me? “Umm, yeah. I’m Reilly.” His eyes roam my body, making me terribly uncomfortable as he frowns. “I thought you were Irish.” “I am,” I tell him in confusion. “You’re Sean McCarthy’s daughter?” he says, and I nod. Obviously, I am. He’s the one who set this up. “I thought you’d have an accent. Or red hair.” I blink at the man who is still sitting down as I stand awkwardly. I’ve never in my life had anyone say I didn’t look Irish. My hair isn’t dark red, but it’s reddish. “My mom was from the US, and I grew up here. Her hair was blonde. I got a mix of both.” “Well, are you going to take a seat?” he asks. What in the actual hell? Fionn steps in and pulls a chair across from Connor out for me, gently pushing it in as his fingers graze my exposed back. It sends a chill down my spine. “Why is your dad asking me to take you out?” Connor asks, wasting no time. “I wish I knew,” I admit. “A few months ago, he became concerned that I’m not married.” “Interesting,” he says. “Why me? Is it my money?” His money? Good grief. “Do you know who my father is? No, I’m not concerned with your money.” “You don’t work,” he says, almost like an accusation. “Sean McCarthy won’t allow it,” I tell him, emphasizing Dad’s name. “Though I do quite a bit of the design work for the jewelry.” He looks skeptical, as if he doesn’t believe me. I wanted to work, but Dad wouldn’t let me. He wouldn’t even let me go to college. He said it was too dangerous, and while I understand his hesitation after what happened to Mom, I never dreamed he would be this way now. “So what skills do you have?” he asks me. “Frankly, what do I get out of this transaction?” “Transaction?” I ask, blinking rapidly at this sleaze. “It’s a first date. There’s no transaction.” He shrugs. “Dates lead to marriage. I’m looking for a wife, and one who will be useful.” A waiter approaches, and Connor orders for us. He doesn’t even ask me what I like, and clearly he didn’t look into it, because he ordered a shitty bottle of wine. “I’m a busy man. I don’t have a lot of time to waste on dating. Your father told me you were a catch, but all I see is a woman with no skills and a mediocre body.” My heart sinks because there’s no reason for him to talk to me this way. Fionn steps to my side, gently placing his hand on my shoulder. “There’s an emergency. We need to leave.” I nod and stand, grabbing my purse. Connor doesn’t say a word as I walk off, and that honestly hurts just as much as the horrible things he’s said. Fionn and I make it to the door, but I stop, asking the hostess to bring me the bill. There’s not a chance I’m going to let that asshole pay for anything after he accused me of being after his money, as if my father isn’t more wealthy. I sign the receipt, leaving a generous tip for the poor waiter who had to deal with Connor as well, and follow Fionn. He opens the back door of the Mercedes for me, but I shake my head and open the front passenger door and climb in. “You know how your father feels about you sitting beside the help,” he says softly, offering me his hand to get out. “I don’t care,” I tell him, refusing. Instead, I click the seatbelt in place. My bodyguard sighs but closes the door and gets in. As soon as we turn the corner, he reaches across the console and places his rough hand over mine in my lap. “He was an ass.” I sniffle. “But he’s right. I don’t have any skills.” “Reilly, you do,” he says softly, squeezing my hand. “He was a prick. I’ll talk to your father about how he treated you and take care of it.” “Why is he doing this to me?” I ask, my voice cracking. “He won’t let me work. He won’t let me go to school. Then he sets me up with these men who think I’m worthless and stupid.” Fionn pulls the car into an empty parking lot by the lake and stops before jumping out of the car. He slams the door behind him, and an instant later, he rips mine open. “Get out of the car, Reilly,” he says, his voice a growl. I do as he says, wiping a few tears from my cheek. I hate feeling this way, and I hate that I ever let anyone see it, but it’s Fionn. MY Fionn. He was my father’s bodyguard for a few years before being assigned to me when I graduated from high school. I was labeled as difficult, but he has always, always made me feel safe. I’ve never tried to make his job harder, because I like having him around. Fionn grabs my chin, his grip somehow both firm and gentle, as he tilts my face to meet my eyes. “You’re not worthless, and you’re not stupid. You’re my whole world.” My lip quivers as he leans in and kisses my forehead. “How am I supposed to marry one of these men when I only want you?” “I’m just the help, Reilly,” he reminds me. “Your father won’t allow it. He’d probably kill me if he ever finds out I’ve touched you. The men he’s setting you up with, though, they won’t love you. You’re a transaction to all of them. When the time comes, I’ll go where you go. I’ll always be there with you.” Tears spill over in abundance, and Fionn gently wipes them away. “That’s enough for you? Being my bodyguard and secret lover?” “I can never have all of you. This is the only way I get even part of you, and part is better than nothing at all.” I lean into him, resting my head on his chest. His steady breathing calms me. “What if we run away together?” “I can never give you the life you deserve,” he says. “I’m just a security guard.” I slide my hands inside his jacket, wrapping my arms around him. I don’t want him to ever let me go. “I don’t need all the stuff.” “Your father would find us and kill me,” he says calmly as his hand plays with my hair down my back. “It can’t work. I should have walked away the first time I saw you. I knew I was going to fall for you, Mo Cuishle.” I pull back slightly, looking up at the man I love. “What does that even mean? You’ve called me that for so long, and I never asked you.” “Mo Cuishle,” he repeats, running the backs of his rough fingers down my cheek. “You are what makes my heart beat.” I tug on his shirt so he has to lean down, and I capture his lips with mine. Never one to give up control, he pushes me back against the car, gently cupping my face. Fionn is the man I want, not some uptight businessman. “I wish this could work,” he whispers against my lips. “It can’t, though. You’re the only daughter of Sean McCarthy. You’re a prize for any man.” “I’m not,” I breathe. “His business dealings are. No one will ever love me. They only have to marry me to find his favor.” He kisses me again, his body pressed flush against mine, but he pulls back quickly before reaching into his pocket. “Sir,” he says into the phone, causing my heart to drop. “Yes, sir. I’ll bring her straight home.” He hangs up and kisses my forehead. “Into the back, Mo Cuishle. Your father requires you.” I climb into the car, sitting behind the man I love this time. I know my father will kill him, but a small part of me hopes that he’ll see how much Fionn cares for me. He’s the only person, aside from my father, who has. “Chin up,” Fionn tells me, giving me a small smile through the rearview mirror. “Don’t let him know you’re upset. Don’t let him see these f***s get to you. You are Reilly McCarthy, the daughter of a mob boss and heiress to the McCarthy Jewelry fortune. Hold your pretty head high.” I sigh, glancing out the window as I dry the tears from my cheeks. He’s right. I’ve already told my father how much I hate this, yet he continues. I don’t understand it, but I give up. I need to figure out how to stop it. We pull up to the house, and Fionn opens the door, offering me his hand. Gone is his light mood and kind smile. All that’s left is my fearsome bodyguard, with his firm muscles and scars on his face. I follow him up the stairs, and he opens the door like a machine and not a man who loves me, but his fingers ghost across the small of my back. It’s a gentle reminder that he’s here, even if he can’t fix this. “He’s in his office,” Carla, the maid, tells me. I sigh. I should have known this was about business. It’s always about business. I walk down the hall and open the door, not bothering to knock. I wish I had, though, because sitting across from my father is a man I never expected to see. He turns as I walk in, his eyes raking over my body, but his chiseled face gives nothing away. “Why is he here?” I ask, afraid I’ve been trapped and this is some kind of attack. Fionn is on me in an instant. He shoves me against a wall, blocking me with his body as he pulls a gun from his holster and aims it at the son of the mafia boss. Enzo Esposito smirks at him, holding his hands in the air as he arches an eyebrow. “Put it down, Fionn,” Father says, waving his hand. “Mr. Esposito is a guest. There is no danger.” “There’s always danger around the Espositos,” Fionn says, lowering the gun, but not putting it away. “Not to Reilly,” Enzo drawls. “I’d never endanger my future wife.”