Page 17 of Her Michigan Mob Boss

A part of me welcomed the silence. My head was still a little fuzzy after the unscheduled nap I’d taken. The amazing orgasms Ciaran had given me, combined with the soothing way he washed my hair and then dried me after my bath, had wiped me out. I’d curled up on his bed, intending to shut my eyes for a couple of minutes, and drifted off. When I woke two hours later, I was embarrassed at having made myself so comfortable in the home of a man I barely knew. Ciaran didn’t seem to mind. He assured me I was welcome to treat his home as my own. He lent me some of his sister’s clothes and announced he was taking me to his favorite place to eat.

Sleeping during the day didn’t suit me. It knocked me completely off balance so getting food was probably a good idea. As we stopped outside a little brick building with faded red curtains on the windows, Ciaran held his arms out.

“This is it.Mara’s.”

When he said he was taking me to his favorite restaurant, I’d expected something fancier. He seemed like the sort of man who’d enjoy a good steak. With its shabby wooden door,Mara’swas out of place amid the tall, glass-fronted structures that surrounded it. If I was being honest, I was glad he’d brought me somewhere more down to earth. I’d been staying at a five-star hotel all week and I felt like a fish out of water. Though I liked a few luxurious touches here and there, I didn’t enjoy having to use the internet to work out what would be good to eat in the super-fancy restaurant.

As Ciaran and I walked inside, the two bodyguards positioned themselves outside the door. Shaking off their looming presence, I felt as if a weight had been lifted from me. I was sure they were both very nice men once you got to know them, but boy, were they intimidating.

The restaurant was just how I imagined an American diner would look, with faded red-and-white tiles on the floor and several stools with red leather seats lined up along a chrome-topped counter. Serving staff in pink uniforms with white aprons milled about, checking their patrons had everything they needed. Black and white photographs of Detroit hung on the walls, and there was even a jukebox in the corner. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen one of those.

Bypassing the half-dozen booths by the window, Ciaran led me to a quiet table at the back of the room. The moment we sat down an older woman rushed to greet us. Her white hair was gathered in a tight bun.

“Ciaran! It’s good to see you!” Her warm smile dropped into an admonishing pout. “It’s been a couple of weeks.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry, Mara.” He accepted a menu from her and immediately set it down on the table. “I’ve been busy.”

“You work too hard.” The older woman nudged his shoulder. There was a level of familiarity between them I wouldn’t have expected. “So, who is this lovely young lady?” she asked, handing me a menu.

“This is Annie. She’s visiting from Scotland.” He flashed me a panty-melting grin. “Annie, this is Mara. She owns this place.”

“Nice to meet you, Mara. Your restaurant is great.”

“Thanks, hon. Now, can I get you started with a couple of drinks?”

“I’ll have a bubbly orange juice.” Ciaran winked at her, and she grinned at what was clearly a private joke.

“One bubbly orange juice.” She turned to me. “And for you, hon?”

“I’ll take an unbubbly orange juice, please.”

Mara threw her head back and laughed.

“Unbubbly? You got yourself a good one there, Ciaran.”

“I sure did,” he agreed.

As Mara walked off to get the drinks, I arched an eyebrow. “Bubbly orange juice?”

“I’ve been coming here since I was a kid,” Ciaran explained. “One day I asked for bubbly orange juice instead of orange soda. Mara teased me about it every time I came in after that, so it’s kind of become our thing.”

“You come here a lot, then?”

“Yeah, I grew up a block from here. Our old house is gone. Everyone sold out to developers. Mara refused every offer they made, so they had to build around her.”

“That’s why you chose your apartment? You wanted to stay in the neighborhood you grew up in?”

“I did. The apartment’s where I live during the week, but my actual home is up on Orchard Lake.”

“Oh, right. You don’t have a wife and kids stashed up there, do you?”

Ciaran shook his head. “I wouldn’t be here with you if I did. If there’s one thing I firmly believe in, it’s fidelity.”

The look he gave me was so sincere, I wished it was me he was pledging faithfulness to. But how could it be? I was leaving in the morning.

“So.” I cleared my throat to alleviate the strange tension Ciaran’s declaration had caused and motioned toward my menu. “What would you recommend? What do you like?”

“The meatballs, meatloaf, burgers.” Ciaran rattled off half the menu. “They do a mean Coney Island hotdog, the best you’ll find outside of New York.” His brow furrowed. “You’re not a vegetarian, are you?”

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