The Mafia Boss

Ch. 31: I want you in my bed, Imogen.

As it turns out, Finn Gallagher is not dead. Shane has him held up in some abandoned warehouse and is demanding something in his exchange for his safe return. Or rather, someone.

Me.

Torin straight up refused at first but has since mellowed due to me pulling him aside for an intimate chat. We've agreed that I'll meet with Shane for an entire hour tomorrow morning and that—for the most part—seems to have satisfied my big brother. I'm to arrive unarmed and un-manned at the family estate and I'm not entirely sure how I feel about going back there. My father's London mansion always was my favourite. I have fond memories of the place and don't want Shane and his immoral ideals tainting it.

"Mama, when is it my birthday?"

Maeve is tucked up in bed, the soft glow of the lamp illuminating her rosy cheeks.

"Two days, baby."

Her smile is unmatched. "That's soon."

"I know," I say, snuggling up next to her. "You're going to be a big girl."

Her tiny arms wrap around my waist as excitement for her upcoming birthday takes over. Maeve dreams about being a 'big girl', and often engages me in conversation about what she wants to do when she's older. I—on the other hand—want her to stay young for as long as possible. More so now that we're wrapped up in mafia life again. I don't wish to lie to her like my own parents did for such a long time, but I do wish to protect her from certain things. I suppose that's another conversation I need to have with Torin at some point. If only he'd entertain the thought of coparenting with me.

"Mama?"

"Maeve—baby—it's late," I say, laughing. "Go to sleep."

"When I'm five, can I have a later bedtime?" she asks, certainly picking her moments to negotiate a fair deal.

"I suppose you can," I reply, kissing the tip of her nose. "But you're still four, so close your eyes."

She immediately obeys, squeezing her stuffed unicorn. Moments later, her soft snores filter out and I find the sound soon sends me to sleep. Today's events play out in my mind on an endless loop, the concerns and frustrations I have soon presenting themselves. Do I even want this? Torin and I always vowed to get out. To give our children a quiet life away from the mafia. If our past selves could see us now, they'd no doubt keel over in shock. But perhaps we always assumed that's what we wanted because we were naive kids who—let's face it—never expected to inherit these titles. Destined for a life on the side-lines if we stayed. Now, with Torin as boss and me potentially leading the Murphy family, we have standing. Power. We have the chance to make things better. Better for Maeve and any other future generations yet to come.

"Imogen?"

Movement startles me awake and I throw out my fists, ready to fight anyone attempting to harm me or my daughter in our sleep.

"Fuck—angel—it's me."

Torin's soft voice filters through the fog in my brain, prompting my fight or flight response to stand the fuck down.

"Sorry, did I hit you?"

"Yeah, right in the nose," he complains, laughing.

His voice is quiet, no doubt not wanting to wake up Maeve.

"What is it? What's wrong?" I ask, checking the clock on my nightstand.

2am.

"Nothing is wrong," he insists.