Back For Her: An Irish Mafia Romance

The Lucky Clover

***DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN ANY OF THE PHOTOS OR GIFS ON THIS PAGE OR IN THE REST OF THE STORY.***

Kylie's POV:

It took me over three damn hours to get ready and find something to wear to go out tonight. If it weren't for all the fucking blood I had to scrub out from under my fingernails, I would have gotten done a lot quicker, but that's just the price you gotta pay if you wanna do the job yourself. And I have definitely always enjoyed doing the job myself. And my motto has always been, if you want something done right, you have to do it yourself. Don't get me wrong I have many men at my disposal willing to do anything and everything I tell them. Still, there's nothing wrong with getting your own hands dirty every now and then. And it is quite satisfying as well and a good stress reliever. I was hoping to get through this evening without any disruptions and have a chill night out at the club, but as usual, someone had to go fucking with my money. No one fucks with my money. No one. 

"Boss? I got the car ready. Daniel and Lucas are going to meet us there." Callahan speaks up from my doorway. He knows he can call me Kylie, but he likes to keep it formal. I felt his presence before he even spoke. Being in the drug game or just any organized crime puts you at risk, and it's important to always be aware of your surroundings. You can never be too careful in who you trust and or do business with. I learned that from my Uncle Michael when he was shot by one of his best friends over half a million dollars in cocaine. You think you know someone, and you think they have your back until they turn around and stab you right square in the middle of it. Six years later, it still feels like yesterday when I held his hand in that hospital room when he took his last breaths. It may have been a while since his death, but the pain still aches all the way down into my gaping dark soul. And I thought his death was going to be the only surprise until I found out he was leaving his business to me—his niece.

"Give me one second, and I'll be down," I respond to him without even making eye contact. My guys have gotten used to my bipolar nature. I wouldn't say I'm bipolar per se, but I can go from cold as fuck to ready to get down and party the next minute.

"Oh, and Callahan?" I wait for him to turn and face me again, so I know he hears me. Callahan is one of my most trusted right-hand men besides my brothers, of course.

"Make sure that Johnathan motherfucker doesn't step foot near the club tonight. That's all we need is a fucking scene after the shit he pulled last week." Callahan nods. I swear that man never smiles. I mean, I'm not much for smiles either, but damn I don't think I have ever seen his facial expression change but like twice since I met him.

"Yes, ma'am." So formal. I smile at him feeling my mood from earlier lift a little.

"Thank you." I watch him leave the room before turning back to my mirror. I swear if Johnathan shows up tonight, I will fuck him up. The shit I have to go through if I want to get laid. Every guy I seem to fuck becomes crazy obsessed with me, or they are just trying to use me for my money. It gets pretty old, not being able to have a steady fuck to keep the hormones calm. Us women have needs too. I'm sure that's half of why I'm always so moody even though I would never admit it out loud. After fucking Johnathan, he became a little obsessed and has been following me around trying to cause problems with my business until I see him. If he doesn't be careful, I will have no choice but to eliminate the problem altogether. Hmmm, maybe I should anyways. Or at least give him a little scare. Yeah, that could work.

I stand in front of my mirror, adjusting my black off the shoulder super cropped top. It's more of a bra than anything, but my boobs look good as hell in it. One thing about tops like these though, is you have to be careful. My tits will topple right out if I shake and move around too much. I give them a little adjusting to make sure they are secure. Just because I have to be tough and ruthless for my job doesn't mean I can't look sexy while doing it. I look over myself, taking in my outfit. Sometimes I question my own outfit choices, and my brothers definitely don't like them. I pair jean shorts with my black top and matching thigh-high black boots. I grab my bag before throwing an ankle-length black jacket over my shoulders.