Jaded Soul: A Standalone Irish Mafia Romance Read online

  Jaded Soul

  A Standalone Irish Mafia Romance

  Nicole Fox

  Contents

  Mailing List

  Also by Nicole Fox

  Jaded Soul

  1. Cillian

  2. Saoirse

  3. Cillian

  4. Cillian

  5. Saoirse

  6. Cillian

  7. Saoirse

  8. Saoirse

  9. Cillian

  10. Saoirse

  11. Cillian

  12. Cillian

  13. Saoirse

  14. Cillian

  15. Cillian

  16. Saoirse

  17. Cillian

  18. Cillian

  19. Cillian

  20. Cillian

  21. Saoirse

  22. Saoirse

  23. Cillian

  24. Saoirse

  25. Cillian

  26. Saoirse

  27. Cillian

  28. Cillian

  29. Cillian

  30. Saoirse

  31. Cillian

  32. Saoirse

  33. Cillian

  34. Saoirse

  35. Cillian

  36. Saoirse

  37. Cillian

  38. Saoirse

  39. Cillian

  40. Saoirse

  41. Cillian

  42. Saoirse

  43. Saoirse

  44. Cillian

  45. Saoirse

  46. Cillian

  47. Cillian

  48. Saoirse

  49. Cillian

  50. Saoirse

  51. Saoirse

  52. Cillian

  53. Saoirse

  54. Cillian

  55. Saoirse

  56. Saoirse

  57. Cillian

  58. Cillian

  Epilogue: Cillian

  Extended Epilogue

  Sneak Preview of GILDED CAGE

  Mailing List

  Also by Nicole Fox

  Copyright © 2021 by Nicole Fox

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  Also by Nicole Fox

  Mazzeo Mafia Duet

  Liar’s Lullaby (Book 1)

  Sinner’s Lullaby (Book 2)

  Kovalyov Bratva

  Gilded Cage (Book 1)

  Gilded Tears (Book 2)

  Jaded Soul (Book 3)

  Jaded Devil (Book 4)

  Bratva Crime Syndicate

  *Can be read in any order!

  Lies He Told Me

  Scars He Gave Me

  Sins He Taught Me

  Belluci Mafia Trilogy

  Corrupted Angel (Book 1)

  Corrupted Queen (Book 2)

  Corrupted Empire (Book 3)

  De Maggio Mafia Duet

  Devil in a Suit (Book 1)

  Devil at the Altar (Book 2)

  Kornilov Bratva Duet

  Married to the Don (Book 1)

  Til Death Do Us Part (Book 2)

  Heirs to the Bratva Empire

  *Can be read in any order!

  Kostya

  Maksim

  Andrei

  Princes of Ravenlake Academy (Bully Romance)

  *Can be read as standalones!

  Cruel Prep

  Cruel Academy

  Cruel Elite

  Tsezar Bratva

  Nightfall (Book 1)

  Daybreak (Book 2)

  Russian Crime Brotherhood

  *Can be read in any order!

  Owned by the Mob Boss

  Unprotected with the Mob Boss

  Knocked Up by the Mob Boss

  Sold to the Mob Boss

  Stolen by the Mob Boss

  Trapped with the Mob Boss

  Volkov Bratva

  Broken Vows (Book 1)

  Broken Hope (Book 2)

  Broken Sins (standalone)

  Other Standalones

  Vin: A Mafia Romance

  Box Sets

  Bratva Mob Bosses (Russian Crime Brotherhood Books 1-6)

  Tsezar Bratva (Tsezar Bratva Duet Books 1-2)

  Heirs to the Bratva Empire

  The Mafia Dons Collection

  The Don’s Corruption

  Jaded Soul

  A Standalone Irish Mafia Romance

  I SWORE I’D BE THERE TO CATCH HER. I NEVER SAID ANYTHING ABOUT LETTING HER GO.

  Thirteen years ago, I killed a man to protect her.

  She repaid me by ruining my life.

  I’m a different man now.

  Darker. Deadlier.

  And as the heir to the throne of the O’Sullivan mafia…

  I’m coming back to reclaim what’s mine.

  Not just my kingdom.

  Not just my crown.

  But her, too.

  So if Saoirse is hoping for a sweet reunion, she’d better think again.

  I didn’t beat death and exile just to kiss and make up.

  I came to show her what happens when you defy the don.

  JADED SOUL is a standalone second chance mafia romance. It follows Cillian O’Sullivan, the exiled black sheep of Ireland’s O’Sullivan crime family, as he returns home for the first time in thirteen years, and the girl he was forced to leave behind—Saoirse Connelly. This book can absolutely be read as a standalone, but you may want to begin with Book 1 in the Kovalyov Bratva series, GILDED CAGE.

  1

  Cillian

  TWELVE YEARS AGO—A DARK STREET ON THE OUTSKIRTS OF DUBLIN, IRELAND

  “Tá ocras fooking orm.”

  Translation: I’m fucking starving.

  Sean gives me a sidelong glare. His thick blond eyebrows knit together in a grimace.

  Another person might have been intimidated. But I’ve spent eighteen years seeing my brother scowl like that.

  I’m pretty sure it’s his love language.

  I shoot him a wink. “What? I am. It’s been almost three hours since dinner.”

  “This is serious,” Sean reminds me.

  I roll my eyes. “If it were serious, we’d have backup.” I make a big show of looking around the empty, shadow-strewn street. “Where’s Rory? Where’s Rhys? Where’s Collin?”

  “We don’t need anyone else,” Sean replies brusquely. “You and I can handle this.”

  “Yeah, we can handle this,” I agree, “because it’s a fucking rookie errand. Da probably wanted us out of the way for something or the other.”

  “Da doesn’t want us out of the way,” Sean retorts.

  He doesn’t offer up evidence to the contrary.

  He just says so. Like I’m supposed to believe him.

  There was a time I would have, too. Back when I worshipped the ground Sean walked on.

  I’m not a little tyke anymore. I don’t worship fucking anybody.

  But I do still love the grumpy ol’ bastard.

  That is, when he’s not holed up in his room or out of the house, trying to avoid the inevitability of his birthright as the oldest son of the O’Sullivan mafia don.

  “So then why send the crown prince to handle menial O’Sullivan business?” I counter. “Your Highness always manages to get out of the hands-on activities.”

  Sean spares barely a glanc
e in my direction. “It’s not menial.”

  I send a knowing smirk his way. “You’re being sent in to collect gambling debts from an old drunk, comrádaí,” I point out. “If that isn’t menial, I don’t know what is.”

  Sean gives me a long-suffering sigh. “Are you gonna talk the whole way there?”

  “I was planning on it, yeah.”

  “Jesus.”

  “Don’t take the Lord’s name in vain,” I say in a high-pitched warble, imitating our aging Aunt Clodagh.

  Usually, Sean would laugh.

  Tonight, his glower just intensifies.

  “He wants me to start taking the reins more,” he murmurs, almost to himself more than to me. “He wants me to take my responsibilities seriously. And that means I have to start from the bottom.”

  “Ooh, he’s grooming you.”

  I’m cracking myself up. Sean is just glaring at me, though.

  Everyone who knows my brother thinks he has no sense of humor.

  But that’s only because he has no fucking sense of humor.

  “He’s been grooming me my entire goddamn life,” he grumbles.

  “Cheer up,” I tell him, giving him a soft punch in the shoulder. “The job comes with perks. Perks that you’re clearly not taking advantage of.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means we could have driven to this little shithole, for starters,” I suggest. “In the Ferrari or the Mustang. Why the fuck are we walking?”

  “I like walking,” Sean replies simply.

  Jesus.

  I love my brother, of course. But he never relaxes. Never just enjoys shit. It’s always doom and gloom and responsibility.

  Big fuckin’ bore, sometimes.

  “What’s there to see?” I ask, looking around. “This place is a dump.”

  I’m dead-on about that much, at least.

  There’s cracked pavement under my feet and neglected houses dotting this forgotten little cul-de-sac at the very outskirts of the city. Overgrown weeds choking out the sidewalk. Trash bins full to bursting or tipped over and spilling garbage everywhere.

  “What do you expect?” Sean asks. “Padraig Connelly’s a bum and a drunk.”

  “Ah, so that’s it then. I was wondering why we were making this little run in the middle of the fucking night. When we should be sleeping. Or drinking. Or at least having a goddamn snack.”

  “Can you stop thinking about food for two fucking seconds?”

  “Hey, you promised me a road trip,” I say accusingly. “Snacks are part of the deal there.”

  I have to try really hard to hide my smile. I can already sense that I’m pushing Sean to his breaking point.

  Of course, Sean’s breaking point just means he shuts down and stops talking.

  And where’s the fun in that?

  “I promised you no such thing.” He sounds affronted by the very idea.

  I turn my laugh into a last-minute cough. “I distinctly remember. You barged into my room and said, ‘Oi, bro, you up for a fun road trip?’ To which I replied, ‘Dinner first.’”

  “I have never once referred to you as ‘bro’ in my entire fucking life.”

  This time, I can’t stop the laugh that escapes through my teeth. “For fuck’s sake, do I gotta beg?”

  He ignores that. “I believe what I said when I walked into your room this evening was, ‘Get dressed and come with me; we’ve got a job to do.’”

  “Po-tay-to, po-tah-to,” I tell him with a wide grin. “Which brings me back to my original point: you should have brought snacks.”

  “You scarfed down a full Irish,” Sean reminds me.

  “Fiona screwed me out of the black pudding. You got a bigger serving than I did.”

  I duck just before Sean’s fist makes contact with my arm. He’s always thrown a mean punch, but I’ve always been faster.

  I waggle my eyebrows at him in a taunt. “Better luck next time, bro.”

  He grumbles something that sounds a lot like “…motherfucker.”

  Then he clears his throat.

  “Did you bring your Glock?”

  “Yeah, yeah,” I reply with a nod. “Even though I can’t imagine why we’d need fucking guns to deal with a middle-aged alkie.”

  “Preparation, Cillian. We always come prepared to do our jobs.”

  Something about his tone draws my attention to his face.

  Underneath those intensely bushy eyebrows are dark brown eyes that set him apart from the rest of the family.

  The rest of us have light eyes in varying shades of blue. When we were kids, Ma liked to say that it was because Sean was special. He was different from the rest of us.

  And I tend to agree with that now. Sean probably would, too.

  The “different” part, that is.

  Not the special part. He’s the last person to ever claim to be special.

  “I’m always prepared,” I brag, flexing my muscles. “These are all the guns I’m ever gonna need.”

  “You joke too much, Cil,” Sean says with a sigh.

  “And you don’t joke enough, Sean,” I quip back. “Life doesn’t always have to be a fucking drag.”

  “Life is not always fun and games.”

  “But it can be. If you know how to play,” I say. “I assume that’s the reason you asked me to come with you today.”

  Sean frowns. “Eh?”

  “You knew this wouldn’t be any fun without me.”

  He rolls his eyes. “I asked you to come with me because when I become don, you will be my second.”

  The weight of all his responsibility is there in his words. Makes me fucking shiver, to be honest.

  But I’ve never had to carry that kind of burden. Nor have I wanted to.

  That’s the benefit of being the second son.

  “Yeah, sure, I’ll be your second. I’ll go to the parties you’d rather avoid. Fuck the women whose husbands you’d like to offend.”

  Sean sighs. Then he stops short and grabs my shoulder, forcing me to a halt. He looks at me with a troubled expression, one that betrays more than he’s willing to concede.

  “You’ve been protected so far,” he says in a measured voice. “But you’re eighteen now. You don’t have the luxury of doing whatever the hell you want anymore.”

  I square my shoulders. “I’ll step up when I need to. I’m no coward.”

  “You need to step up now,” Sean insists. “Right fucking now. You may not consider this a serious task, but our don gave us a command and we need to see it through. He’s counting on us.”

  I gulp back the quip on the tip of my tongue.

  I’ve seen that look in Sean’s eyes before. That dark, brooding look that’s telling me that now’s not the time for jokes.

  “I know,” I say quietly.

  “Do you?” Sean asks. “Because if not, you should leave now.”

  “Leave?”

  “Leave,” Sean underscores with a firm nod. “Go back home and have Fiona make you more black pudding. If you can’t do the job right, Cillian, then don’t do it at all.”

  I’m staring at my brother’s dark eyes.

  But for a moment—just one brief moment—I feel like I’m staring at my father.

  Da has the same quiet intensity. The same dangerous tenacity. He has the kind of gaze that breaks men before he even has to lift a finger.

  “I…”

  “What?” Sean asks when I fall silent without finishing my thought.

  “Nothing,” I mutter, turning back towards the open pavement and breaking his hold on me. “You just reminded me of Da there for a second.”

  “Jesus,” Sean mutters. “You coulda just said, ‘Fuck you.’”

  It takes me a second to realize he’s making what passes for a joke.

  For Sean, it was actually a pretty funny one, too.

  I smile.

  But I clasp him on the shoulder at the same time. No matter how much he fights it, my older brother does look like Da. And he’s
in line to become Da, when the time is right.

  I just worry some days that all that pressure is cracking his soul in two.

  We both let our hands slide away simultaneously. Turning, we continue our walk towards the darkened cul-de-sac.

  “Whatever happened to Orla, by the way?” I ask.

  Sean does a double take. “Did you just ask about Orla?” he demands incredulously.

  “Yeah, so?”

  He glances at me with complete bewilderment. “Orla and I ended things years ago,” he reminds me.

  “I know. I’m just saying. Everyone thought you were gonna marry her.”

  Sean makes a sound that could be a huff. It could also just be a grunt. And it could mean fucking anything.

  “She was that dark-haired girl with the curves—”

  “I remember,” he snaps at me.

  I hold up my hands. “Mea culpa. Didn’t sound like you did.”