Deviant Hearts: A Dark Enemies To Lovers Mafia Romance

The day after the wedding, there’s a big sit-down breakfast-slash-strategy discussion thing at the Kildare home—a stunning, stately six-story brownstone on the Upper East Side, just off Central Park.

Nico Drakos isn’t the only one who jumped at the opportunity to seize his piece of the American Dream.

Lachlan Kildare, Cillian’s great-grandfather, made his coin the old-fashioned way: by carving it out of the ground one blood-soaked inch at a time, and occasionally cracking a few skulls.

Lachlan came from a long line of Irishmen who’d clawed their way out of the Five Points in what became Lower Manhattan back when the whole city was basically run by warring tribes—Irish, English, Scot, Italian, even some Greeks. But he, like Nico Drakos, was a smart motherfucker.

When Lachlan’s crew took over a block, or started working a protection racket for a new shop or factory, he didn’t gamble the money away or spend it on women and booze. At least, not all of it. He was smart enough to stick most of it into the stock market, where he made an absolute fucking killing on metal commodities when WWI broke out.

But when the economy tanked on Black Tuesday, kicking off the Great Depression, Lachlan lost it all.

So he did the only logical thing a man could do.

He robbed a US Treasury building.

At least, that’s the rumor. But it’s the only way to explain him losing literally everything, and then suddenly having enough money to buy an entire building in the ritziest neighborhood in the city, during a world-wide economic catastrophe, with cash, no less.

Whatever the actual story is, the Kildare residence is fucking beautiful. I mean yeah, where I grew up is literally an English country manor, moved brick by brick to New York. But this place screams old money. Dark wood, bronze and marble everywhere, exquisite old-school craftsmanship. It’s Gilded Age perfection, and I’m frankly more than a little envious.

Neve and I arrive in a chauffeured black SUV—bulletproof, after the shit that went down yesterday—with an armed escort in the car behind us.

We ride in silence. In fact, she’s barely said shit to me since last night. And in the silence, I sit in the back seat of the SUV replaying every filthy detail of our first night together as husband and wife.

Goddamn, what a night. I’ve never once fucked like that, ever. I mean, I do usually play on the rougher side. But there’s something about Neve’s defiance, or the way she throws shit back in my face, or maybe it’s just the way she seems utterly unfazed by me, that brings out the fucking animal in me.

Fucking her was…raw, and wild. And unlike any woman I’ve ever known before. Being with Neve was like combining two radioactive elements and watching the explosion.

And honestly, I’m fucking hooked now.

It’s like every single inch of her was custom-built to hit every single button I have—even the ones I didn’t know about.

Her soft, lithe body, curved in all the right places. Creamy skin, dotted with freckles. An ass I could—and absolutely plan to—sink my fucking teeth into. Tits perfect for my hands and my lips. A mouth begging to be tamed, or silenced with my own. Or fucked, like the bad girl she is.

And her pussy…Christ.

A vagina has no business being that fucking perfect, like it was tailor-made to snugly squeeze my cock to within an inch of his life. Every thrust was a fight to hang on tight, not to give in and come too soon because it felt so fucking good.

In short, by the time we arrive at the Kildare residence in utter silence, I’m hard as a fucking rock again.

Inside, Neve immediately leaves, wandering off into the house, saying something about finding her sister. Minutes later, as Cillian and I are beginning to discuss strategy and how we’re going to proceed after yesterday’s attack, Hades arrives, followed directly by Kratos and Calliope.

Callie gives me the briefest of nods before heading upstairs to find Neve and Eilish. Hades clears his throat, his face lined, angry, and tired as he sweeps his gaze over the rest of us. He’s been up all night with a couple of carloads of Drakos men, quietly dropping in on any poor bastard he thinks might have any knowledge about yesterday’s attack.

“Seriously, no one’s got anything?” he growls.

Cillian clears his throat. “Things are in motion.”

“Things are in motion?” my brother snaps. “I’ve been out all fucking night kicking in doors and busting heads, and you’ve got things in motion?! The fuck is that supposed to mean?”

I glare at him.

“Easy,” I hiss.

Cillian smiles, and I’m struck again by the venomous emerald glint in his eyes—that sort of weird, psycho off-kilter way he always seems to be looking through people, not at them.

I’m not gonna lie. I might not be scared of Cillian, necessarily. But he still creeps the fuck out of me.

“It means,” Cillian growls quietly. “That things are in motion. Should I choose to divulge more, I will. If not?” His lips curl dangerously in the corners. “Then you’ll shut your fucking mouth and not ever speak to me in that way again, or I’ll cut your tongue out and have it fried up with my morning eggs. Do we understand each other?”

Hades looks like he wants to keep this shit up, even with me glaring venom at him. Luckily, a subtle kick to the shin from Kratos, standing next to him, shakes him into reality.

“I…didn’t sleep much,” Hades mutters.

Cillian clears his throat. Apparently, that’ll suffice as an apology.

“Breakfast is laid out in the conservatory upstairs. There’s even coffee, for those of us who stayed up a little past their bedtime,” he adds pointedly, smiling thinly at Hades.

Thankfully, my brother ignores the bait.

We all follow Cillian upstairs, where I peel off to use the bathroom. After I’m done and I’m exiting, shaking my hands dry, I suddenly run right into a wall.

Or rather, a wall runs right into me. A blond, ticked-the-fuck-off wall.

I grit my teeth, snarling as Castle grabs me by the collar and slams me into a wall.

“You’ll want to take your hands off me two fucking seconds ago,” I hiss.

“Yeah?” he snaps viciously, glaring death at me. “You don’t like it when people lay hands on you?”

I frown.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“What’s wrong with me?!” He snarls, shoving close. “What’s wrong with me is you laying your fucking hands on Neve.”

My brows knit as I stare at him in complete confusion.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Married less than twenty-four fucking hours, and you’re already smacking her around?” His lips curl into a snarl. “And then you have the audacity to show up here thinking I’m not going fucking kill you for it?”

Okay, I’m seriously confused.

“First,” I snap, “you need to remove your fucking hands from me. Second, I haven’t the slightest idea what you’re talking about.”

I frown. Fuck. Is this her next bright idea? Lie to her overprotective bodyguard that I’ve been hitting her, so he’ll come break my knees?

“Did Neve say something to you?”

“She didn’t have to,” Castle spits. “I fucking saw the marks you left on her, motherfucker.”

I frown in puzzlement. “The marks I left on—”

I freeze, and suddenly, it’s taking all my power not to grin.

“Her neck,” I mutter quietly. “You saw marks on her neck.”

Castle’s face goes livid. “Damn right I did. And if you think that’s fucking funny—”

“Maybe it’d be best if you stopped sticking your nose into what two married consenting adults do behind closed doors.”

He blinks. And then suddenly, the lightbulb goes on over his head. He makes a face, wrinkling his nose as his hands suddenly drop from my shirt.

“Huh.”

“Yeah, huh,” I mutter back, adjusting my collar.

Castle glares at me. I smile thinly back.

“What’s the matter, Castle? Jealous?”

I doubt it. But this is something I’ve been wondering about, and I have to know. Fake or not, Neve is my fucking wife now. And I’d very much like to know if the burly, fairly handsome motherfucker who’s been protecting her all these years has been doing so merely because it’s his job, or because he wants to get in her panties.

I have my answer instantly, though, when his face scrunches up in obvious distaste.

“Christ, no, you fuckin’ pervert. I was just concerned because she’s basically my kid sister.”

I push the point.

“You positive? Sure it’s not a little crush, Castle? Not the teensiest bit jealous that I got to go places you’ve only—”

He snaps, more viciously than I was expecting. I grunt as he his hands wrap around my neck, slamming me back against the wall.

“You’re talking about a woman who is basically my sister,” he snarls. “So shut the fuck up and show a little fucking respect, you deviant little fuck—”

“Castle?”

He stiffens, both of us yanking our heads around to see Eilish standing there, staring at us like we’ve both gone insane.

“What the hell is going on?”

“Nothing.”

Castle’s hands drop from my neck. He clears his throat as he steps away from me.

“Nothing, Eils. Just a friendly disagreement.”

“Friendly?” Her voice is dripping with sarcasm.

I shrug.

“Yep, completely friendly,” Castle mutters.

“Okay, well, my uncle is looking for both of you. So…come get some breakfast.”

She gives Castle a strange look before turning and disappearing again around the corner.

“You’re a fucking asshole, you know that?” he grunts at me.

“Oh, so it’s the younger sister you’ve got a hard-on for—”

This time, I’m ready for him and I dodge the wild haymaker he throws at me—barely, I’ll grant him that. I turn on him, lips pulling into a snarl as I shrug off my jacket and bring my hands up.

“You wanna dance, motherfucker?” I growl.

“Oh, believe me, I’ve been dying for ages to knock your smug fucking teeth down your—”

“What the actual fuck?!”

Shit. Both of us whirl at the sound of Neve’s voice this time. She stands with her fists on her hips, glaring at both of us.

“Are we done with the macho dick-measuring contest? Because that would be great.”

Castle scowls, glaring at me.

“You tell me, pretty-boy,” he grunts. “Are we done here? You done playing games trying to figure out where my loyalties are, or what my fucking intentions are towards the two young ladies I’ve guarded with my life since they were children, you fuckin’ weirdo?”

I blink. And suddenly, I realize how far past the line all of that just went. And it all stemmed from this crazy idea of Castle lusting after Neve.

Which is clearly and obviously not a thing.

So why the fuck did it rile me up so much?

Why the hell did I just go all alpha caveman on Castle, who’s obviously an ally—and a good one—when it comes to Neve?

I frown, blowing air through my lips.

“Yeah,” I mutter, sticking my hand out. “We’re done.”

Castle eyes me. I shrug. “Sorry. I just…” my eyes dart to Neve, then back to him.

He nods subtly, firmly shaking my hand and then bringing me in for a clap on the back. He lingers for a second, his mouth near my ear, on the far side from where Neve is standing glaring at us so she can’t hear.

“We’re on the same side, friend. We both just want her safe, yeah?”

I nod. “Yeah.”

“Good.”

He slaps me on the back once more, then pulls away and smiles at Neve as he claps his hands together.

“All right, where’s this famous breakfast? I’m starving.”

He walks off, leaving Neve and I alone. She levels a withering gaze at me.

“Really?”

“Really what?”

“You’re jealous of Castle?”

“I’m not jealous,” I grunt. My finger darts between us. “Not real, remember? Don’t even share a bed.”

Neve rolls her eyes. And without another word, she stalks off.

Okay, seriously.

Fuck married life.

After breakfast, and a lengthy talk about beefing up security at the main Kildare residence, the Drakos estate, and my penthouse, and even more talks about possible leads into whatever the fuck happened at the wedding, we all go our separate ways. Neve and Eilish head into the library, along with my sister.

Kratos has some people he wants to talk to in Brooklyn in person, so he takes off. Castle disappears with Cillian into his study to make some calls, leaving me alone at the breakfast table nursing a coffee next to Hades.

“So,” my brother grins wolfishly at me. “How was the wedding night?”

“Fuck off.”

He chuckles. “Don’t get me wrong, they’re fun, but maybe lay off the neck bites when there’s going to be a family breakfast the next morning. Pro tip: if Dimitra saw that shit, she’d take a shoe to your ass.”

I roll my eyes. “She’s my goddamn wife, Hades. One, shut up. Two, show a little fucking respect.”

“Just trying to save your sorry ass from Ya-ya.” He shrugs, sipping his coffee before he turns and glances into the library. Neve and Callie are looking at what appear to be wedding pictures on Callie’s phone, judging from the running commentary. Eilish strolls over and leans over the arm of the couch to take a look, causing her skirt to rise up a bit more than maybe she’d like it to if she knew Hades was ogling her.

“Well, hello.”

I glare at my brother, grabbing his chin and yanking his face back to me.

“Hey! Hands off, dick.”

“I’ll take my hands off you if you keep your eyes off Eilish.”

He arches a brow. “And why is that?”

“Because she’s your fucking family now, you degenerate.”

“Not really.”

“Hades…”

He chuckles, shaking his head and patting my knee.

“Relax. She’s not my type, anyway.”

“I was under the impression ‘has a pulse’ was your type.”

Hades clasps his heart, wincing dramatically.

“No, but honestly, I’m not hounding after your wife’s sister. Chill. She’s too damn innocent, anyway. Clean and sweet is a turn off for me, you know that.”

I roll my eyes, standing as I finish the rest of my coffee.

“And you, brother?” Hades grunts. “Is Neve your type?”

I don’t answer, just give him a sharp look before I turn and head off to find Cillian in his office.

No, she’s not.

But she’s still mine.

And I crave more.