All Chapters of Bought By The Irish Mafia Boss: Chapter 131 - Chapter 140

DeclanThe second Maya hangs up, I know I'm in trouble. Not because of Viktor. Not because of Cillian. Not because Liam is currently glaring at me like he wants to handcuff me to the hospital bed. Because of one sentence. ‘Come see me.’I shouldn't have said it. I know that. The problem is, I meant it. Every word. Every syllable. The silence that follows the call feels heavier than the conversation itself. I stare at my phone. At the dark screen. At my own reflection staring back. Christ. I've completely lost my mind.Liam is sitting in the chair across from me. Watching. The bastard has been watching me for the entire call. Not listening. Just watching. Which somehow feels worse. "How bad is it?"I look up. "What?"He points toward me."Whatever's happening in your head."I snort. Pain immediately shoots through my ribs. Fantastic. "Mind your business."“Aye." He nods. "That's usually how I know it's serious.

DeclanThe second Maya kisses me back, I forget every sensible thought I have ever had. Which, admittedly, isn't many. But still. They disappear. The hospital room disappears with them. The machines. The pain. The bandages. The bloody fact that I was nearly blown to pieces yesterday. None of it matters. Not when Maya is standing in front of me with her mouth on mine and her hands twisted in the front of my shirt like she's angry at me for still being alive.I kiss her again. Harder. Deeper. Greedier. Because once isn't enough. Twice isn't enough. A hundred times wouldn't be enough. Not after years of pretending. Years of watching her from across crowded race nights. Years of telling myself to walk away. Years of remembering the taste of her and acting as if I had forgotten.Maya makes a small sound against my mouth. Not soft. Not sweet. Frustrated. Like she hates how much she wants this. Good. At least I'm not suffering alone.Her fingers slide up my ches

DeclanMaya leaves. And somehow the room feels colder. Quieter. Emptier. I stare at the closed door long after she's gone, listening to the soft echo of her footsteps disappear down the hallway.For a few seconds, I let myself do something stupid. I let myself imagine she stayed. Not just tonight. Not just in this room. Stayed. With me. In my life. In my bed. In every dangerous corner of the world, I keep trying to pretend it doesn't belong to me.Then reality comes back. Hard. Because Maya isn't safe here. Not with me. Not with Cillian. Not with the Russians moving again. Not after Viktor Sokolov looked at her like she was more than a woman he wanted to date. Like she was useful.That thought kills whatever warmth she left behind. My jaw tightens. My hands curl against the blanket. Pain cuts through my ribs, sharp and brutal. Good. Pain is easier than feeling too much. The door opens again. Ronan slips inside first. He looks at me. Then at the bathroom d

DeclanI hate hospitals. I hated them three years ago. I hated them yesterday. And I definitely hate them now. Mostly because I should already be gone. Instead, I'm sitting on the edge of my hospital bed wearing my own clothes for the first time since the explosion while waiting for paperwork. Paperwork. The thing standing between me and freedom is paperwork. The entire situation feels insulting.My black t-shirt pulls slightly against the bandages wrapped around my ribs. The jeans hurt less than I expected. Still hurt. Everything hurts. But I don't care. Because I'm leaving. Finally. The only thing stopping me from enjoying the moment is Maya. Specifically, the fact that she hasn't answered a single message. Not one. Not since last night.I stare at my phone again. Nothing. No texts. No calls. No sarcastic comments. No threats. Nothing. The woman spent years driving me insane. Now she's doing it in silence. I send another message. “Answer your phone.&rdqu

DeclanWaiting is torture. I've been shot. Stabbed. Beaten. Blown up. And somehow sitting in this hospital waiting room feels worse than all of them. Maybe because I can't do anything. Maybe because every person I care about seems determined to put themselves in danger. Or maybe because Maya isn't answering her phone. Again.I sit forward in the plastic chair, elbows resting on my knees, my hands clasped tightly together. The position hurts. Everything hurts. The explosion left my body looking like it had lost a fight with a truck. The argument with Maya didn't help. Neither did sneaking her into my hospital room. Or watching her leave.The memory hits unexpectedly. Her standing by the door. Dark hair messy. Eyes soft. Looking at me like she wanted to stay. Looking at me like leaving hurts. Then her smile. Small. Private. Mine. Christ.I squeeze my eyes shut. Bad idea. Because now my brain immediately remembers her in my bed. Not the details. The feeling.