Love isn’t what makes this world spin. Money does. Power does. Everything else is considered details. Everything else is insufficient.
At least, I thought so.
Until her lips met mine, and the entire fucking world stopped. That kiss is the only thing I’ve been able to think about. Watching her study was torturous. I wanted nothing more than to slam her against the shelf again and slide between her legs, showing her what life with me could be like.
I’ll give her pleasure.
I’ll give her pain.
I’ll give her everything she fucking craves.
Anything she wants. Whatever she asks for. I’ll give it to her.
If she thought I was intense before, if she thought I was possessive and controlling, I’m unhinged now. I’m addicted.
She won’t ever be able to escape me. I’ll hunt her down and bring her home if she tries to. She is meant to be at my side. A king needs a queen, and Delilah deserves the throne.
My cock has been stone since that heated, forbidden kiss in the library, and I know she must be in need too.
Delilah is in bed now, sleeping soundly, and I lean against the wall, arms crossed over my chest, thinking of how she hasn’t spoken to me since our kiss. And she went to bed without kissing me, breaking the contract we agreed upon.
I won’t be able to lie with her for a few hours. I have business I need to attend to, but I still want my kiss.
“Carmine.” Matias peeks his head into the room. “We’re ready.”
“Give me five minutes,” I say to him, never taking my eyes off Delilah.
He nods, closing the door to leave me alone with the woman who has taken over every aspect of my mind. I push off the wall and lean over her, my fingers brushing the hair out of her face.
“Delilah,” I whisper, wanting to wake her up gently. “Sweetling, wake up.” I brush my lips across her ear and kiss her cheek. Finally, she shifts and stretches her arms over her head.
“Carmine?” My name sounds drugged from how sleepily she is. “What’s wrong?”
“You forgot something,” I remind her, rolling her onto her back.
“What?”
“I want my goodnight kiss. You went to sleep without giving it to me, and I really want my fucking kiss,” I say, skimming the tip of my nose across hers. I want her lips again, before I must deal with the real world.
Her eyes widen, suddenly wide awake, and she sits up, rubbing her eyes. “I’m sorry. I was tired; I didn’t fall asleep to ignore it—”
I press my finger against her lips to silence her. “It’s okay. I need to go somewhere, Delilah. Before I go, I need you to kiss me goodnight.”
“Where are you going?”
“There’s work that needs to be done,” I say without context, not wanting to let her know. She already thinks so little of me. I don’t want to give her extra ammunition. I keep my voice easy and gentle, not wanting to cause her any panic. I want her to remain calm and sleepy—she’s beautiful like that.
“Carmine, what is it? What’s going on? Is it my father?”
I shake my head and kiss her forehead. “No, Sweetling. Your father is safe. Always. You have my word on that.”
“Then why do you need to leave in the middle of the night? Come to…” She swallows, unsure if she wants to finish her sentence. “Come to bed.” She scoots over and pats my side of the bed. “I promise I won’t leave in the morning. Is that what this is about? That I’ll leave?”
She sounds so damn sleepy, and it’s making me feel those things I don’t want to feel. I think any good I have inside me, anything worth saving will be only for Delilah.
What’s she doing to me? I can’t afford to get soft. I have too many enemies. My job consists of having my blood on my hands and wiping them clean as if the murder had never happened.
“No, Sweetling, no, and even if you did, you know I’d find you. You can’t get far.” I brush my knuckles down her hot, flushed cheeks, the pillowcase imprint indented into her skin, and I find it charming because she looks so at home. “Remember the kind of man I am. I have business I have to attend to,” I remind her, staring into her innocent emerald irises.
I wait for her to be repulsed, to fight me, but she places her hand on my cheek and leans forward.
“Then you’ll come to bed?” she asks, pressing a soft kiss against my lips. There’s no urgency or lust like there was in the library. It’s a long, tender peck, and I find myself being pulled into her, cupping the back of her head to apply more pressure.
I break the kiss, then press my forehead to hers before standing. I don’t know what’s gotten into me. I’m a different man at night now, knowing she’s in my bed. “And then, I’ll come to bed.”
“Okay,” she whispers.
“Go on, lie back down.” I ease her back, fluffing the pillow under her head and bringing the blanket to her chin. “Rest. I’ll be in soon.”
“Be careful,” she mutters, eyes already falling shut. “You’re not as bad as you think you are.” Her whispered words come out slower, as if she’s losing the energy to speak.
“You’re wrong,” I say, sitting on the edge of the bed and hanging my head. My elbows are on my knees, and exhaustion settles in my bones. “I’m worse,” I correct her, but she doesn’t say anything in return. Her steady, even breaths tell me she’s fast asleep.
With one last look at the woman who I’m forcing to marry me, I stroll out of the room, closing the door as quietly as I can.
Victor is standing on the other side, his back against the wall, stoic and at attention.
“Nothing happens to her; do you understand me? If I come back and she’s injured, I’m going to kill you,” I warn him.
He doesn’t blink or flinch. Victor nods. “She’ll be safe, Mr. Milazzo.”
“She better be.” I don’t trust anyone else with her, not even my best men. I will only know she’s truly safe as long as she is by my side.
When I get to the end of the hall, Gianni, Ari, and Matias are waiting for me. They are my most trusted. They are my inner circle, but I try my best to care for anyone working for me.
“Where is he?” I ask, renewed energy coiling through my soul like a serpent.
“Here.” Gianni gestures with his chin toward the couch.
Nicky, Alex, and a few others surround me, men who are my runners, for the most part, delivering messages, figuring out trade spots, cleaning crew, etc.
I step into the living room and walk around the couch, surprised when I see a kid who can’t be older than nineteen.
“What the fuck is this?” I point to the teenager sitting on my couch, half beaten and pale. “I said I wanted insight. I wanted proof. This is not proof.”
“The kid is the proof,” Ari says, flipping a switchblade in his hand. “And we didn’t do that to him. We found him like that. He was on our way when we were was heading to the docks. He says he has intel to help us move in and stake that territory once and for all.”
I crouch and tilt my head, staring at the kid who has his arms wrapped around himself. His eyes are cast on the floor, and he won’t look at anyone. He’s soaking wet from the rain outside, quietly pelleting against the roof.
And he’s on my fucking couch.
Wet.
I’ll deal with it later.
“Do you know where you are?” I ask him, and he remains silent, still staring at the floor. “Look at me,” I bite, my patience wearing thin. “I said fucking look at me!”
Finally, he lifts his head. The whites of his eyes are red from the abuse he took before coming here. He’s shivering with goosebumps along his skin, and he rubs his hands up and down his arms. I snap my fingers. “Get him a blanket and start a fire.”
Nicky tosses the blanket over the kid’s shoulders, and the whoosh behind me with the heat tells me Ari has started the fire.
The kettle on the stove whistles. Marie is in the kitchen making tea. She pours honey into the steaming mug and stirs it, the ceramic and metal clinking together.
Ari chuckles behind me, and Nicky smiles then ducks his head when he sees my annoyed expression. I’m trying to interrogate someone, and Marie is making tea.
She holds the mug out in front of her and carefully moves her feet, so she doesn’t spill the scalding liquid.
I rub my temples and check the time.
It’s two in the morning. I wanted to get this interrogation done and bury the body—if I needed to—before three.
Selfishly, I want to crawl into bed with Delilah. Not that I’d ever say that out loud. That fact is for me and me only.
“Here you go, dear,” she says, handing the boy the cup of tea.
“I didn’t realize we entertained the enemy, Marie,” I say, letting my annoyance show.
She turns to me and glares. “We do when they are just children. He is cold and soaking wet. Where are your manners? He’d talk easier in some dry clothes. The poor thing. He’s been through it. Can’t you tell?”
Marie rarely takes the time to tell me how she feels or what she thinks. She typically stays quiet, but right now, in her frilly apron tied around her back, her concerned eyes staring daggers at me, I realize she’s in mother mode.
Now, all the attention is on me.
The kid sips the tea and sighs, wincing when he licks the wound on his lip.
“Christ.” I tuck my hands in my pockets and motion for Ari. “Get him some of your clothes.”
“You can’t be serious. He’s not—” Ari is silenced when Marie cuts her stare to him, and he sighs, giving in. “Fine. I’ll be back. Unbelievable,” he mumbles as he heads down the steps. “We are Milazzo’s. We do not get fucking tea and clothes…” his voice trails off until none of us can hear him.
The slurping of tea has me looking down at the kid, and Marie is wrapping him up in the blanket as if he’s a baby.
“Okay, enough of this. This isn’t a fucking hotel.” I take the cup from his hands and set it on the table. Marie goes to say something, but one look from me, knowing my patience is up, and she quiets. “Kid, what’s your name.”
He’s still shivering, and he eyes the fire. “Can I sit close to the fire?”
“Sure, dear. Come on.” Marie wraps her arm around his shoulder and helps him up.
I lift my arms in frustration, letting my guest get treated like family. “Are you warm and cozy now? Can we get started? I’m two seconds away from saying fuck it, pulling out my gun and putting it right between your eyes,” I tell him. “Marie is kind, and she will be the only kindness you experience here. You are nothing to me, kid. Do you understand that?”
He readjusts the blanket around himself and laughs. “You think I don’t know that? I didn’t mean anything to him either. I’m used to it—being unwanted. There’s nothing you can say to me that will scare me.”
I reach behind my back and pull my gun out from my waistband. Scratching my eyebrow with the barrel, I try to calm down. “Let’s start over. What’s your name? Why were you coming to see me?”
“You won’t kill me, right? I didn’t do anything. I swear. I was done with the Romanos. I wanted fair treatment, that’s all. I wasn’t going to snitch. I wasn’t, but I’m tired of being their punching bag. I can’t take it anymore.”
My heart…does something odd. It twinges. The parts I’ve let die are coming back to life. I find that I care this kid has been hurt, and I wouldn’t have before if it weren’t for Delilah. I can’t let it show.
“What’s your name?” I ask again, hating that I need to repeat myself.
“Ryan Romano,” he answers, flicking his eyes from me to the floor.
“You’re Ray Romano’s kid?” I jerk back, my instincts telling me this could all be a setup.
“I was—I’m not—I mean—No,” he says, lifting a shoulder. “He learned I wasn’t his son. My mother had an affair. He found out today.”
“We have that in common,” Ari decides to chime in.
I spread my arms out, questioning why he was speaking.
“What? I’m just saying. Our Dad was the same way. We have different moms.” He points between us.
“Could you give any more of our personal information out to a stranger?” Matias slaps him on the back of the head for me, reading my mind. I drag my attention back to Ryan.
“Ow.” Ari rubs the spot Matias hit. “I’m trying to find common ground.”
“Anyway,” I’m getting too tired for this bullshit, “my men were on their way to our docks, picking up merchandise, and that’s where they ran into you, correct?”
“Yes, Mr. Milazzo,” he says, his gaze flicking onto his cup of tea.
Feeling generous, I hand it back to him.
“Thank you,” he says.
“My dad—Mr. Romano—” He corrects himself but doesn’t sound too upset about it. “He beat me, calling me a bastard, saying I didn’t belong. They hit me until I passed out, but when I woke up, I heard them talking. They said someone is getting close to you to find out more information. They know about Delilah. Their informant has seen you with her.”
“Are you saying I have a rat in my organization, Ryan?”
“I-I don’t know,” he stutters. “Romano didn’t clarify if the person was in your home. So, I listened to their conversation and found out they planned to take her and sell her to one of their overseas connections. There is a boat coming, I don’t know when, but usually, the boats carry drugs, weapons, sometimes animals, people.” He says the last word quietly because it’s atrocious to trade people and animals in my book.
I’m in weapons and drugs.
My men distribute and sell, but I sell most drugs to motorcycle clubs or high-end casinos for their VIPs.
“They plan on having her on one of those boats. They will come after you when you’re distracted and looking for her and claim your territory. They want the south docks for themselves.”
They know if they ever got the south docks, they would get east and west too. Romano has never liked that I have more traction than him, a stronger hold on the community. Especially when it comes to law enforcement. No matter their job, people will do anything for money if it means providing for their families.
We are all the same on the inside. We always want more. If anyone becomes desperate enough, they will sell their soul to me, and money won’t ever have to be an issue for them again.
But wealth doesn’t come for free—Delilah’s position is the perfect example of that.
“And what do they expect to do with her?” I ask through gritted teeth, thinking about who could want Delilah. I’ve run background checks on all her friends. Every person in this house has been cleared, so someone is outsmarting me, and I don’t like it.
“They want to show you they are stronger. They will auction her off first, and then she’ll get on the boat, drugged, and you’ll never see her again.”
I launch myself at the kid, a hand wrapped around his throat, and the mug drops to the floor, tea spilling everywhere.
“I will burn everything to the ground that threatens her. They won’t live to see their attempt.”
“It’s why I’m here. I’m telling you everything,” he gasps through the hold I have on him. “I swear, I’m not lying. His plan revolves around her. After everything he did to me, I didn’t want to stay there a second longer. I thought—” he licks his lips, “I thought maybe I could have a chance here.” He trembles under my grasp and stares at Ari, his eyes filling with tears. “I swear, I’m not the enemy. I swear,” he promises. “I have dealt with too much. You have no idea…you don’t know what they have done to me. You don’t know how long it’s been going on for, please,” he begs, gripping my hand for dear life, his fingernails biting into my skin. “If not, just kill me because I can’t take it anymore.”
Marie gasps, the implication of what has been done to him is not difficult to figure out. He doesn’t need to say the words. I let go of his throat, staring at him with sympathy. I’m a monster in many ways. I kill. I steal. I threaten.
I torture.
But I do not hurt, take advantage of, or touch children.
That’s another level of monster, not even I would dare touch. It’s repulsive.
“Please,” he begs, seemingly so much younger than nineteen. Tears roll down his cheeks. “Please, just kill me; I don’t want to return.” The plea of a man who has given up.
Marie takes his hand, and I know I will be taking in another stray. Most of the men here stumbled upon me, asking for a chance to prove themselves if they could just be part of something bigger.
“I’m not going to kill you, kid. You’re going to tell me everything you know about Romano, though. I don’t trust you.”
“I know,” he says quickly. “I’m willing to do anything to earn your trust. I don’t have anywhere else to go. This life, it’s the only one I know and—”
“Someone just tripped the security alarm,” Gianni says, grabbing the tablet from the counter. “We have uninvited guests.” He tosses the tablet at me, and I see a few men dressed in black circling my house to try to find the best way in. “Do you want me to activate protocol?”
“No,” I grit my teeth. “Silencers on your guns, no alarms. I don’t want them to know we know.” I point the gun at Ryan’s head. “Did you bring them here? Was this a setup? You better tell the truth because your life depends on it.”
“I don’t know. I swear I don’t know.” He huddles against Marie. “They don’t know I’m here. I wouldn’t do that. I wouldn’t put anyone at risk. I didn’t hear anything about them trying to come here tonight.”
“Where’s your phone?”
“What?” He asks, patting his pockets.
“Your phone. Give it to me.” He tosses it to me, and I throw it on the ground, smashing it with my foot. “They’ve tracked him here. They probably want you back or want to kill you. You know too much.”
Pure terror falls over his face. The color drains from his skin, and I know the kid is genuine. He wants safety after a lifetime of abuse.
“Matias, I want you to take him to the panic room. Him and Delilah, do you understand? I want Victor with them. And they better be alive when all this is said and done.”
Matias nods, grabbing the kid by his arm and tugging him to his feet.
“Thank you. Thank you. I swear, I won’t disappoint. I’m good. I’ll be good, I swear,” he chants as he is dragged away, thankful for his life, but the words sound like he has said them too many times.
“Poor kid,” Nicky says, lighting a cigarette before getting his gun out. “He’s had it tough.”
“Tougher than most,” I say, checking how many bullets I have. “Marie, go with them. I don’t want anything happening to you either. Stay there until I say otherwise.”
“Yes, Mr. Carmine,” she says, scurrying away.
I crack my neck and walk through the cloud of smoke Nicky blows out. We have people to kill and bodies to deliver to the enemy.
There’s no time to waste.
