3. KILLIAN
The heaviness of this sweet girl’s despair fills the air like an impenetrable tension as she sits in the car beside me. Her hands curl into tight fists on her bare thighs to mask how they shake. She’s fucking terrified, but she can’t hide it from me. I know fear when I see it. I can sniff it out in any room. I’m drawn to it like a moth to a flame, and once I have it in the palm of my hand, I corrupt it.
I’ve never met a person I couldn’t break, and as for this innocent woman who just became mine? Well, fuck. Breaking her might be the best fun I’ll ever have.
I live and breathe off the fear I invoke. It’s like an illicit drug I’ve become addicted to, and the moment my gaze connected with hers across the warehouse, that potent fear within her spoke right to my soul. I knew I had to have her. I was going to make her mine, and when I set out to do something, I never fail. It’s not in my blood.
I’m not known for being a man who negotiates for the things I want. I take. Whether it’s by contract or force, and she is no exception to that.
It’s after two in the morning, and we still have a three-hour drive ahead of us. I turn to look at my new prize, letting my gaze sail over her face. There’s no denying how beautiful she is, even through the dirt and grime stained across her slim face and the blood matted in her long golden curls. There’s no telling how long she was held captive in that cage, but looking at her like this, it’s clear Ezekiel and his men didn’t exactly go to great lengths to take care of the women they traffic. But truth be told, the kind of men who were bidding on these women aren’t the type who care if a woman appears clean or not. They care about the assets of her body, how tight her cunt is, or just how loud they can make her scream in agony as they fuck her until she bleeds—a fate this mysterious beauty only narrowly escaped.
It’s not as though I’m any better. I plan to fuck her. All day and night if I could, but I’m a busy man, so luck is on her side. She will cater to me. My every need and desire will be her responsibility, but I’m not a fucking pig like the men back in that warehouse, and I will give just as eagerly as I receive.
I don’t know what possessed me to claim her. I don’t particularly care for having a pet, and judging by the fire in her eyes, she doesn’t strike me as the type to submit willingly. But she will. I’ll leave her no choice.
She’s going to be work, and probably a huge pain in my ass, and despite knowing this the moment I laid eyes on her, I still claimed her. I’m painfully aware of the fact that I require an heir to inherit my legacy in the event my life shall be taken from this world, though it’s still undecided whether she will be the one to bear my child.
All I know is that the moment our eyes collided across that filthy warehouse, I could sense her pure desperation. She was silently screaming for me to save her, and as those other bastards bid for what already belonged to me, I couldn’t stomach the idea of watching her being gifted to another man. Don’t get me wrong, had she been claimed by someone else, I would have still found her and slaughtered the pig who dared treat her as his own. However, letting it get that far only meant I was lining the pockets of Ezekiel and his asshole employees, and taking that payday away from them was a prize I simply couldn’t pass up.
Ezekiel and his men are the scum of the earth, and the second I no longer require them to run my drugs, they’ll be slaughtered like the animals they are. My cousin, Sergiu, insists that we keep them around, but turning a blind eye to their shit has been challenging. Considering everything they’ve got their toes dipped in, it’s clear they’re capable of keeping a tight lid on their business, but every time I walk in there and see it for myself, my skin crawls. If they weren’t such an integral part of my operation, I would have dealt with them long ago.
Most of the time, I’m able to turn a blind eye to the women Ezekiel traffics, but something about this woman caught my attention. I usually leave Sergiu to deal with business here, but Ezekiel needed a reminder about just how disposable he really is.
The question is, what the hell am I supposed to do with her now that she belongs to me?
Do I lock her in my cells to use as I see fit, or do I allow her freedom within my home?
My gaze drops down her body. The dried blood on her thigh and the fresh scratches and bruises decorating her skin are a clear indication of the mistreatment she received while in Ezekiel’s clutches. The very sight of her has me wanting to teach her how to ensure this bullshit never happens again. Though, I suppose there’s no need for that anymore. Not now that she belongs to me. Whether she likes it or not, my home is not a place she will ever escape. She will live under my roof from now until her dying breath, whether that be in peace or as a prisoner.
As my gaze trails back up to her face, I find her stare already on mine. There are a million questions in her lifeless green eyes, probably wondering what happens from here. “When was the last time you drank water?” I ask. She needs to maintain her energy if she is going to keep up with the demanding lifestyle that’s about to be thrust upon her.
She visibly swallows. “I, umm . . . can’t be sure,” she says in a quiet tone. Though something tells me the moment she finds her comfort within my home, that quiet tone will morph into a fierce demand, and that’s exactly what’s required of a woman in my world.
I nod, and as if on cue, my driver silently hands me a bottle of water. I quickly uncap it before passing it to her. She slowly takes it from me, but there’s a strong hesitation in her eyes, wondering if she should trust me, but she sips on the water anyway. Her body is far too deprived to resist.
She keeps that penetrating gaze on me, clearly not trusting me, but I don’t expect her to. I’m not her savior, and I’m sure as fuck not her hero. As long as she’s clear in that understanding, we’ll be good.
Realizing just how long this trip home is going to be if she’s incapable of relaxing, I dig into the pocket of my suit jacket and curl my hand around a small bottle of pills. Pulling it out, I open the cap, and with every passing second, I feel her gaze like laser beams trying to penetrate right through me.
Tipping a single pill into the palm of my hand, I hold it out to her, my brow arched with expectation. Only she doesn’t submit to my will, she simply stares at my hand with trepidation. She shakes her head. “What is that?”
“Take it. It will help you relax.”
“I don’t need to relax.”
“Take the damn pill. I will not ask you again.”
She clenches her jaw, anger flashing within those fearful eyes. “Do you think I’m stupid?” she questions, somehow seeming offended. “I take that pill, and in a few hours, I’ll wake up to find you and your driver tag-team raping me. No thanks, I’ll pass.”
I take a deep breath, willing myself to calm down. It’s one thing to have her fear me because of who I am, but it’s another to have her fear me out of distrust or foolishness. Shit like that is how men get killed. “I do not believe you are stupid,” I tell her, spitting the words with venom. “But let me get one thing straight. If I want to fuck you, which I will, I won’t need to knock you out first. I will take it just as surely as those men back in that warehouse would have. However, you are in luck because, unlike those assholes, unconscious women are not my thing. What kind of man do you take me for?”
“As far as I’m concerned, you’re the kind of man who purchases women who’ve been kidnapped and trafficked, and honestly, I think that tells me everything I need to know about the kind of man you are,” she mutters, disdain clear in her tone.
Ahh. So she’s just as feisty as she appears. I like that. I wonder if she’ll be quite so forward with that mouth of hers when I’m fucking it.
“You are right to question me. I am not a nice man, so believe me when I say this. If you don’t take this pill in the next two seconds, I will physically force it down your throat. Take your pick. Do you care to discover what it means to be on my bad side, or will you play it smart and do everything within your power to remain in my good graces?”
Her eyes flare with fire as she reaches out and finally takes the pill from my palm, and as she places it on the end of her tongue and closes her mouth, she refuses to break eye contact. I can practically hear her screaming thoughts as they’re aimed at me like venom-laced arrows, but her intimidation tactics won’t work here. I appreciate her attempt though. It’s rare when somebody has the balls to argue with me, and honestly, it’s refreshing. Stupid, but certainly refreshing.
She lifts the bottled water to her lips, and I watch with a keen stare as she swallows the pill. It’s strong and will take effect in a matter of seconds, and as the pill begins to dissolve in the pit of her stomach, her brows furrow, no doubt already feeling the drowsiness.
She holds my gaze, confusion flashing in those green eyes. “What’s happening?” she asks, her body steadily growing heavier. “What . . . What is this? What did you give me?”
“Rest your pretty head, Sweet Angel,” I murmur. “It’s a long drive.”
And just like that, she’s out cold.
Her head lolls to the side against the headrest. As I reach over her, my arm skims across her blazing skin, and the unexpected contact unleashes a rapid current of excitement that courses through me. My brows furrow, pausing just a moment to look over her face before swiftly ignoring it. I work my hand down beside the chair and find the lever before gently pulling it and reclining her chair. The second she appears comfortable, I remove my suit jacket and drape it over her lingerie-clad body to keep her warm.
As I settle back into my seat and prepare for the long drive ahead, I can’t help but watch her. There’s an innocence there, a softness in her face that suggests perhaps before she was stolen by Ezekiel’s men, she might have had an easy life. Perhaps been a college student just going about her day, or maybe she was newly graduated and trying to figure out where she belongs in this cruel world—something she will never have the chance to discover, not if I have a say in it.
We’ve been on the road for almost an hour when the sound of an incoming call fills the silence of the cab, and I let out a heavy sigh. It’s already been a long day. The last thing I want to deal with is business, but when you’re in my position, the luxury of having a choice isn’t something I come across often.
Realizing my phone is still in my suit jacket, I lean toward my new prize and fish it out of the pocket before checking that she’s still out cold. She likely will be for another hour or so.
Turning my attention to the phone, I glance down to see my cousin’s name across the screen. Sergiu is my second-in-command, and he’s the closest thing I have to a brother. However, given the chance, he would rip my beating heart right out of my chest and take it all for himself. It’s just who we are, who our grandfather raised us to be, and because of that, I’m the most dangerous man walking this earth.
Friends close. Enemies closer.
My name is Killian DeLorenzo, and I am the head of the DeLorenzo Mafia, a position I have more than earned. I am ruthless. Unforgiving. And because of this, our reputation has flourished with fear. Our competitors don’t stand a chance as long as I stand at the head of my family. And Sergiu? While he might be foolish enough to challenge me, he knows I’m his best chance of survival.
“What do you want, Sergiu?” I growl, frustrated that this rare moment of peace has been disturbed. “Do you have any idea what time it is?”
“Sorry, Killian. I thought it was best you heard this from me.”
“What?”
“There’s been a raid on our warehouse downtown. The place is a mess.”
Fuck. I mentally go over everything we have stored in that warehouse, and while it’s a pain in the ass, it’s not a complete loss. I have four warehouses spread across the state, and the one downtown that we use for distribution is our smallest. After a large shipment went out last week, anyone who dared raid my warehouse would have come up empty-handed.
“FBI?” I ask, wondering just how much trouble is about to come knocking on my door.
“No,” Sergiu says, his accent thickening with his rage. “This was no police raid. It was . . . messy.”
I nod, quickly going over my current list of enemies, competitors, or anybody else who’d be so fucking reckless as to steal from me. The only issue is that list is longer than the fucking Nile. “What did surveillance pick up?” I ask, my hand curling into a fist on my thigh.
“Nothing identifying yet. I have a team on it,” he explains. “Maybe ten or so men in black hoodies and balaclavas. They came prepared for a full house. Automatic weapons and trucks. They were clearly expecting to find product.”
“They take off with much?”
“Nothing that’s going to push back our schedule,” he says, knowing the exact answer I was looking for. “Perhaps 100k worth of E and a few of the weapons for the DeAngelis shipment next month.”
I let out a breath. Those DeAngelis brothers aren’t to be messed with, and I was honored when Roman wanted to work with me, but I’ll be damned if his shipment is anything less than perfect. I don’t often get in business with other mafia families, but like I said—friends close, enemies closer.
“Alright. We can work with that. Let me know once you’ve got something concrete,” I tell him. “I want to know exactly who these bastards are, and when we do, I want their fucking heads. Nobody steals from me.”
“Yes, boss.”
“How many casualties?”
“Twenty-three,” he says, his tone dipping with heaviness. “Most of the workers were able to run or hide, but these assholes were brutal.”
“I want a list of names and contact numbers for their next of kin,” I tell him. “We’ll cover funeral expenses, but Sergiu, when I tell them we’re going to find the bastards who did this and make them pay, you better fucking come through.”
“Of course, Killian.”
“Cops are going to swarm the warehouse soon enough,” I remind him, though I’m sure he’s already on it. “I want a team down there to clear out anything left behind, and make it fast. The last thing we need is to hand the FBI more ammunition against us.”
“Already on it,” he says. “How’d things go with Ezekiel? That asshole still in line?”
“For now,” I admit, pressing my lips into a tight line as my gaze shifts to the sleeping beauty beside me. “I want him watched. He’s getting too cocky with his side businesses. It was too loud. He’s been inviting all sorts to his auctions, and I don’t like it. Too many witnesses looking around.”
“Speaking of Ezekiel’s auctions and having too many people,” Sergiu says. “I’ve heard whispers from tonight.”
“What kind of whispers?”
“That you made a rare appearance and claimed some whore for yourself.”
My jaw clenches, not approving of the casual way he called her a whore. None of the girls in Ezekiel’s cages should be classified as whores. They didn’t ask for this, and if they had their way, I’m sure they would have chosen to be anywhere but there.
Sensing I don’t plan to respond, Sergiu goes on. “I think it’s great. Once you’re through with her, I’ll happily take her off your hands. You know how I like them young.”
“Why don’t you fuck your wife instead and keep your nose out of my business?”
Sergiu laughs. “Just messing around with you, boss. But should I assume this new girl is going to be a permanent fixture?”
“Haven’t decided,” I admit. “Until then, I want every detail you can find on Chiara Matthews. Birth certificate, school records, employment. I want to know the last time she ordered takeout, and once you have it all, scrub her from existence. I don’t want a single trace of her leading back to me.”
“Right away.”
“I want it on my desk first thing in the morning.”
And with that, I end the call and put my phone down, wondering just how much trouble my new little prize is going to be.