Darkest Sin: A Dark Mafia Romance

6. KILLIAN

Hot water cascades around me as I brace my hand against the shower wall. My other hand grips my cock in a fucking chokehold, furiously jerking off.

I expected a lot of things from my new prize, but what she just did on that fucking stage . . . I wasn’t ready.

She truly is a sweet angel.

I’ve been with plenty of women, each of them rare in their own way, but never have I come across a woman so confident in herself or so sure about what she wants and how to get there. The way she wanted me despite her declaration of independence. The way she begged me to touch her, to fuck her, and the soft pleasure-filled moans that slipped from her lips. God, I wanted her, and if I had crept just an inch closer, I would have bent her over that fucking stage and fucked her until she screamed, but there will be time for that, and believe me, I will have my way with her.

I won’t stop until I’ve felt the warmth of her cunt squeezing around me and the way she comes undone and shatters as I thrust inside of her. I know it’s going to be worth the wait.

When I fuck her, when I take her on her knees and bend her over, I need her to be ready for me, and while she was desperate to feel my touch tonight, she wasn’t ready. I need her well-rested and fed. She needs to wash away the filth from Ezekiel’s warehouse and restore the energy she lost during her confinement, otherwise, she won’t possibly keep up. When I fuck her, it will be all night. She won’t just scream for more, she will ache for it, she will beg until her throat is raw, and I will oblige her every need. But most of all, I need to know how she tastes, or just how far I can push her before she breaks—and she will. I will break her every fucking night, over and over until she can’t take another fucking second.

The scent of her arousal in the air almost brought me to my knees. It’s ingrained in my memory, and as I furiously pump my thick cock up and down, I need to smell it again. My jaw clenches, already knowing that no amount of pleasure I give to myself is ever going to compare to how it would feel being inside her. The way her petite fingers pushed inside her tight little cunt and massaged her walls made my hands ball into fists at my sides. I’ve never felt such an overwhelming or desperate need to take what’s mine and claim every inch of her. I need to see the way her creamy skin reddens beneath my fierce touch, see the way her cheeks hollow out as she takes my cock deep in her throat. But nothing compares to the moment she lifted her fingers to her lips and told me just how hard she needed to be fucked. It was my undoing.

She’s going to be such a good girl. She’ll be the perfect whore for me, on her knees at my command.

A loud groan tears from the back of my throat as my fist tightens around my cock, and as I replay the memory of my sweet angel pushing her fingers deep inside her cunt, my balls tighten, and I shatter, shooting hot spurts of cum across my opulent shower.

I lean against my hand that’s braced on the tiles, hanging my head as the high rocks through me. The water cascades over my face, but all I can do is stand here, gripping my dick as I try to calm myself.

The last thing I expected from this girl was to get me wound up like this. Don’t get me wrong, she’s fucking beautiful. I knew it the moment I laid my eyes on her. But when her fear begins to fade and she can look at me with confidence, she’ll be fucking radiant. I knew I would enjoy her body, but it’s the small snippets of her personality that have begun to shine through that are surprising me. She’s not compliant, and while I thought I wanted a woman to submit, perhaps her resistance is what I’ve needed. Her need to argue and hold on to her independence intrigues me, and for the first time in my life, I find a woman’s defiance sexy as hell. Though nothing will ever beat the confidence I saw from her when she was on that stage. If I allow her, she’ll be the one trying to force my submission, but that will never happen. She just needs to learn her place here, needs to find where she fits into this fucked-up world and understand what it means to be the woman I come home to fuck each night. Once she’s figured it out, something tells me she’ll be unstoppable.

Getting out of the shower, I dry off and dress for another long day. It’s almost seven in the morning, and I’m sure my employees are wondering what the fuck is going on with the half-naked woman I stormed through the door with only a few short hours ago. They need to know what’s going on and what I expect of them where my new prize is concerned, and by the time I’ve finished filling them in, Sergiu should be in my office with an update on the raid downtown and a folder filled with every detail of Chiara Matthews’ life.

As I finish buttoning my suit shirt and roll up my sleeves, I take my phone and call down to the kitchen. Putting the call on speakerphone, I wait all of three seconds before my head chef, Krista, accepts the call. “Mr. DeLorenzo, what can I help you with?”

“Call for a full staff meeting in the dining room. I’ll be down in ten minutes.”

“Of course, Sir. And for breakfast?”

“No breakfast this morning. Just a coffee will be fine.”

“Coming right up.”

I end the call and finish getting myself ready for the day, dreading the long hours ahead before I finally get to crash, but unfortunately, a lack of sleep is simply a hazard of the job.

Making my way out of my bedroom, I pass the closed door that my latest mystery soundlessly sleeps behind, and considering the sedatives that were slipped into the glass of water on her bedside table, she should sleep for most of the day, assuming she was brave enough to drink it, of course.

Either way, I’ve offered her the privacy of a closed door in a luxurious bedroom with a private bathroom, and that’s far more than she would have received in Ezekiel’s warehouse. She should be quite happy here, and if she’s not . . . then that’s not my problem. She will have to figure out a way to find happiness here, otherwise, she will lead a very dull and lonely life.

Ignoring the lure of her creamy thighs, I head down the stairs and detour past the kitchen before scooping up my steaming coffee off the edge of the counter.

Krista has worked as my personal chef for a little over twelve years now—after I found her in a similar situation to Chiara. She was too young, and there was never an attraction there for me, so instead of offering her my bed, I gave her my kitchen and she flourished there, and now, I can’t imagine having anyone else working my kitchen. She’s got it down to a fine art, and I fear the day she decides to move on. Don’t get me wrong, she is free. I don’t hold her to the same bounds as I do my new prize. Krista is an employee and can walk away at any point, just like the rest of my staff, and despite knowing exactly who I am and what I’m capable of, she sticks around, not out of fear, but out of loyalty.

Lifting my coffee to my lips, I take a quick sip before letting out a heavy breath and striding through my home. I make my way into the formal dining room and find my staff waiting for me, all but a few of my main security team who would have stayed at their posts, patrolling my property for potential threats. I take my security very seriously and have the best of the best. My security detail is made up of ex-military special ops members, former champion MMA fighters, and the kind of men you wouldn’t want to run into in a back alley. They make a deadly team, and yet not one of them is more deadly than me.

Moving around the dining table, I survey my staff, watching how they all straighten and offer me every bit of their attention as I snake my way to the head of the table.

Everyone is here. My housekeeper. Rohan, my doorman. My personal butler. The maids and the groundskeepers. They all remain standing, knowing they all have duties to attend to and that I don’t usually waste any time.

“Some of you may have noticed that we currently have a woman occupying the private suite on the second floor,” I start as I settle at the top of the table, not bothering to take a seat. “She is my guest and is to be treated with the utmost respect, just as you would anyone else who steps foot inside my home. Not a single hand is to be laid on her, or any wandering eyes feasting upon her beauty. She has already been through enough, and I wish for her to find comfort within my home.”

My gaze subtly meets Krista’s across the formal dining table, and when her lips press into a hard line and her gaze fills with pity, I know she understands exactly what kind of life I have stolen this woman from. And let’s be clear when I say stolen, Krista knows exactly what that means. After all, I stole her just as I did Chiara, and hopefully as she begins to find solace in my home, she will be able to connect with Krista and the two of them can heal together, or in the least, offer the other some kind of friendship.

Focusing back on the many faces around my table, I continue with my expectations. “I have granted her full access to my estate, including the outdoor facilities. However, it is imperative that I be made aware of her daily movements. Until I know she can be trusted, she is to be watched like a hawk. I need to know her whereabouts at all times of the day, and it is to be noted that she is not permitted to step even a foot outside my estate without my approval. Is that understood?”

Everybody nods their head, and I turn my attention back to my personal chef. “Krista, I trust you will find some time in your day to meet with our new guest and discuss her dietary requirements.”

“Of course, Sir,” she responds with a subtle drop of her chin. “Anything else she requires for her stay? Clothes? Prescriptions? Electronics? Toiletries?”

“No electronics,” I state firmly. “As for clothes and toiletries, yes. Please see to it that her closet is fully stocked. She will be staying indefinitely, so be sure to provide clothing for all seasons and occasions. Stock her bathroom with basic necessities to get her started, and when she wakes and is feeling up to it, you can ask her about her preferred brands.”

“Yes, Sir,” Krista says with another nod.

Digging my hand into my pocket, I pull out my wallet and fish for my credit card when Rohan’s tone sails through the dining room. “Her name, Sir? What shall we refer to her as?”

I blindly hand my credit card to Krista, and she takes it without question, being one of the only members of my staff I trust with it. “Her name is not important,” I say, choosing to keep them in the dark. After all, the less they know, the better. However, considering the strict level of professionalism and how it directly stands against my requirements to show respect to my guests, I relent and offer an alternative. “You may refer to her as ma’am, and nothing more until further notice.”

Rohan nods in acknowledgment, and to be honest, out of all of my staff, Krista and Rohan are probably the only ones my new prize will have to deal with. The rest are to be seen and not heard. However, if she wishes to make friends with them down the line, then I suppose that will be okay.

“Are there any questions?”

“Sir,” one of my security team pipes. “What are your expectations security-wise? Does she require a shadow, someone stationed outside her door? Or will the security footage surveillance be satisfactory?”

I consider his question, trying to figure out exactly what I want. On one hand, I want her comfortable here, and having some ex-con stationed outside her bedroom door isn’t going to help with that. On the other hand, I don’t know anything about this girl. I don’t know her capabilities or her intentions, and until I can look her in the eye and read exactly what she’s thinking, I have to play it safe.

Unsure how to answer it just yet, I meet his waiting stare. “Let me get back to you on that. I need to look further into her history before making an informed decision on how to move forward. Expect a response before lunch.”

He nods. “I’ll let my head of security know to expect your instructions.”

“Good,” I say before looking back at everyone else. “Unless there are any further questions, this meeting is adjourned. Please get back to your posts in a timely manner.”

With that, the dining room quickly empties until I’m left with just Krista’s heavy stare on me. I arch a brow, waiting to hear what she needs. She lets out a heavy breath, and her lips flinch in the corners as if she’s trying to be brave. “Trafficking?” she asks in a small tone.

I hold her stare a moment longer. She’s usually not so bold when it comes to the details of my house guests. She tends to turn a blind eye, knowing exactly what kind of company I keep, but she can tell that this one is different. It hits harder and because of the respect I hold for her and the challenges she’s had to overcome, I won’t disrespect her by lying about it now. “Yes.”

Krista nods, and as she slips my credit card into the back pocket of her jeans, she forces a smile across her face. “You’re a good man, Killian. You did the right thing,” she tells me, reaching out and squeezing my arm. “I’ll do everything I can to help her feel at home.”

I nod, and without another word, Krista is gone.

Letting out a heavy breath, I brace my fists against the table and lean into them. Heavy is the head that wears the crown. That’s what my grandfather always told me, and I never truly understood it until he was murdered in cold blood. Before his body was even cold, I took over as head of the DeLorenzo Mafia family. Now, I understand it as clearly as if the words had been engraved on my skin. It’s a lonely life here at the top, and with the lives of so many in the palm of my hands, I can’t afford to put even one foot out of line. One wrong move, and this whole family could burn to ashes. That much was proven last night during the raid at my warehouse. While it wasn’t my family members who were slain, they were my workers. They were my responsibility, and last night, I failed them. The blood of those twenty-three workers is on my hands, and I will make this right.

Having too much to get through, I scoop my coffee off the dining table and cringe at the circle it left on the hardwood. I’ve always been a fan of a good coaster, only whenever I need one, there’s never any in sight. I suppose it doesn’t matter. The second I walk out of here, my housekeeper will sweep through and leave the room looking untouched.

Moving through my home, I find myself passing the main staircase that leads up to the private suites, right where Chiara sleeps, and I feel a pull, urging me to go check on her. I pause, my gaze sweeping up the long staircase, and I immediately berate myself. I shouldn’t feel this way. She’s just some random woman who I happened to find locked in a cage at Ezekiel’s auction. She isn’t anyone special, certainly not someone who is worthy enough for me to take time away from work.

Anger at my lack of self-control surges through my body, and I push myself to keep walking toward my office, but a movement out of the corner of my eye catches my attention. I pause again, watching Rohan reach for the front door and pull it open just in time for Sergiu to stride through, not bothering to spare a single second to thank Rohan for opening the door.

“Cousin,” Sergiu booms as he stalks through my foyer and meets me in the middle with two manila folders tucked under his arm.

He claps me on the back, making a move to greet me, but I hold back, not having the patience for it today and needing answers about last night’s bullshit raid. “Have you got a name for me?”

Sergiu nods. “I’m waiting for the call to come through any minute now,” he says before handing me the manila folders. “In the meantime, I come bearing gifts. Everything you requested on your new . . . pet. And the names and contact details of the workers killed in the raid last night.”

I nod and flip through the list of names, not recognizing any of them, and yet each one seems to sting harder than the last.

There are a million more questions I need to ask to follow up on the conversation we had last night, but I move on to the next folder instead, and right on top, I find a photograph of Chiara. She must be only a few years younger here, maybe nineteen or twenty. Her cheeks are full, and her green eyes are so bright, a stark contrast to the girl I met last night. One thing is for sure, when she’s not plagued by fear, starved, or covered in grime, she’s fucking gorgeous.

My attention is piqued, and I flip through the pages inside, quickly scanning over her birth certificate and the copy of the missing person’s report that was filed two days ago when she failed to show up for her shift at the bar she worked at. “I trust you’ve taken care of this?” I ask Sergiu.

“Just about,” he says. “The report mysteriously went missing from police records, but this was filed a few days ago, so I can’t guarantee that there aren’t physical copies on a desk somewhere, but with her name scrubbed from existence and her birth certificate suddenly gone, we should be okay. I’ve got men keeping a close eye on that though.”

“Good, and—”

Sergiu’s ringing phone cuts me off, and as he reaches for it and glances at the caller ID, a familiar excitement flashes in his eyes. He holds up a finger, telling me to hold that thought while he takes his call. “Speak to me,” he says into the phone.

I listen to his call, keeping a keen eye on my cousin as he takes in the information that’s being shared, and the second his lip quirks up into a wicked grin, I know we’ve got exactly what we need.

Sergiu ends the call with his gaze locked on mine. “We got ’em.”

“Call a meeting,” I tell him, excitement drumming through my veins. “We’re going hunting tonight.”