Darkest Sin: A Dark Mafia Romance

23. KILLIAN

It’s almost midnight as I finish in my office. It’s been a long night and an even longer day, but the terror in Chiara’s eyes made everything worse. There’s no one to blame but myself for the fearful way she looked at me. This is what I asked for. It’s imperative that the woman by my side throughout this life learns to fear me before she loves me, otherwise, there is no hope for us.

I am not a man who can hide my life from the woman I share it with. She must know who I am, and in order to love me, she must also love the devil within me—a feat no woman has ever been capable of.

Change is out of the question. In order to change, I must become weak, and that’s not a risk I can take within this world. For her sake and mine, it’s imperative to our survival. Instead, she must rise to meet me and bring a fierce will to survive. No less will be tolerated at my side.

Chiara has thick skin. She was raised as a fighter, but it’s not enough. She has to be capable of seeing the darkness in the world around us. The vile things I must do to maintain fear are all that keep the other monsters at bay, and when I come home to her covered in blood, she needs to understand that the alternative would have been me not coming home at all. I want her to love the man I have to be, not love me despite it. I’m a cold-blooded killer standing before her, but if she can look past that, she’d see I’m the man who would sacrifice the world just to save her.

Getting up from my desk, I make my way out of my office as my phone rings in my hand, and I glance down to see Sergiu’s name across the screen. Irritation burns through me. I’ve known it was his wife who put her hands on Chiara since the moment I found her on the ground. All I needed was confirmation, and despite what Chiara thinks, I got that from Evie on the drive over here.

As for Monica, I need to play my cards right. A part of me was holding on to hope that it might have been Phillip’s wife, Rachael. I would have put her in the ground next to her husband without hesitation. We could have held a double funeral for the two of them, and I wouldn’t have had a second thought about it. But Monica . . . that makes things difficult.

I can’t simply execute her without causing issues with Sergiu. He will retaliate without a conscious thought for what he’s doing, and it will start a mess none of us can possibly come back from. I need to figure out a game plan, and I need to be sure, confident, and precise in my plan, but I can’t wait too long. Monica will soon discover that Evie gave the confirmation I required, and when that happens, the war will rage.

Hitting accept on Sergiu’s call, I hold the phone to my ear and step out of my office. “Cousin,” I say in greeting.

“The DeAngelis shipment has been secured and is ready for delivery. I’ve been in contact with Roman, and they’re ready to take delivery. I’ll have our drivers out within the next hour.”

“Good. Go with them. We can’t afford for anything to go wrong. We need a smooth delivery to ensure a good working relationship with the brothers, and remember, don’t piss them off. They won’t hesitate to put a bullet right between your eyes.”

“Comforting,” he mutters.

“Wasn’t meant to be,” I state before ending the call, and while I might not trust him to always have my back, I do trust him to get the job done better than anyone else. He can be a charming motherfucker when he needs to be, and on more than one occasion, that charm has saved our asses. As for me, I don’t suck up to other men by acting like a charming fool. The only time you’ll see me laying on the charm is when I have a woman on her knees and my cock in her throat, and as for Chiara, I’ve never seen a woman look so beautiful when she’s working my cock.

I’m not going to lie, I feel like a fucking prick for speaking to Chiara like that when she walked in on me and Evie. She has been asked by Rachael to take care of the funeral arrangements for Phillip, and we were only just getting started when Chiara came running in looking as though she were about to be sick, and the moment she noticed Evie behind me, I knew exactly what was going through her head. Maybe it was cruel to not tell her what was really going on, but I need her to stop seeing me as her savior and more as the villain of her story.

As much as I wish I could be that for her, I need her to fear me, to truly understand who I am. It just happened that Evie is so socially awkward that the moment Chiara came racing in, Evie’s anxiety peaked, and in Chiara’s haste, she couldn’t tell the difference between Evie’s fear and her anxiety.

The moment Chiara was gone and the door closed behind her, Evie wasted no time to chastise me, but she couldn’t deny that I’d done her a kindness. Refusing to allow Chiara to break on her resolve and give me Monica’s name saved her from a burden that Evie knows all too well. Chiara won’t always have the luxury of taking the high ground. Given enough time in this world, she will eventually have her hands stained by another’s blood, and when that time comes, I’ll be right here to hold her up.

Making my way up the stairs, my gaze lingers on Chiara’s closed door, and I turn away, heading for my room instead. I haven’t seen her since she barged in on me and Evie, and the sorrow that flashed in her eyes when she turned her back and walked away nearly destroyed me. She clearly has a lot she needs to work through, but for now, I’ll allow her to rest. We’ll talk in the morning.

Walking up to my bedroom door, I find it open just a sliver and I push my way through to find Chiara sitting on my bed, her knees pulled up to her chest as she focuses too hard on the black sheets beneath her.

I don’t say anything, sensing she’s the one who wants to do the talking. Instead, I stride through my room as I work the buttons on my shirt. A moment of tension-filled silence passes, and just as my shirt hits the floor, I finally hear the soft brokenness of her voice filling the air.

“I suppose you got a name then?” Chiara asks, not able to meet my eye.

I lean back against my dresser, simply watching her on my bed. “Yes,” I say, deciding not to give her the whole truth about why Evie was really here. If they become close at any point, then that’s a truth I’ll leave up to her to share. Though to be completely honest, if Chiara did feel the need to make friends outside of my home, Evie would be the best option. She’s entirely too guarded for Chiara’s likes, but she’s the only one who wouldn’t intentionally stab her in the back.

Disappointment flashes in her lifeless eyes, and I realize that despite needing to be cruel in order to protect her from the burden of Monica’s punishment, I’ve instead burdened her with the guilt of Evie’s interrogation. She believes I broke her to get that information, and for now, she needs time to process that.

Her gaze flashes up briefly, but that second is more than enough to show her heartbreak. I’ve broken her, and I fucking hate myself for it, but she should learn now that just because I didn’t have to resort to brutality this time doesn’t mean I wouldn’t have.

Chiara lets out a heavy breath before getting to her feet and walking to my door. She opens it wider and leaves her hand on the door, pausing and glancing back at me, the heaviness between us almost crippling. “The reason I was down there is because I was coming to look for you. I’d figured out a solution that I thought could be suitable and wanted to discuss that with you, but I see now I was foolish to assume you would actually allow me to take the reins on that one.”

Her stab stings, but sensing she’s not done yet, I don’t respond.

“I looked for you in your office, and when you weren’t there,” she continues, pausing to meet my stare, but the darkness in her gaze puts me on edge. “I went looking in your little room of horrors.”

“And?” I prompt, arching a brow.

“And you make me sick,” she says. “I saw the pictures and the police report from the Donatelli massacre, and though your name wasn’t anywhere on it, that brutality . . . it was you.”

I nod, not willing to sugarcoat it. “It was.”

Her bottom lip trembles, but she lifts her chin and goes on. “And the people you have locked up on those security screens. The man hanging from chains and the woman with her nails pulled.” Chiara pauses and again I don’t respond, giving her a moment to figure out what she wants to say. “You’re really not the man I thought you were.”

Meeting her broken stare, I take a step toward her, grateful when she doesn’t flinch or try to move away. “Do you fear me, Chiara?”

She nods, not hesitating for even a moment. “Yes.”

Her honesty wounds me, but when she first arrived here, honesty is what I demanded, and I can’t fault her for giving me exactly what I asked for. “And do you still wish to love me?” I ask, remembering her words in that maze as clearly as though they were tattooed across my chest.

She visibly swallows as tears roll down her cheeks, and I want nothing more than to close the gap between us and pull her into my arms, giving every last reason for why I’ve done all the terrible things she accuses me of. Her hand shakes against the door, and I see the exact moment the last of her resolve breaks and the pain radiates from her beautiful eyes. “How could I possibly love someone like you?”

And with that, Chiara slips out the door and walks away, leaving me a fucking mess.