Nanny for the Mafia King (Forbidden Kings #10)

Chapter 1

CARA

Staring at myself in the mirror, I chew my lip. Am I going to stand out like a sore thumb in this place?

It’s hard not to imagine I’ll, even standing here in this ridiculously fancy bathroom with marble countertops and hand soap that probably costs more than my entire outfit.

Outside, I can hear the chatter of the party already in full swing, the low strings of the band sending vibrations through my entire body.

I mean, at a glance, I feel like I’ve as much of a place here as anyone; my dress might be second-hand, but the black velvet hugs my body in exactly the right way, and the heels I’ve on are glossy matching black, even if they make my feet hurt just to stand there.

My hair’s loose around my shoulders, my usual mousy brown fluffed up into a cascade of curls that tumbles over my shoulders.

I’m wearing deep purple lipstick, a far cry from my normal balm-and-mascara make-up routine.

I look as far from myself as I can get without resorting to surgery, and I guess that’s a good thing. ..

But, despite myself, I’ve to fight the creeping dread that someone is going to clock me at any moment.

I know that I shouldn’t be here, not really.

I only managed to get my hands on an invitation to this exclusive gala because I sweet-talked Marvin, the head of security, into letting me deliver the invitations myself. I snuck one into my bag, reasoning with myself that I needed some way to blow off steam.

Which is what I’ve been telling myself all night, though I’m not sure when the hell I’m going to start believing it.

I run a hand through my hair, tousling it again before I pull the mask down over my face.

A masquerade ball sounded like the perfect place for me to shrug off everything that I’ve been dealing with recently, and, given that the memory of Michael’s affair is still burned into my brain like a brand I’ll never be able to shake, I know I still need it.

I wince as the memory makes itself known inside my head once more.

God, if I could go back in time, I would handle all of it differently, everything that I did when I walked in to our shared apartment.

There he had been, fucking another woman on the floor, right in front of the TV where I would unwind watching crappy reality cooking shows after work every night.

I had just stood there, too shocked to say a damn word, and it hadn’t been until he looked up at me that I reacted at all.

My eyes wide, I stared down at the two of them, hardly able to take it in as he rose to his feet, holding his hands up as though to still the obvious fury that he was expecting from me.

And fuck, I should have laid his ass out for pulling something like that on me.

But, as it was, I had just turned around and walked away, head still spinning from the abject shock of realizing how deeply he had betrayed me.

It makes me want to scream, but it was probably for the best, given how badly bruised my ego was by the revelation.

I did eventually kicked his ass out, even though I don’t have a clue how I’m going to be able to afford the rent in the coming months.

Working as a server, even in a fancy hotel, doesn’t exactly pay well, unless I’m willing to flirt my ass off with old men for the sake of getting a few more bucks. And now...

Now, all I can do is just hope for the best.

The door behind me opens, and an immaculately dressed woman steps into the bathroom.

She locks eyes with me for a moment and smiles, and I try to return it, hoping that my nerves don’t show too obviously on my face.

I brush past her and out into the grand hall of the hotel, where a couple hundred of the city’s wealthiest and most influential have gathered to hide behind masks and indulge the sides of themselves that they would never let show in any other scenario.

That is, at least, what Harriet told me about this evening; she’s worked the shift on it a few times, though I’ve never been called up to do the same.

I make my way straight to the bar, where glasses of champagne are being topped up.

I grab one and lift it to my lips, letting the flood of bubbles rest on the tip of my tongue.

At the back of my mind, I can feel something else fizzing, the possibilities that lay ahead tonight.

I’ve no idea what to expect, but God, I’m looking forward to finding out.

I cast my gaze across the room, trying to locate someone who looks as though they might be willing to entertain a conversation with me.

It looks like most of the people here have already paired off, leaning in close to lose themselves in conversation with their respective partners.

I notice a few huddled off to the side of the room, masks tugged down over their faces, cut off from the rest of the world as though they have forgotten they are even part of it.

That’s exactly what I’m hoping for tonight.

This evening, I’m not Cara, the awkward, inexperienced server who has to double her shifts to make ends’ meet. I’m a confident, established woman who knows exactly what she wants...

And, as my gaze traces around the room, it finally settles on someone who might just fit the bill—a man, leaning on one of the small tables on the other side of the hall, not far from the band.

His gaze is fixed on me, as though he has been waiting for me to notice.

He’s wearing a crisp navy suit with a white shirt, a mask draping down over one side of his face.

I can make out one side of his mouth, but that’s all that is visible, apart from his sharp eyes, which seem to pierce straight through me right from where he stands.

My heart flutters in my chest. Okay, if you’re going to do this, then you’re going to do it now. I insist to myself that I’m capable of this, and mustering every bit of my courage, I make my way across the floor, glass of champagne in one hand.

I make sure to sway my hips a little with every step. I’m not sure if it’s as alluring as I picture in my head, but right now, I’m willing to do anything in my power to try and sell myself as the woman I want to be.

I reach the man’s table, his eyes unmoving from me. He seems to have no problem making his interest in me known, his gaze sliding up and down my body. By the time they reach my face again, he smiles slightly, the one visible corner of his mouth curling up as he drinks in the sight of me.

“I’ven’t seen you at one of these before,” he remarks, leaning back slightly in his seat.

“It’s my first time,” I admit, and the smile curls up a little further. He pushes out the chair beside him.

“Join me.”

I take the seat, surprised by how easy it feels to just go along with what he wants. Honestly, it’s simpler than trying to navigate all of this on my own.

I muster up the courage to further the conversation. “You’ve come to these before, then?”

“Every year,” he replies, closing his hand around the glass of whiskey beside him and taking a sip.

I catch the scent of it, deep and peaty—I recognize it as one of the most expensive offerings at the bar, but clearly, he has no need to worry about money.

His suit is cut to his body, a perfect fit, though its smartness seem to bely some of the tattoos I can see peeking through here and there.

There’s something on his chest that reaches towards his throat, and what looks like a spiderweb spun along the top of his hand.

At the base of my spine, I feel something prickle in response to the strange contradiction of the man who sits before me, the darkness that seems to swirl somewhere just out of sight.

“Well,” I remark, shifting slightly in my seat, deciding that the best way to handle this is to just dive head-first into what I came here for. “You know, I heard a lot of gossip about this event before I got my invitation. Almost didn’t come, based on the reputation.”

He lifts his chin, the muscles in his neck tensing slightly as he grins. “Oh, yeah?”

I nod, trailing my finger around the top of my champagne glass. “Oh, for sure,” I reply. “You must have heard them too, right? I mean, about what people get up to here. Shit, maybe you’ve even seen it...”

He leans forward slightly, and a heat rises to my chest in an instant, system responding to him before I can stop it. “Enlighten me.”

The scent of his aftershave trails from his skin, where some dark stubble is barely visible along his sharp jaw. It’s deep and woody and redolent, just like the whiskey in his hand, and I’ve to take in a long breath before I speak again.

“Um,” I murmur, suddenly feeling rather nervous. “I mean... behind these masks, people get up to a lot of stuff they might not otherwise...”

“You could say that.”

“Is that true for you?” I turn the question around on him.

I don’t know where I got the nerve—maybe it’s at the bottom of this glass of champagne, or maybe I’m just fooling myself in any way I can. Either way, he pauses for a moment before he responds, as though he’s genuinely considering his answer.

“Hmm,” he remarks, and, even though I can’t make out most of his features, I’m almost sure I can see his brows furrowing behind the black of his mask. “I don’t feel the need to hide from myself like that.”

“What do you mean?” I ask, sinking my teeth into my bottom lip.

I’m aching with curiosity now, even though I’m sure I should know better.

Tonight is just about bolstering my ego, nothing more to it than that, and yet, when he looks at me like that, it’s hard not to imagine taking it one step further.

“I mean,” he replies, leaning in a little closer, as though sensing where my mind is at. “I see no need to deny myself what I want. No matter what anyone else might have to say about it.”

My breath catches in my throat. His gaze falls to my lips. I flick my eyes over to his hand, which rests on the table next to us, and I can almost picture how he would feel on me, his fingers wrapped around me, pulling me close.

“People have a lot to say about what you want normally, huh?” I shoot back playfully, cocking an eyebrow. He chuckles.

“You could say that.”

“Why’s that?”

He tips his head to the side for a moment before he responds, considering his answer. “I’m not sure you want to know.”

“Why would I’ve asked, if I didn’t?” I retort.

“Because there are some things that are better kept hidden,” he replies, and he reaches out, tracing his fingertip over my mask. The sudden closeness knocks all the breath from my lungs, and I try to pull myself together. He touches me with a confidence that leaves me breathless.

“We could take these masks off,” he suggests, as though daring me. “See exactly what lays underneath. Unless there are some secrets you’d like to keep, hmm?”

I know he is pushing boundaries, and God, I don’t want to stop him. However, if I take this mask off, there’s no way someone wouldn’t notice that I work here, and if they find out that I’ve managed to sneak an invitation for myself, I know everything is going to come apart at the seams.

And besides... if he takes off that mask, then I’ll be back to myself. Back to the girl who was humiliated, cheated on, and made to feel as though she was worthless. And that’s the last thing I want right now.

I tilt my face into his hand, letting the bare side of my cheek rest against his palm. He smirks again, clearly glad that he has me right where he wants me.

“Let me leave it on,” I murmur, trying my best to sound sultry.

“Why?”

I play stupid. “Why what?”

“Are you wearing it because there are things you’d be too scared to ask for otherwise?” he wonders aloud, as his thumb traces down my cheek, towards the edge of my lip. It just catches against my mouth, sweet and soft and brief enough that it makes the hair on the back of my neck stand on end.

And, as I look into his eyes, I know this is my chance. My chance to admit to everything that I came here for, as difficult as it might be to come clean.

“Maybe,” I breathe.

“Come on, you can do better than that,” he urges, nudging me a little further yet, clearly not willing to let me dodge his question any further.

“I... I’ve never done anything like this before,” I confess, the words tumbling out of my mouth before I can stop them. The air between us feels rough, raw, full of want.

“And do you want to now?” he asks.

I nod. He catches my chin in his hand, eyes glistening with a darkness I know should scare me but doesn’t.

“Speak,” he urges. “Say it out loud.”

I can feel my cheeks reddening. It feels dangerous, admitting to the depths of my need right now, my heart pounding in my chest so hard it rattles my ribs with every motion.

I’m not sure if it is the champagne or something about the way he is looking at me right now, but, finally, I find the words.

“I want... I want you.”

His hand slips from my face, moving down to my waist, gripping tight enough that I can feel him through my dress. I bite down hard on my lip to keep the reaction from showing too obviously on my face, but I think we’re long past the point of no return.

“Come to my suite,” he growls. “Now. Room 108.” He slips his hand into his pocket, takes a key out, and then presses it into my hand. “Go upstairs, get undressed. Only your heels and your mask stay on,” he orders me. “I’ll be there in five minutes. You understand?”

My eyes nearly bug out of my head in surprise. This man is asking me to strip for him already? I could say no, of course. I could tell him that he has some damn nerve speaking to me like that, and he doesn’t get to just make orders the way he has. But…

And who am I to resist? And after all, this is what I wanted.

I rise to my feet, gripping the key tight, and then turn towards the door. Hardly anyone seems to notice that I’m leaving, but, as my heels click across the polished dark wood of the floor, I know that I’m leaving this place a different person than I’ll return in uniform tomorrow.