The Darkest King: A Dark Mafia Romance (The Dark Kings of NYC Book 1)

What the hell?

“Mia?” I ask, stepping out of the vehicle and watching her pace in front of my building.

What is she doing here?

I’ve been going back and forth over the conversation with Nathan and concluded I have to forget about dating her.

You mean, using her?

Now I’m curious as hell to understand why she’s here. If I’m honest, I’m not unhappy to see her.

“What’s going on?”

“Trust me, this is not what it looks like,” she says, and my brows lift in response.

“Okay, perhaps it is. Well, no, it’s worse,” Mia adds.

Worse?

Okay, now she is really getting my attention. Why has the Mancini mafia princess come back for seconds? An assumption, I realize, but what else could it be?

On second thought, I can’t see her being one of those clingy one-night stand types.

Plus, she looks stressed.

“Explain,” I say, taking in her sexy-as-hell tight jeans, which hug her ass perfectly, and a silk green top which drapes in a cowl neck, hinting at those perky little tits I had in my mouth many times this morning.

She looks completely different from her Bloom Events uniform. Tonight, her long dark hair is flowing in silky waves down her back.

I don’t want to be this attracted to her, but Mia is gorgeous. And complicated. At least, she’s a complication to me.

If I’m going to use her to get to the notorious Italian mafia’s inner circle, I need to remember she would just be an asset.

Nothing more.

Fine, she’s a great fuck as well.

It can be both.

Temporarily.

“I think…I don’t know. It doesn’t matter. Well, it does. I think. Shit. I’m here because I didn’t have your number,” Mia says.

Obviously.

Not many people do.

“There’s a reason for that,” I say, walking past her toward my building. She follows, and I open the door and glance at her. Mia figures out it’s an invitation to enter, while Mack stands back, watching me.

“Head home. I’ll see you in the morning,” I instruct him.

“Yes, sir,” Mack says, walking back to the car. He and Benson will wrap up for the night, my other men in the foyer starting their evening shift.

I turn to Mia, waving her in, and we walk to the elevator to my penthouse. When the doors open, I go straight to the kitchen and pull out two bottles of water.

She paces the floor, biting her nails.

Curiosity is nearly killing me, if I’m honest.

I open one of the bottles and put it on the kitchen bench between us. She looks at it, then at me as if snapping out of her thought pattern, but she continues her pacing.

Christ, this is going to take forever.

“I know who you are,” I say, hoping that might speed things up.

Mia stops walking and freezes. She’s staring at me, and I guess I can appreciate that she’s waiting to see what I will say. I know what it’s like to protect your true identity.

“Mia…or should I say, Maria Luna Mancini,” I add, to be clear we are on the same page.

Her body slumps. “I’m sorry.”

Interesting.

I lift the bottle and take a long drink, watching the defeat in her body language. Where’s her sass gone? Something has happened, and a thread of anger weaves through me.

I push it aside.

She’s my enemy. Or at least, her family is.

Pawn. Remember that.

I put the cap on my bottle.

“Is that why you’re here, Mia? Guilt for not telling me your real identity?” But I don’t care. I simply want to keep her talking because it’s clear there is more than this going on. “Or because you signed a false signature on our agreement?”

If I’m going to play this, I must be smart. I can’t let her know I care about what her family does. Or that I have a vested interest. Theoretically, if I was simply a businessman wanting to ensure his privacy wasn’t at risk after a night with a woman, I would be concerned about that contract.

That’s all.

“No!” she says. “No. I’ll honor that. I just can’t sign my real name. I couldn’t. Surely, you can understand that now. Or maybe you can’t. There’s…My life isn’t normal. I can’t explain.”

I do. I understand more than she realizes.

“Good to know,” I reply and lean a hip against the counter. “So, why are you here, Mia Mancini, mafia princess?”

She cringes, and I watch her curiously.

I wait.

“So…God…My father knows I was here last night,” Mia says, and I raise a brow.

“And?” I ask coldly.

Despite the fact he’s Joe Mancini, do I care? I’m Connor fucking Barrett. He’s hardly going to come knocking down my door for fucking his daughter.

Well, he might.

“Unless Wikipedia has it wrong, I’m pretty sure you’re over eighteen,” I add.

“You googled me?” she asks, giving away a hint of pleasure, and I suppress the smile I want to give her.

Instead, I push away from the counter and throw back the rest of the water.

“When you learn the daughter of the Italian mafia was in your bed, it’s always good to check she is of legal age, don’t you think?”

“I’m twenty-four,” Mia confirms for me again.

I didn’t Google her. I have all the information about her on my office wall. She’d be creeped the fuck out if she saw it.

I toss my water bottle in the trash, and I can see she’s wondering why I’m not quivering in fear.

She won’t get that from me.

“So, your father’s going to send someone to shoot out my kneecaps, is that it? Is that why you’re here?” I smirk.

Joe Mancini can try, but his goons won’t get close enough. Everyone who works in my personal or protective roles has military training and is far more skilled than they need to be.

Or perhaps, do need to be.

One day.

Mobsters might be ruthless killers, but they aren’t trained. They’d be dead before they lifted their weapons.

Mia crosses her arms. “Don’t joke about that.”

I laugh dryly.

“Don’t worry about me, princess. I can take care of myself. Your father doesn’t scare me,” I say firmly. It’s important Mia knows, if I’m to work my way into her life, I am powerful enough to face her family. I want her to feel confident introducing me to them quickly.

This is a turning point for me and the Dark Kings.

“Good, because he wants to meet you?” she says, a blush hitting her cheeks.

What?

I stare at her, taken by surprise.

Jesus.

It’s like life is being handed to me on a silver platter. The Mancini family and the sweetest pussy I’ve ever had. Except I’m not a fucking idiot. There’s something she’s not telling me. I walk around the kitchen island and stop a few feet away from her as she lifts her face.

Mia’s holding her breath, and my heart is thumping away in my chest.

“What have you done?” I growl, crossing my arms.

She mirrors me, but it’s a protective stance, and for a moment, I don’t like the vulnerability I see in her eyes.

Pawn.

“Mia, talk.”

“Before I say any more, I want you to know I didn’t plan this. It just fell out. There is no way I could’ve known I would, you know, end up here last night, and so…I got scared,”

“Of me?” I ask angrily. I do not want her to be afraid of me. That is unacceptable.

“No,” she replies quickly, and I nod.

“Keep going.”

“So, I’ve been living this double life, and my time is up, and then my father says I have to move back home. He’s canceled my lease, and I have to quit my job. Then I overheard my brother saying they’ve lined up Salvo Vitale to be my husband. God, he slurps his food.”

My brain is trying to take in the data, but all I hear are Nathans words: He’s brutal.

Staring at her and imagining that asshole with his hands on her…Well, I don’t like it at all.

She’s worried he slurps his food? Fuck, that’s the least of her fucking worries.

Double fuck.

“And he’s older, you know. Like, fifteen or more years older. I know you’re older. But like, good old.”

My brows lift and then drop in a frown. I may not know Mia well, but I do know when someone won’t stop talking, it’s because there’s something they do not want to say.

Usually, it’s followed by bad news.

What the hell has she done?

“Mia,” I say roughly.

She looks up at me, and her eyes are filled with tears. I take a step closer, my arms dropping.

“What. Did. You. Do?”

Ice creeps into my bones as Mia bites her lip and looks pleadingly at me. My eyes hold hers, pressing for the answer.

“Well, I said I can’t marry anyone,” Mia replies. “Because…Oh god.” Her head drops into her hands. “I told my father…I said I was engaged to you.”

I draw in a sharp, audible breath, then curse.

Jesus fucking Christ.

The head of the mafia thinks I am engaged to his daughter.

Me.

The man who wants to destroy him.

“I’M SORRY,” MIA cries as I spin away and run a hand through my hair.

Jesus.

I don’t know whether to strangle her or kiss her. This could be an incredible opportunity. Or an enormous risk.

Marry the mafia princess?

Am I insane for even contemplating the idea?

Whatever I decide in the next few minutes, what I need to do is ensure Mia thinks I’m shocked—which I am—and need convincing.

I shoot her a glance, then start to pace, my hands roaming over my head and across my face. Multiple times, I turn to face Mia, who stands there with her arms wrapped around her middle.

She’s worried.

“What do you think is going to happen here?” I finally ask. I need to know what her expectations are. What she’s thinking.

If I’m to proceed with my idea.

“Not that you will marry me,” she says firmly. “Honestly, not that. I just need to buy some time until I can get my own place. I have to move out of my apartment in two weeks. Papa is taking away everything.”

Papa, like Joe Mancini is some guy who used to take her to Saturday ballet, instead of leading one of the country’s most dangerous gangs.

If he has taken away her apartment, it’s likely he will cut her off financially as well. It’s how you control trust-fund babies. I see it all the time.

“And?”

“I just need a few months to get a deposit together and furniture.” She waves her hand around, like she could afford anything in my penthouse. Most people couldn’t. “Then I’ll convince my father I don’t love you, or something. Once I have everything set up, I’ll be independent enough to tell him I’m not coming back.”

My eyes widen, and I nearly laugh.

Is she insane?

This is her grand plan to escape the mafia? Her family, her destiny, and the role she was born into as a mafia princess.

If I didn’t know the security in my penthouse was the best in the world, I’d suspect I was on a hidden camera show.

It’s like she’s in complete denial.

Or desperate.

“Mia, I don’t know much about mafia families,” I lie, “but I’m sure it’s not that easy. Why don’t you sit down with your father and discuss how you feel.”

I know it won’t work, but again, I’m playing a role here. If I say yes and go along with her plan, she’ll be suspicious.

She flings out her hands and lets out a groan.

“I’m not marrying Salvo Vitale. Do you know…No, you don’t. They don’t treat women well in my family. We are…Anyway, forget it. I can’t say anything to Papa. I just hate what they do…We do. Ugh. I know this is crazy. I shouldn’t have come. I’ve had too much to drink, and…I don’t know…I thought maybe you might…” Her eyes lift to mine, and for a moment, I’m pulled into those crystal blue eyes and feel a genuine desire to help her. “I get it. There’s nothing in it for you. Well, there is. I get my trust fund if we did marry, but it’s not like you need the money.”

Now, that’s something I can work with.

I watch Mia unravel as I reformulate my plan. Little does she know, there is a lot in it for me. The thing I want most in life. Revenge. And she could be the key to unlocking the door Carlos is hiding behind.

I must do this. No matter the cost.

Of course, I don’t need her money, but I keep that to myself. It’s essential Mia believes I have selfish reasons for agreeing to what she’s asking.

Being a businessman, money is something I would be interested in, so I ask, “How much?”

“What?” Mia’s eyes go wide.

“How much is your trust fund?”

“Two million,” Mia says, and I force back my reaction.

Her father has an estimated wealth of one hundred times that, and he’s giving her two measly million?

It’s becoming clear Mancini has set up quite the invisible prison for his daughter, and it surprises me he has let her have a job. Something I plan to ask more about another day.

I polish off my mental plan. Mia flops down onto the stool, defeated. I sit beside her, my body dwarfing hers.

Taking a moment to run my eyes over her, I feel a familiar desire run through me. She’s utterly gorgeous, and I’m strangely excited about having her in my life for a bit longer as I proceed with this insanity.

“I know it’s not much. You can say no, and I will understand.” She locks her eyes to mine. “You think I’m crazy, don’t you?”

Yes.

“No, Mia, I don’t,” I reply, drawing in a long slow breath and then exhaling.

She watches me.

“I think you’re fucking gorgeous. I think I enjoyed last night with you very much, and I thought about you several times today.”

She blinks in surprise.

“I think I want to fuck you again, Mia Mancini. Something I don’t usually do with other women. I am a powerful man. With your background, I’m sure you understand why a relationship is impossible for me.”

She nods.

I had no doubt she would understand that concept.

“So, this may suit me. Temporarily, of course.”

Mia nods faster.

“The agreement will need to benefit us both,” I add, my voice darkening and my hand stretching past her along the marble bench. “So, I will have my own stipulations.”

She nods slower, more wary, and glances at my hand now lying beside her.

“What would you want?” she asks, swallowing nervously.

“I want all of you,” I reply.

“All of me?” she asks and begins to hop off the stool.

I stop her with the palm of my hand on her hip.

“If you want to be my fake wife, I’ll have all of you while you live here. Along with one point five million dollars once we are married. That is my offer.”

I watch as reality sinks in.

Mia chews her lips, glancing at me like it’s not a bad deal. She enjoyed last night, and we can both feel the chemistry still simmering beneath the surface.

If she does agree to go ahead, I’ll need to be very clear I know the price. Mia will be my pawn. Nothing more, nothing less.

Afterward, she will hate me.