Page 24 of Taken by the Mafia King (Kings of Philly #1)

KILLIAN

P ining over a woman’s attention didn’t fit my persona. I’d also never felt like my knees were going to give out, or that I’d gladly rip the world in half if it meant making a woman happy.

Bracing myself against the wall of the hallway outside Sera’s bedroom, I forced myself to take a breath and ignore her sobs.

Her pain and fear ate away at my resolve when I finally broke free of whatever trance she’d put me in and wove through the hallways until I reached the stairs leading down to the foyer.

How many people had I kept up here over the years?

Dozens, probably. The carpet in each room was stained with their tears and blood.

Delaney remained locked up here as well, but the thought of her crumpled on the floor with her face pressed to the carpet as she screamed did nothing in comparison to the image of Sera in the same position.

I placed two fingers over my lips where she’d brushed that featherlight and damning kiss.

It took all of my strength not to pin her to the wall and taste her fully, my tongue parting her full, plump mouth and exploring her.

I imagined the noise that had left her hot, wet mouth as I held her still with a hand wrapped around her throat.

Would it leave her lips again if I’d kissed her the way I’d wanted to?

That little moan had done something to me.

The way her brows had furrowed and her cheeks flushed with heat ignited a hunger I would never be able to satiate.

I craved her in a feral, compulsive way that left my skin heated when I finally walked out onto the second-floor landing and looked over the railing at the men lingering in the foyer.

All I knew for certain was that the next time we kissed, it wouldn’t be a featherlight sensation. I’d kiss her properly, thoroughly, ravenously.

Whether she wanted me to or not.

“What?” I asked as I walked down the wide staircase.

Francesco looked up at me with an exasperated look. “Alonzo’s back, boss. He’s in your office.”

“Am I going to have the whole fucking city descending on my house today?” I spat, striding past him.

I found Alonzo pacing in front of the ceiling-height windows in my office, his knuckles occasionally rapping on the glass.

“It’s bulletproof,” I said absently as I sat down behind my desk. “I want a full report, Alonzo. Everything you’ve seen and heard.”

Alonzo, a younger man of roughly thirty, had spent the last year acting as a spy within the de Luca syndicate for me.

His father, a caporegime for Gabriele at one point in time, had taken a knife to the gut two summers ago, and Alonzo didn’t even blink when I’d asked if he wanted to work for me instead of Gabriele.

He’d been there that night. He’d let us in.

“Giuseppe has taken over as boss,” Alonzo said before turning to face me. “He has plans to sabotage your warehouses.”

“Of course, he does,” I said lazily, finding it hard to focus when I could feel Sera’s kiss on my lips.

Alonzo was oblivious to the fact my mind was elsewhere as he rattled on about the aftermath of the bloodbath I’d unleashed at the de Luca compound. “The maid you asked about,” he said after a moment, tucking his hands behind his back as he walked a few paces toward my desk. “She didn’t make it.”

I rolled my lower lip between my teeth as I met his eyes. The nameless young maid who’d been kind to Sera. The one she’d asked about when I’d carried her out of the dungeon after shooting her would-be violator in the neck.

“How long did she suffer?”

“I sped things up for her, let her go gently. It was merciful,” Alonzo said. “Giuseppe… he gave her over to his men and… you can piece together what happened then and how I found her.”

I exhaled sharply, rage thrumming over my skin as I leaned forward and nodded. The de Lucas were almost as depraved as the Bianchi syndicate. Almost.

I dismissed Alonzo, knowing he’d have to slither back to Giuseppe immediately to gather more intel on the warehouse attack they were planning. I needed some air, but I stopped to tell Francesco to get the warehouses cleared out and prepare for company.

My men were gone within minutes, and the house fell quiet. Finally.

Maybe it was the rare silence that made it possible to hear the quiet sobbing from the top floor rooms where those who’d wronged me wept.

Or maybe I was just riding the edge of pure exhaustion after days of cleaning up Andre Bianchi’s messes.

I walked out to the back of the house where a large stone patio extended the length of my home.

I sighed heavily and fought the urge to turn around when my elderly mother, dressed in a red velvet and mink-lined coat, turned in my direction.

The cherry of her cigarette glowed bright crimson as she sucked in a smoke-filled breath.

“I heard you have a new pet upstairs.” She smirked, a subtle twist of her thin lips. “A Bianchi, no less.”

“The daughter,” I confessed, leaning my weight against the stone railing overlooking the wide, grassy expanse of my property.

“Kill her and get it over with,” she said as she lifted her slim cigarette to her mouth, the filter stained a deep berry color from her lipstick. “For your father’s sake.”

“It doesn’t bother you that the girl has no connection to Dad’s death whatsoever?”

She snorted with mirth as she turned to me, flicking her cigarette onto the stone pavers and tamping it out with her shoe.

“No one is innocent in these games, Killian. Don’t go soft on me now. You promised him on his deathbed you would avenge him. You promised you’d rid the world of all Bianchi scum, and lucky you, you have one locked upstairs.”

I swallowed, hating the acrid taste on my tongue as I turned away from my mother and walked back into the house.

She called after me. “Don’t play with your food, son.”