Page 29 of Taken by the Mafia King (Kings of Philly #1)

SERA

K illian stared at me for a long moment, his body only inches from mine. Despite the fire in the hearth, the air between us felt chilled. He panted like he was holding back. I tilted my chin up to him and ran my fingertips over his jaw.

He’d kissed me because he wanted to. He had no reason to seduce me other than desire. I had many reasons to seduce him—freedom, privileges, not getting killed.

But there had been no reason for me to lean into his touch and accept that kiss, other than that I wanted to. And I hadn’t wanted it to stop.

He grabbed my wrist and whirled me around, shoving me into the hallway before slamming the door shut behind me.

Sudden fury swept over me, igniting the instincts I’d been ignoring.

Again, I questioned why I’d come down here in the first place.

Why hadn’t I put on some shoes, at least?

It was fall, so it would be cold. And I was an idiot for using what I knew would be my only chance of escape in trying to comfort a beast like Killian.

Comfort him! Like the Mano Della Morte needed something like that.

“God,” I cursed. “You stupid idiot.”

I was angry at myself and angry that I’d started to have feelings for him.

No. I would not admit that whatever feelings I had toward Killian were more than the sheer need to survive. I wasn’t falling for him. I wouldn’t fall for him. I couldn’t love a man who killed for sport and ruled with an iron fist.

A man who’d killed my beloved brother and beat Jim within an inch of his life.

I hadn’t realized where I’d been walking until I curled my hand around the knob on the front door. I twisted, finding it unlocked.

It was like he wanted me to leave.

I threw open the door and stormed out into a frigid, rainy night. But before I had a chance to even walk down the stone steps leading to a circular driveway, a waft of cigar smoke hit me and I stopped in my tracks.

“Bad idea,” Francesco said as I turned to face him. He puffed on his cigar and blew a smoke ring. “You’ll freeze before you reach the gate. Then it’s roughly, I don’t know, ten or eleven miles to town, on foot, through the woods if you want to stay hidden.”

“I wasn’t going to run away,” I lied, tightening the belt of my robe and sneering up at the giant of a man. One of his hands could wrap around my entire head. Of that, I was sure. Big oof. “I was getting some fresh air since I haven’t been allowed out of my room since I was dragged here.”

“You got a big mouth for such a small person.”

I trudged down onto the driveway with my arms crossed over my chest against the chill creeping through the thin fabric of my robe, not sure how to respond.

Francesco chuckled behind me and blew out his breath. “Let me know when you’re done throwing a hissy fit and I’ll take you back inside.”

I walked further down the driveway, seeing how far he’d let me go before intervening.

The cold, wet pavement bit into the soles of my feet and rain pelted the top of my head.

I started shivering, and I wasn’t sure if it was anger, frustration, worry for Tommaso and myself, or a mix of everything, but I scrunched my shoulders and pulled my belly in, preparing to scream.

To let it all out. The fear. The anger, pain, confusion, lust—all of it.

It had been building and building inside of me, and now that release was right at my fingertips, I faltered. The scream died on my tongue.

Weak. Coward.

I’d never be free of Killian. Not for a second. Even if he let me go, his touch would haunt me for the rest of my life.

Because, despite it all, I wanted him.

Francesco’s deep voice cut through my thoughts. “I think you’ve had enough air.”

I turned around and glowered as I stomped back to the house and glided past him on a phantom wind.

“Where’s the kitchen?” I began to ask, but he took me firmly by the arm and marched me back to my room like I was a kid throwing a tantrum and needed a time-out.

This time the door slammed shut and was locked in place.

I fell into bed and curled beneath the covers, trembling with a cold that had seeped into my bones while I’d been outside.

How had I ended up here? How had my life taken such a turn?

I brushed my fingertips over my lips, imagining the featherlight touch belonging to the man who’d started to plague my dreams.

I fell asleep thinking of him, so I dreamt of him too, of what could have happened if that kiss had turned to more.

His hand grazed over the curve of my hip, then under my robe where his heated touch warmed my skin.

In my dream, I shivered from the way his fingers felt against my sex, not from the cold, bitter night air. His lips explored my throat, finding out how sensitive that tender spot right behind my ear was, and how it made me tremble with desire.

I gave him anything he wanted, everything I had. If Killian Ricci claimed me, he would be my first. And when he killed me, which I knew was inevitable, he’d be the only man to ever touch me and know my body in a carnal way.

With every passing day I lost more of myself to the Mano Della Morte.

And to be honest?

The flame he’d lit inside of me burned in such a delicious way, I didn’t mind at all.

What did that say about me?