Page 42 of Taken by the Mafia King (Kings of Philly #1)

KILLIAN

“ K illian.” Sera breathed my name into the darkness. Her voice oozed with pleasure and contentment. I’d never heard her speak my name like that.

I hovered over her, my breath ragged in my lungs, my cock still inside her. She made no effort to move. Instead, she lay there dreamily, a small smile curling the corners of her perfect lips. When her eyes fluttered open, they shone like gems in the darkness.

Her gaze cut me.

I pushed off the bed, leaving her empty and grasping at the blankets to replace my warmth.

“Killian?” This time, my name held a note of confusion. Unease.

That was more like it.

She propped herself up on her elbows and watched as I zipped up my fly and moved to the door. “Where are you going?”

“I have business to attend to,” I said flatly, pausing before I opened the door.

“Oh. Are you coming back after?”

I should have at least told her goodnight or said something—anything—but I simply walked out the door and locked it behind me, trapping her inside once again.

Alone.

She didn’t even knock on the door or ask me to come back.

Silence choked the hallway as I walked toward the stairwell.

That made me feel worse, like I’d thrown water on whatever fire burned in her blood.

I rested my fist against the wallpaper, fighting the urge to punch a hole through the wall in order to feel something other than regret.

Not regret for sleeping with her. Regret that I’d put myself in a vulnerable position with a woman whose safety was already at risk, even in my own home. Whatever was igniting between us—something I couldn’t ignore any longer—would be the end of us both if I wasn’t careful.

Plus, it seemed she was a virgin before I laid claim to her.

Had I not seen the sheets beneath her when I left her room, I wouldn’t have fully believed it.

She’d been open and pliable in my hands, with no fear or second-guessing the fire that burned within us both.

She’d fully submitted to my primal demands without hesitation.

More than that, she’d made it clear that the longing I could not dampen within me coursed through her veins as well.

Her body had been made for mine.

So why did I feel like such shit for taking it?

Steeling myself, I moved to the top of the stairs as the first inklings of morning light started to drift through the windows in the grand foyer.

A few of my men had arrived for the day, some of them looking haggard from a night spent gathering intel on the aftermath of our raid on Giuseppe’s warehouses.

They lingered in the foyer awaiting orders.

Mikey looked up and spotted me above. He nodded in greeting. “Morning, Boss.”

I ran my hand over my face, rubbing away the fatigue. That raid had only been a few hours ago. How could that be? It seemed like days had passed. I’d never been a man who craved sleep, but I felt like I could have fallen into bed and slept for hours. Days. Maybe Sera’s bed.

Enough. Stop thinking about her.

“Any news?” My tone made the question sound like a challenge.

Francesco, looking as annoyed as ever, turned to look up at me. “Giuseppe is aware, and he’s likely making plans.”

“I don’t deal with likely , Francesco. I need something concrete. Has he made any moves in the last few hours?” I began descending the stairs. Some of the men shifted, their eyes following my steps. “I’m done playing games. Give me something solid. No more bullshit.”

Francesco kept his mouth shut.

Mikey filled the silence. “No.” He was covered in ash and charcoal. Once I reached the bottom of the stairs and stood near him, I smelled nothing but smoke. “His warehouses are smoldering now.”

“You accounted for local law enforcement?” I looked from man to man.

Francesco huffed. “Everything was taken care of on that end. Everyone has been paid to keep their mouths fucking shut.”

“Good. Let me know if anything changes.”

“Where’s Alonzo?” Mikey asked, rubbing his filthy hands on his coal-covered jeans. He frowned down at his palms when they came away even filthier. “Did he go to the safehouse with the women?”

“Yes. Mikey, go home to your wife. Rest a bit. Shower,” I added pointedly.

He didn’t need to be told twice. He gave me a curt nod before turning to leave, shaking ash and grime onto my marble floors.

He winced and turned to apologize, but I waved him off in dismissal.

I had house staff for a reason. A bit of ash was hardly any concern compared to some of the gory messes they had to deal with in this house.

I turned to the others still gathered in the foyer. “Francesco, take a few men with you to the safehouse and make sure those women are taken care of and that the doctors are doing their jobs. The women stay put until I can talk to them.”

Francesco studied me, unmoving.

“What?” I growled. “Spit it out.”

Francesco ran a thumb thoughtfully along his jaw.

“Giuseppe isn’t the puppy you think he is, Boss.

Based on what he had in his warehouses, he took off running with his father’s enterprise and made some big moves.

I’m talking about getting in with cartels in Mexico and the skin trade overseas.

That might just be the tip of the iceberg. ”

My pulse began to pound in my ears. My hands involuntarily balled into fists at my sides. “I don’t give a fuck who he’s connected with. Giuseppe is planning another move, that’s obvious. That’s what I want, Francesco.”

“You could make a trade?—”

I held up my hand to stop him from saying anything further. The rest of the men, sensing something was about to go down, started filing out of the foyer.

“There will be no trades, bargains, or deals with the de Luca” I said once they were gone. “Giuseppe will meet the same fate his father did. His blood will stain my hands, not my gun, not my knives. My hands .”

Francesco licked his lips, nodding in understanding. He had the sense to hold his tongue.

I turned and walked to my office, slamming the door shut behind me. I moved to the liquor cart, catching movement out of the corner of my eye at my desk. A manicured set of red nails drummed along the leather armrest of my chair.

I poured myself a whiskey while my mother’s glare burned into my back. “Why are you in here?”

She’d been smoking in my office. I could smell it. Her voice crackled from years of her addiction. “Why is the Bianchi bitch still alive, Killian? I’ve told you to eliminate her. Why are you being such a little coward?”

I tipped my drink back and took three steady gulps. It burned.

“You’ve gone soft.” She pushed up out of my chair and walked around the desk to stand behind me. She trailed her pointy red nails across my shoulders. “What would your father say?”

“He’s dead, so nothing.” I topped off my glass. “Now get out.”

“I’m trying to save you from yourself.”

I turned to her, my pulse now a thunderstorm in my skull. “Don’t make me ask you again. Get. Out.”

Her eyes narrowed to slits, but she backed down, sensing danger. At least she had some shred of sanity left. She turned on her heel and her dark robes billowed out behind her as she stormed out of my office and slammed the door behind her.

Silence surrounded me as I sipped my whiskey and thought about Giuseppe. I had to focus on something other than Sera, and the piece of shit bastard fit the bill. He had a toll to pay.

And I would collect.

It had been a few years since the Hand of Death had shown the rest of our fucked-up world what he could do. I meant to make an example out of the De Lucas, an example I was sure Andre Bianchi would hear about.

Maybe I’d get the chance to make him watch.

I swirled my drink and stared outside toward the ominous tree line in the distance, shrouded in darkness. “Let him come.”