Page 65 of Villainous Kingpin

“Marry me.” My whole body jolted up, searching his face.

“What?” I didn’t hear him right.

He took my shoulders between his hands, his touch firm but gentle and our gazes locked. He brought our faces inches apart.

“Marry me, Wynter Star.”

My pulse raced and my ears buzzed. I couldn’t have heard him right. The intense orgasm he had just given me must have messed up my brain.

“You’ve been mine from the moment you fell into my arms,” he continued and conviction in his voice sent adrenaline rushing through my blood and straight into my heart. “You said you love me.”

“I do,” I confirmed in a quiet voice, while blood pulsed in my ears. Ilovedhim so much it fucking hurt.

He slid off the bed, wearing only his boxers and a big grin on his face. He lowered himself on one knee, his dark eyes never leaving me.

“Wynter Star, would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

A choked laugh escaped me, while I debated whether this was romantic or not. My heart sang as he looked at me with so much intensity, it melted my heart. I’d kill for this man because living without him wouldn’t be living.

“Yes,” I rasped, shifting on the bed so I’d be closer to him. Then I threw myself on him, knocking him onto the floor. “Yes, yes, yes. I’ll marry you.”

CHAPTER25

Wynter

Dressed in one of Bas’ white t-shirts that came to my mid-thighs and my boyshort panties, I roamed his home.

Unlike most bachelors that I’d heard stories about, Basilio’s place was spotless. I could go mess around in the kitchen, but it was probably safer that I didn’t. While I was good on the ice, I was terrible in the kitchen. I didn’t want to risk burning his place down.

I roamed from room to room. Admittedly, I was a tiny bit nosey. Earlier today, I was too worried about Davina and then got wrapped up in Bas to absorb this place but now, I had time.

His kitchen was grand and fancy for a bachelor. Not that you’d catch me in it. But the rest of his house was the epitome of comfort with a feel of home. An office with a large mahogany desk and matching furniture, a guest bathroom painted all black and white, and a guest room in dark earth-tone colors looked cozy though it didn’t compare to Bas’ own bedroom.

His bedroom walls were crisp white with a large bed draped with black satin sheets. It fit him perfectly, giving his room the appearance of a devil’s lair tempting women with the promises of sin, pleasure, and happiness.

I was floating on a cloud while scouting his place, the words of his proposal playing on repeat. Over and over again, making me gush. I’d marry him. And I couldn’t freaking wait.

Since I’d met Basilio, life had been different. I enjoyed it more. I appreciated free moments and relished in spending them off the ice. Besides, I promised Basilio I’d stay here. My hand reached for the necklace around my neck and my fingers twirled the skull pendant.

Tucking it under my shirt, I glanced around, my bare feet cool against the hardwood.

He touched something deep inside me, engraved himself on my flesh, into my marrow and there was no letting go.

I promised him I’d never leave and I intended to keep that promise. Despite the darkness around him, he also had light in him. Or maybe it was exactly his darkness that appealed to me.

I was so deep in my daydreams that I never heard the steps.

“Now I understand what has been keeping my son busy,” an unfamiliar voice drifted through the air. I whirled around and came face-to-face with a much older version of Basilio. A much darker, much crueler version.

It was peculiar because physically the son and father looked very much alike. His jet black hair had silver strands all throughout. Basilio was an inch or two taller than his father and though both were strong, his father looked stockier because he was shorter. I had no doubt that Basilio would look like his father in his old age.

Yet, something about the cruelty in this man’s eyes differentiated him from Bas. Basilio could never become this man.

The ruthless head of the New York City Syndicate stood barely five feet away from me.

Uncle and Killian may have kept Juliette and myself blind to the underworld, but I'd heard enough stories about Gio DiLustro to know it wasn't smart to be alone with him. Or to be on his radar.

My heart tripped but I kept my face expressionless. After all, I have had years of practice.