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

“Is he going to follow us everywhere?” Sienna asks, and I nod.

Connor insisted I have a security team, and after much debate, I agreed to one man. Although, George is the size of two men. Much like Connor but with short brown hair, and I’m not sure he knows how to smile.

Then again, that’s not his job.

I’m used to having protection, but for Sienna, this is new. Along with the paparazzi trailing us. They’re keeping their distance, and I suspect it’s because they think George is a mobster—something I’m not going to correct.

“Yes,” I reply, pushing open the door to Toast Bar. “It’s better than having cameras right up in our face, trust me.”

“They weren’t not in our face.” Sienna shoots me a look as we spot Duncan and Isabelle and wave. “They literally swarmed you when we walked out of the building.”

It could’ve been a lot worse, but I don’t argue. None of this is fun or normal for her. Or for me. I’ve been in the shadows of the Mancini mafia world, protected and of little interest to the U.S. media.

Now that’s all changed because I’m marrying Connor. The fact my father is Joe Mancini is just an added bonus. The response from the public has been a mix, and Tim said that’s to be expected.

Mostly, it’s positive, aside from the broken hearts of women around America. To quote Fox News.

On my end, my phone has been going crazy with my relatives and friends from my other world. They’re shocked and wondering what my father thinks.

The answer is, he’s not happy. I haven’t heard from him since the news broke, but he’s expecting us for dinner, and I know he’ll have a lot to say.

Or he’ll threaten Connor and tell him to break it off.

I’m not sure. This is unchartered waters for me.

For tonight, I organized drinks with my friends so they understand this engagement doesn’t change anything. After this is all over, I will pick my life back up, and I want these three to be a part of it.

I won’t be a mafia princess—technically—and I won’t be a billionaire’s wife.

I’ll just be Mia.

Isabelle leaps off her stool and grabs my hand.

The Rock of Gibraltar is totally the star of the show. One of the morning shows did a whole segment on it. Even I learned a few things watching it on my phone in Connor’s office. When I glanced at him in surprise after hearing the diamond is graded a D on the DIA scale—the highest and most rare rating you could buy—he just shrugged.

“I could hardly get you a ring from Diamonds Are Us.”

“That’s not even a real place.” I laughed, but I knew what he meant. A billionaire would buy the woman he loved an important ring of value.

Isabelle squeezes my fingers and gasps. “I can’t believe you’re marrying Connor Barrett. You kept that a big secret. Oh my God, look at this thing.”

“It’s insane,” Sienna says, ordering us two glasses of the house wine.

Our usual.

The plastic cards in my purse seem to be screaming at me. Along with Connor’s to make this look legit, you need to look like a blushing, happy bride-to-be and spend my money.

“Let me, Sen.” I grab the bartender’s attention. “Two bottles of your best champagne.” I wave the black plastic at him, and his eyes widen as he nods.

Sienna frowns at me.

“The chardonnay would’ve been fine,” she mutters, then slips onto a stool.

I’m stuck in the middle of trying to be just Mia and also keeping up with this billionaire’s wife charade. It’s impossible.

I want to tell her, but I can’t. It’s too risky, and I promised Connor. I trust Sienna, but she doesn’t know the stakes here, and if for some reason she said something, it would impact a lot of people.

And Connor’s organization.

And my future.

“I can’t believe you’re the mafia princess,” Duncan says, shaking his head. “Mancini. I remember seeing your photo in the paper when I was much younger. You had this black dress on…Was it a funeral?”

My mother’s. But I keep that to myself. I want this to be a happy night.

“Can’t believe I didn’t piece it together,” he continues.

Isabelle wriggles in her seat excitedly as the flutes are placed in front of us and the champagne corks popped.

Dom Perignon.

Not my favorite, but it looks fancy enough.

“I think it’s exciting. What’s it like being in the mafia? Some of those guys are so hot. Dangerous, I know, but it’s kind of thrilling,” Isabelle says, and I glance down to hide my cringe.

She’s just the type of blonde they’d love to play with and toss away. Not hot.

“Trust me, it’s not as romantic as the movies make it out to be,” I reply. “Also, I’m not in the mafia. I was born into it. I love my family, but I’d do anything to live a normal life.”

“By marrying a billionaire?” Sienna lifts her glass full of golden bubbles, studying them.

Ouch.

I push back the hurt, even though I see the immediate regret on her face.

“Sen!” Isabelle cries. “You can’t choose who you fall in love with. I bet he’s nice.”

I nearly snort. Nice isn’t a word to describe Connor.

Serious, sexual, mysterious, demanding…Those are words, for starters. Nice? Hell no.

“I’m sorry. I’m still trying to understand how you dated a man, fell in love, and are now engaged, and I didn’t know a thing. We talk and see each other nearly every day,” Sienna says.

Because it’s not true.

Guilt laces through me, and I reach across and squeeze her hand, my eyes pleading for her patience. Sienna gives me a small smile.

“Well, congratulations, Mia. I hope you and Connor are very happy together and that you don’t forget us,” Duncan adds.

“Congratulations,” Isabelle and Sienna say simultaneously, and we all clink glasses and sip away.

“I’m not going to forget any of you.” I place my flute in front of me. “I’m getting married, not dying. I just live at a different address and will have a husband.”

A fake husband

Temporarily.

I feel almost desperate for them to believe me. Once I get away from the bonds of my family and divorce Connor, things will be back to normal. I’ll be single, independent, and a business owner. Whatever that business might be.

Note to self: create a profitable business in six months. I have some ideas, but with limited experience and only my business degree under my belt, I know it could take years of learning, failing, and one day succeeding, but I’m asking for a miracle.

I need to financially provide for myself, and when I divorce Connor, I’ll only have the remainder of my trust fund to support me.

It’s more than most people ever have, but it won’t last forever.

“So, what’s he like?” Isabelle asks, leaning her chin on her hands, like I’m about to tell a romantic story.

The strange thing is, I blush.

George leans against the bar nearby and accepts a glass of water from the barman. I really hope he’s not listening.

“He’s…” How do I explain Connor? “Intense. Romantic,” I add on the end and quickly gulp my champagne.

There’s not a romantic bone in Connor’s body.

“Well, he did send her about seven million red roses yesterday.” Sienna takes a long swig of her champagne.

“Thirty-six,” I correct because we both counted them.

She sends me a grin.

“Did he get down on one knee?” Isabelle drawls, and Duncan rolls his eyes. I’ve often wondered if there is anything between the two of them. Either way, it’s clear Duncan likes Iz as far more than just a friend.

Whether she’s aware or not is another story.

Isabelle is still waiting to hear the details of the proposal. The one where Connor said he had better ask me to marry him. The one where he slid the ring on my finger, told me another man should do this, then left me standing alone.

Alone.

Engaged.

Wondering what the hell I am doing.

I blink and focus back on my friends, then give them the story Connor and I agreed on.

“It was romantic. We were out on his yacht, cruising along the Hudson, the sun setting. We were in the back of the craft with a blanket over us, drinking champagne and listening to the sounds of the water,” I say, getting far more poetic than Connor had. “Then he just suddenly sat up, kissed me, and slid to his knees. It surprised me, of course. We had only been dating a brief time.”

Isabelle has little hearts in her eyes as she sighs.

Sienna narrows her eyes. “And you said yes that night? Wait, when did you go out on the boat?”

Shit.

She basically knows everything I do every day.

“Oh, well, it was the other weekend,” I lie.

“Didn’t you say he asked you last weekend?” she asks, looking increasingly disbelieving.

Crap.

“Maria, my sister,” a masculine voice says from behind me, and I spin around.

Cade?

Any distraction would’ve been good. But not this one. Not after hearing him discuss a marriage between me and Salvo. I hate that he hadn’t warned me. Or been on my side.

I guess I’m just upset with him, and I certainly don’t trust him.

I turn and force a smile, wondering what he’s doing here? Did he follow me?

“Cade?” I say, trying to get down off my stool, but he’s crowding me. I glance at George, who pushes away from the bar and makes his way over to me with haste.

“Step away from Ms. Mancini, please, sir.”

“Oh my God.” Isabelle gasps dramatically. “Are you mobsters?”

Jesus, Isabelle, no.

“Yes, ma’am. Big dangerous baddies.” Cade smirks, shooting his men standing behind him a grin, then shifts his eyes back to me, completely ignoring George. “Mia, you need to stop this nonsense and come home.”

Despite George’s presence, I wish Connor was here. I know the marriage is a sham, but I don’t like that Cade’s calling it nonsense. I have no doubt my fake fiancé would have something to say to Cade, if he ever had the nerve to say it to Connor’s face.

Does Cade really expect me to grab my purse and say, You’re right, I’m an idiot. Let’s go.

He’s an idiot.

“Is this your brother?” Sienna asks as George says, “Sir, I need you to please take a step back.”

My eyes dart around, aware this is about to escalate. I am furious my friends are going to witness all of this because my brother can’t keep his nose out of my business. I hate that they’re nervous…Well, except Isabelle, who is thrilled by it all.

“Cade—” I start.

“Get the fuck away, man. This is my sister,” Cade demands, and two gangsters step up behind him in support.

“My God.” Isabelle gasps dramatically.

“Izzy, shut it,” Sienna growls.

“Cade, please don’t make a scene. I’m with my friends, having a drink, and I’m not going anywhere.” I lean closer to George and glance at the two goons behind my brother.

I’m suddenly grateful Connor insisted on the big guy, even if I don’t believe my brother would hurt me. Or force me. Although, I’m starting to wonder, as I watch anger fill his eyes.

“Did Papa put you up to this?” I snap.

George pulls out his phone and lifts it to his ear.

Cade ignores me, and his eyes drift over the scene. My friends, the champagne, my outfit I wore at the press conference. “This engagement is bullshit. You need to come home right now. You have responsibilities, Mia.”

George steps in between us and holds up his palm.

“Ms. Mancini is leaving.”

I am?

“Do you know who the fuck I am?” Cade asks, shoving at George’s shoulder.

So much happens in the next ten seconds.

George spins and grips my brother’s neck, growling at him to move away. Cade’s men pull out their guns and cock them, pointing at George’s forehead. Isabelle squeals. Stools screech along the floor.

“Fuck,” Sienna curses under her breath.

“Jesus Christ,” Duncan says, sliding off his chair and tugging Isabelle with him.

“Cade, stop it!” I cry, as two new men in black suits descend upon us with guns raised, pointing at the two gangsters.

Connor’s security.

“Drop your weapons,” one of the men says with complete and deadly calm and no question that he will act if they don’t obey.

I know. I’ve seen men in action all my life.

Cade glares at me.

George’s hand is still locked around his neck.

“Bad move, sister of mine. Tell them to step aside and come with me.”

Fuck.

“Ms. Mancini, please come with me,” one of the security men says, reaching out his hand.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

This is bad.

When my father hears Connor’s men have pulled weapons on his people, including my brother, he’ll be furious.

But the more I think about it, I just can’t see my father sending Cade to retrieve me like this. He knows we are coming to dinner in a few days.

“I’m not going anywhere with you, Cade. Tell them to drop the weapons before the police turn up,” I say angrily, then lean in and whisper so only those closest to us can hear. “I’m engaged. I’m not yours to boss around or sell to the highest bidder anymore. Leave before this gets messy. There are dozens of reporters outside. Joe won’t like that, and you know it.”

Cade’s eyes flare, but he holds mine for several moments, then finally nods. George releases him, and Cade says, “Let’s go.”

His two goonies lower their guns, and Connor’s men take a step back. It’s like a well-orchestrated dance, each man taking a step back and to the side, until Cade and his guys finally turn and leave the bar.

Isabelle lets out an audible breath and clasps her hands to her chest. “Holy smokes, I cannot believe that just happened.”

George is crowding me, but I glance at Sienna, who’s shaking her head. “You okay?”

“So that’s your life, huh?” she says.

“No. It’s not. That’s my brother being upset about the news. That’s all,” I reply.

It’s way more than that.

Cade retreating confirms something to me. Joe, my father, didn’t send him. I’m starting to wonder exactly why my brother is concerning himself with a marriage contract involving me.

Whatever it is, he needs to back the truck up. I’m marrying Connor.

Honestly, I don’t know if there is anyone in my family I can trust since my mother died. I want to trust my father, but we want different things for our lives. My uncle Jimmy will take his side. I hope my aunts will act as advocates now my mother has passed, but if I’m being honest with myself, I’m on my own.

Even Connor will only protect me for the timeframe of our agreement.

Six months. That’s all I have.

“Yeah, well, my brother would probably just send me a shitty text, not pull a gun, you know,” Sienna replies.

“You don’t have a brother.” I try not to grin, but when she stares at the huge security guys around me and her eyes return to me all Jesus, they are hot, we both laugh.

Because they are.

“I’m so sorry, you guys,” I say, my smile fading. “I promise this is not what life with me is going to be like.”

I had put them at risk.

“Ms. Mancini. Care to tell us what just happened?” a guy in a bad suit asks.

Great.

The media.

Connor is going to kick my ass.

I groan.

“No comment,” I mutter as George nods at me that it’s time to leave. Grabbing my purse, I give my friends a smile and slide off the stool. “I’m so sorry. Stay, enjoy the champagne, and I’ll see you tomorrow, Sen.”

“Text me when you get home so I know you’re safe,” she says, darting the three huge security guys behind me a look. Then blushes. “Which I’m sure you will be.”

As they whisk me out of the bar, past the media, and into a waiting car outside, my phone rings.

“Mia Mancini,” I answer.

I know who it is. I can see the name on my screen.

Connor’s dark voice says, “Your ass better be in the car and on the way home.”

I let out a sigh.

MACK HOLDS THE elevator door open as I step out. Connor is standing with his back to me, his arms crossed. He turns and, ignoring me, stares at Mack over my shoulder. They do some silent exchange of information, then Connor nods, and I hear the elevator door slide closed behind me.

Connor’s eyes finally meet mine.

I knew he would be pissed, mostly because of the media, but this seems a little extreme.

“Are you okay?” he asks, first in a growl, his voice incredibly dark.

“Yes,” I reply, then lower my brows. “Why are you so mad?”

I’m getting a little over all these grumpy men around me. All I wanted was a few hours with my friends. Now I want a bath, to read a book and just zone out of this insane world I have somehow created.

“Your brother tried to take you from me.” Connor stalks toward me, and I swallow, heat flushing through me.

Despite my body reacting, I didn’t miss his terminology. Take me? What is it with these men seeing me as a goddamn possession.

“I’m not a painting, Connor. No one can take me from anyone. I belong to myself.” I plant my hands on my hips after dropping my purse to the floor.

He’s right, though.

I saw it in Cade’s eyes. Given the chance, Cade would’ve pulled me out of Toast Bar and taken me back to the Mancini residence.

Or worse. Vitale.

An icy shiver runs through me.

What would my life be like right at this moment if it weren’t for this powerful man standing furiously in front of me, protecting me?

“From now on, you’ll have three of my men with you when you walk out the door,” Connor says, ignoring my comment.

My mouth drops open.

“Why don’t you just tie me up and keep me here?” I say, shaking my head.

“Sweetheart, I’d gladly do that if it wasn’t against the law,” Connor replies, and my mouth suddenly slams shut.

I’m not sure if I’m highly aroused or terrified.

Both.

And…now my panties are soaked.

Connor takes the last few steps and grips the back of my neck with one hand and the small of my back with his other, tugging me up against his large, solid body. “Right now, I need to claim back what’s mine.”

Oh God.

Yes, please.

But also, I’m still irked at his claim of me. Perhaps this just isn’t the time to argue. Wet panties and all that.

I’m bent backward as Connor’s mouth descends, and he begins ravaging my mouth. Sucking, lapping at my lips, my tongue, my chin, my jaw.

“My fucking fiancé,” he growls, and I’m breathless as he scoops me up and plants me on the hall table, shoving up my dress.

I tremble in need, shaken and aroused by his unapologetic claim.

“Fuck,” I whimper as he tosses my panties, spreads my legs, and then drops to his knees while palming my thighs on either side of my pussy.

“Connor,” I say, gasping.

“Louder,” he demands, his tongue sweeping through my folds, flicking with the right amount of force.

Jesus.

Pleasure fills my core, and I’m worried I’m going to come immediately. I don’t want it to end. I never want it to end with this man. I press into his mouth, my body arching as I grip the edge of the table.

“Oh God, oh God, oh my God,” I groan.

“Sweet fucking pussy,” Connor says, his fingers teasing my hole. “No one is taking this from me.”

Oh shit.

He keeps teasing, his mouth clamping onto my clit, and then I scream his name. As my orgasm hits hard, waves of it continuing in bursts, Connor rips off his shirt, and I run my hands over his rippling muscles. His pants drop to the floor.

“Mia,” he cries, slamming into me, one palm on the wall above my head.

With those deep eyes locked with mine, I gaze into them like he’s all I could ever hope for. I don’t want anyone to take me from him either.

But I don’t belong to him. I’m my own woman. I will never sell my soul.

Even though it feels like Connor Barrett already owns it.