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

I carry her to the bed and settle on it. “Mia.”

Jesus, no one has ever reacted so dramatically before. The agency normally deals with the paperwork, but from time to time, I do meet women I want to sleep with, so I have a contract on file, which I or Mack will print and prepare.

I never picked Mia for the fainting type.

Not that I know her, but I know terror, and something triggered it. She’s not going to tell me, so all I can do is make sure she is okay before I send her home.

My cock is as flat as a pancake. Watching a woman nearly faint is not exactly arousing. Nor are the vanilla bra and panties she’s wearing, but they weren’t a problem five minutes ago.

She pats my pec. “I’m fine, sorry. Just my blood sugar must be low. I haven’t eaten today.”

To say I’m disappointed is a complete under-exaggeration. The delicious tension that had been building between us now drifting away, like an extinguished flame.

All while Mia continues her it’s fine mantra.

Her eyes lift to mine, and I become aware I’m just sitting here against my headboard, holding her. When the hell have I ever done that before with a woman?

Then I ask, “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” she says. “Hungry.”

I accept the night isn’t going to end how I want it to, and while I suspect she’s not telling me the truth, I decide its better if I just go along with it.

She’ll be gone in ten minutes.

We need to talk business.

What, in any of those words, could cause someone to have a near panic attack? Because that’s what it was. The marine in me recognizes her symptoms and knows how fear feels.

Mia blinks those icy eyes at me, and her cheeks blush.

“You don’t need to be embarrassed.”

“So stupid,” she says, shaking her head.

With my arms wrapped around her, I feel a sense of protection, even though I’ve only just met her.

I don’t want her to go or run, I realize. I want to feed her and see if we can revive the sizzling chemistry that just died a quick death.

“How about some eggs?” I say, running my hand over her forehead, brushing her hair back.

“You’re going to make me eggs?” she asks incredulously.

I let out a quick laugh.

“Yes, but full disclosure. It’s completely selfish. I want to fuck you tonight, and I’m not a man who gives up easily,” I confess.

My eyes drift over her gorgeous features. With her hair down, cascading over her shoulders, she looks older than the twenty-four years she told me in the car. It frames her stunning crystal eyes and those lashes I have no doubt attract the envy of many women.

She blinks when she notices me staring.

My lips curve. “You are very beautiful, Mia.”

“So are you,” she replies, and when my lip twitches, she adds, “Well, you are.”

I can’t help myself; I laugh.

“Come on,” Mia says. “As if you don’t get told that every day.”

Yes, I know.

My body is strong, virile, and muscular. I’ve created every ripple. Not to attract women, although I’m not unhappy about that additional benefit. My physique sends a message to those around me and has kept me alive.

It could still keep me alive if the day comes I need the physical power.

It’s for survival.

“People don’t walk around, telling me I’m beautiful,” I reply, moving us off the bed.

She surprises me by blushing when she glances down at herself, still in just her bra and panties.

“Clearly, I wasn’t expecting the night to end like this,” Mia groans. “I have much nicer lingerie.”

“I have no doubt.” I find myself wanting to see it, but I don’t want her putting on her uniform again, so I lead her into my wardrobe, pull the first shirt off the rack, and hold it up so she can put her arms through it.

“Thanks.” She smiles, doing up a few buttons.

It’s huge on her, and something inside of me tugs at the vision of her in my shirt.

A stupid business shirt.

Jesus. I need to feed her, fuck her, and get rid of her.

Instead, I find myself sitting on the sofa, listening to her chatter while she sips the hot chocolate I made for her.

Who am I?

“I’M JUST SAYING, if you added some color, this entire place would feel so different.” Mia is curled up next to me, drinking the last of her second mug of hot chocolate.

I’m drinking whiskey. My arm lies along the back of the sofa, while Mia has her legs tucked up under her. The tail of my shirt exposes her thighs, and while I’ve seen nearly all of her, the desire to see more is growing again.

Yet I’m strangely enjoying just listening to her talk. Mia is smart, animated, and totally unaware of just how sexy she is.

She yawns, and I’m sizing up that mouth of hers.

I haven’t forgotten why she’s here.

Fuck her and send her home.

“I like it just as it is,” I say, then hear myself ask, “What color?”

She turns and grins. “A couple of plants would be a good start. Some throw cushions. Warm colors. Cream, gold, and perhaps a pink throw.”

I nearly spray my Macallan over her.

“I think you’ve got me confused with Russell from accounting.” I wonder if she’ll get my joke.

Jokes on me, apparently.

Jesus, the Dark Kings would be grinning their asses off right now. In the past hour, I’ve dressed this woman, boiled the jug and put marshmallows in her goddamn hot chocolate, and now I’m sitting here, listening to her house décor tips—pink fucking décor—instead of fucking her senseless.

Listening to her chat has been amusing, however. In the past twenty minutes, Mia has asked me a lot of questions—all of which I’ve avoided answering—and she’s told me nothing about herself.

It’s been the most non-sexual, real intimate moment I’ve spent with another human in a very long time.

Which is why she needs to leave.

I have no space in my life for any kind of relationship. Nothing that doesn’t contribute to my purpose.

Revenge.

Mia leans forward, her foot dropping to the floor, and puts her mug on the coffee table. Then she turns to me and places a hand on my thigh. I ignore how much I like her touch and resist telling her to move up higher. Only because her brows are bunched, and it looks like she’s about to say something serious.

“I’m sorry about earlier. I wish I could explain what happened, but I can’t. It’s too—”

I shake my head.

“Mia, I’m not a sensitive man. You don’t need to explain.” Although, I am curious, and something is nagging at me about it. “But I do want to fuck you. If you don’t, I can take you home.”

She tugs on her bottom, and my cock jumps to attention.

I’m strongly sensing a yes here.

My shirt drapes across her silky olive shoulder, exposing the curve of her breast. I run a finger across it, nudging the material and then taking her nipple between my fingers.

She leans into it, and her lids lower.

“Sign the document and submit to me, Mia. Then let me lick your cunt and listen to you scream.”

She gasps, and those crystal eyes sparkle as I pull her closer and take her mouth in mine.