Page 30 of Darkest Sin

He watches me for a long moment, his gaze narrowed as if contemplating actually entertaining my bullshit. As the seconds tick by, I become certain that he’s about to walk out of here, leaving me hanging, but then he raises his chin. “Go on,” he instructs. “What is it you need from me?”

“Okay,” I say, ripping it off like a Band-Aid, starting with the basics. “I consent to you using my body at will. However, it’s a two-way street. If you get to fuck me whenever the feeling strikes, then I get to ride your cock at my say-so. If you’re in some kind of business meeting and I need to fuck, then you’ll excuse yourself to take care of me, just as I’m expected to spread my thighs and bend over for you.”

He rubs a hand down his face, taking a step back to put space between us. “Business is business. I will not excuse myself to fuck you,” he states. “However, I brought you here, and if you have needs, then they are my responsibility. If you need to fuck, we’ll fuck.”

I nod, feeling as though we’re gaining traction. “Okay,” I continue. “I’m on board with you referring to me as Angel or Sweet Angel. However, I would like it if you could call me by my name. It’s the only piece of me that is truly mine, and I wish to hold on to it.”

His gaze hardens. “I will not.”

“You will,” I push, fixing him with a hard stare, letting him know that this is a hill I’m one hundred percent ready to die on. “My name is Chiara and when you call for me, you will use it. I will not forfeit my identity for you or any man.”

“In my line of business, I cannot have anything linking you back to your old life. You belong to me now.”

“Are you willing to compromise?” I question, all too curious about what this particular line of business is that would require me to lose my name. Though considering he’s kidnapped me from a trafficking ring, it couldn’t be anything good. “I am not attached to my surname. I never knew my parents. I grew up in foster care, jumping from home to home. I believe my surname was given to me by the state after I was dumped at the doors of an orphanage with no way to identify myself. I can part with that if you wish.”

He considers me a moment before finally nodding. “Okay,” he says. “You have yourself a deal. I will call you by your name. Is there anything else?”

Nerves sink heavily into my stomach, and I figure now might be my only chance to get this out. “I know that you claimed me as your own in that underground warehouse, and for some reason, you saved me from that misery. I will never be able to thank you enough. But you will not address me as your property. I wish to be your equal, and I know that’s not something you can offer me. However, I would like it if you could try, or if it could be something we work toward. I wish to come and go as I please and you need to trust that I will come home to you.”

He shakes his head. “No. I cannot allow that.”

Clenching my jaw, I push him a little harder, relying on his infatuation to carry this home. “You can and will. This is your home after all, is it not? You can allow anything you like, and while you have offered me free rein, you have also offered me limitations. I don’t do well when someone puts limits on me. If you wish for me to have free rein, then offer it openly and freely. I won’t lie to you. I am intrigued by you, and while you scare the shit out of me, you also draw me in. You have warned me of the dangers of betraying you, of refusing you, and I trust you to keep your word. So I am asking the same of you. Trust me. Trust me when I tell you that I will not betray you.”

“That’s not something I am willing to bend on, Chiara,” he says, using my name for the first time. “However, given time, it is something I am willing to discuss again.”

“Okay, good.”

“I do wonder, if I am not to refer to you as my property, then what shall you be?”

I shake my head, hesitating as I step in a little closer and rest my hand against his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart through his suit.

I look up into those dark, stormy eyes, my chin lifting. “That’s for you to decide.”

His eyes flame as his hand comes down on top of mine, maybe just a little more than a slight infatuation. He takes my waist with his other hand, pulling me in against him as he leans in, letting me see the dangerous man who lives inside. “I am not the hero you think I am, Angel. I am not a good man.”

I swallow hard, my voice a breathy whisper through my room. “I’m under no illusion that you are a hero. However, when I look into your eyes, I know that you won’t hurt me.”

He holds my stare, almost looking just as confused about this as I am. “No, I will not.”

“I don’t know what this is,” I murmur, our hands still joined over his chest, “this connection between us, but I know you feel it too.”

He nods. “I find it better not to ask questions. Don’t try to confuse this.”

I nod, realizing I’m starting to push him too far. I pull back out of his hold and fix him with another stare. “I just have one more condition,” I whisper, my hands starting to shake again. He narrows his gaze, probably wondering what else I could possibly want, but considering he’s been so generous in our negotiations, I figure now is the best time to ask. “I need to know if you only brought me here because you want me to give you a child.”

His eyes widen with surprise. “How do you know about that?”

I shrug my shoulders. “You’re the head of the DeLorenzo family and splashed all over every news channel that ever existed. You’re the world’s most wanted man, so would I be crazy in admitting that I’ve watched more than one true crime documentary about you?” I question. “Now, I don’t know much about mafia politics or how things are supposed to work, but what I do know is that you require an heir to inherit your position after you pass. I guess I can’t help but wonder if that’s the reason why I’m here. Also,” I admit, “I kinda heard whispers about it.”

Killian arches a brow as he watches me. “I won’t lie to you, Chiara,” he says, and my name in that accent does wicked things to me. “The thought of impregnating you with my heir has occurred to me on more than one occasion, and in case you haven’t noticed, we haven’t exactly been practicing safe sex. If you were to fall pregnant, then so be it.”

“And if I’m not ready to be someone’s mother?”

“Nobody is asking you to be a mother,” he offers. “Not unless you feel that you’re ready to take that step. However, I see how strong and courageous you are and believe any child would be lucky to have you as his mother.”

I let out a shaky breath. “Okay. Shit just got real,” I tell him, trying not to let on just how shaken the idea has made me. Is he actively trying to knock me up? Fuck that. I’m not ready for this. I’m barely even an adult myself. “How is it that I’m cool living in the home of the world’s most terrifying man, but the thought of having a baby at twenty-three makes me want to hurl?”

“Do you need a moment?”

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