Page 4 of Kidnapped By the Mafia

He leans in, his breath warm against my cheek, and then—he kisses me.

It’s not gentle or hesitant. It’s fierce, urgent, like he’s been waiting for this moment just as long as I have.

His lips are soft yet demanding, and I find myself melting into him, my body reacting before my mind can catch up. My hands move to his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart through the fabric of his suit.

For a moment, the world tilts on its axis, everything that’s happened tonight falling away as I lose myself in the feel of his mouth on mine.

The kiss is consuming, obliterating the darkness that’s been weighing me down, and for the first time in what feels like forever, I don’t feel alone. I feel alive.

But just as quickly as it began, it ends.

He pulls back, and the world comes crashing in, the music, the laughter, the clinking glasses—everything I’d managed to forget in those fleeting moments.

I stare at him, my heart still racing from the kiss, trying to make sense of the sudden shift.

His expression is unreadable, the warmth in his eyes replaced by something guarded, almost distant. The warmth I saw in his eyes has gone like it was never there.

“You should go,” he says, his voice soft but firm. “Before you get hurt.”

The sting of rejection is sharp, slicing through the haze of our shared moment. I feel foolish, standing here in my ragged clothes, thinking I could be a part of this world, even for a second.

I force a smile, though it feels more like a grimace. “No need to go weird,” I say, my voice tight. “It was just a kiss.”

He looks at me then, really looks at me, and for a moment, I think I see something flicker in his eyes—regret, maybe, or longing—but it’s gone before I can be sure. “I didn’t mean to lead you on,” he says, his tone gentle but firm. “You have no idea who I am, do you?”

“Should I?”

He stops, searching for the right words, but I’ve heard enough. I step back, putting distance between us, my face burning with embarrassment.

“It’s fine,” I cut in, wanting to end this conversation before it gets any worse. “Look, Lucas. No harm done. Anyway, I should be going. Sooner or later they’ll work out I’m a gatecrasher and throw me out anyway.”

“I’d like to see them try,” he says and then he says a command I can’t disobey. “I’ll be right back. Don’t move.”

3

LUCAS

Ileave her at the edge of the grand ballroom, the noise of the party a distant hum as my focus returns to my target.

“Who was she?” a voice asks.

I look left to find my ever-loyal consigliere appear beside me, nursing a glass of whiskey. “Who?” I ask.

“The woman you kissed. The one twenty years your junior. The one who distracted you enough for you to ignore two senators and the mayor.”

He chuckles softly, his eyes scanning the room, taking in the sycophants in their designer clothes, the forced smiles, the empty laughter.

“Room full of women all invited to show you their charms, get you in the marrying mood. Then you go and choose a gatecrasher to lock lips with.”

I smirk, swirling the liquid in my glass. “They’re here for themselves, Jake, not me.”

He nods, taking a sip of his drink. “There was me thinking they were here to celebrate you buying this building.”

“A chance to get hitched to my bank account,” I counter, my tone sharp.

He watches me closely, sensing the shift in my mood. “So, what’s next? You’ve bought the building at last. Chalk up another asset for our empire. Now what?”

My lips twitch into a faint smile, though there’s little warmth in it. “The son of a bitch over there. He’s still doing it.”

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