Page 4 of The Kings
Eliza leans against the balcony railing, a serene statue bathed in moonlight. My eyes drink in the sight of her, lingering on the swell of her hips, the dip of her waist, the rise of her breasts with each breath she takes. I want to taste her lips again, feel her cunt wrapped around my dick, panting, clawing, coming undone.
“One day, little killer, I’ll have you in my bed.”
She is a true queen of the underworld—beautiful, deadly, untouchable—and she will be mine to share.
I’ll let her enjoy her moment of peace because, in a few days, she won’t know what hit her.
3
RAPHAEL
I’ma ghost in the corner of the sprawling living room, my eyes glued to Eliza’s every move. She stares across the grounds from the balcony, leaning on it, deep in thought.
I’m here on business, but watching Eliza, it’s fucking hard to remember that.
“Raphael.” Damon Hughes strides over, full of arrogance duly deserved. I straighten up, my instincts on high alert as the man who commands an empire with a brutality that I aspire to approaches me. His expression is cold with no bullshit.
“You know your role?”
I nod. “Keep her safe at Castle.”
“She’s not just any girl; she’s the queen-in-waiting.”
“Understood. We’ve got her back.”
Damon eyes me, his scrutiny like a physical force pressing down on my shoulders.
“It’s her baptism by fire. She’s been sheltered, kept apart from the game, for a reason. Now, it’s time she plays for her crown.”
My nod is barely perceptible, but he catches it, an acknowledgment of the unspoken challenge. Eliza doesn’t knowit yet, but she’s going to be plunged into a pit of vipers disguised as classmates and friends, and this is her ultimate test to conquer them all.
“Castle University is her kingdom to claim,” he continues, “but she must seize it with her own cunning and strength. She’s entering a clique already formed, their loyalties tested, and alliances forged. She’ll have to rise above them, make them follow her, or fall by her own naivety.”
“Trust me, she won’t fall.” The woman might be a rose, but she’s got thorns, and God help anyone who tries to pluck her without caution.
“See that she doesn’t,” Damon says. “But know your role. You protect her; you don’t help her. This is her fight, and you’re just there to make sure she isn’t killed. Nothing more.”
His final command hangs in the air as he turns, leaving me to watch over the future queen—a queen who has no idea the war she’s about to wage, and whether she likes it or not, I’m going to be right there in the trenches with her.
Protecting, not helping, apparently.
This isn’t exactly a debt owed, but the four most prominent Mafia families in the country have a grudging respect for each other. Healthy, even if there is such a thing. That means we don’t pick fights with each other. Damon’s request filtered through the families, and we all agreed that Eliza would be tested on her own merit, just like everyone else. She doesn’t get a pass. If she fails, that’s on her. Nothing anyone can do about it but her.
“I’ll keep the wolves at bay, but the girl needs to feel the bite to become the leader she’s destined to be.”
Damon’s eyes, two chips of flint in the bright light, appraise me, measuring my boldness. Then, as sudden as a gunshot, his hand comes down hard on my shoulder—a seal of approval from the don himself. His touch is heavy, laden with the unspokentruths of our world: protect, but do not coddle; guide, but do not carry.
“Good,” he grunts, a single word that carries the weight of a thousand expectations. With a last penetrating look, he turns on his heel and disappears into the shadows of the mansion, leaving me alone with the echo of power plays yet to come.
I stride out of the living room, my boots silent on the marble floors. This place is similar to the house I grew up in, so the luxury doesn’t faze me. I expect it. I want it. At Castle, we are the next gen of Mafia leaders, but that respect, that place has to be earned. Nothing is handed on a silver platter because if you can’t hack it in this business, then you will die. It’s as simple as that.
Something tells me the little killer in the short skirt with a pussy that will make a man beg for it, has got the stones for this. I can’t fucking wait to see how she brings the University to its knees.
The night greets me with a chill that cuts through my tee—a welcome relief from the warmth inside.
Moving with purpose towards my car—a midnight blue Porsche 911 that gleams under the moon, it’s more than just a car; it’s a statement, a beast of precision and speed that knows no bounds. Just like Eliza. I slide into the driver’s seat, and the engine roars to life with a purr that promises escape and adrenaline.
There’s work to be done, and I need to get home. As the mansion fades into the rearview mirror, the game begins, and I’m right at the heart of it, ready to play.
