Page 15 of Captured By the Mafia Boss
It makes me painfully hard. I imagine having sex with her on this table. Sweeping away all the crockery from dinner onto the floor and bending her over. She’s naked under that shirt. It would be too easy…
“You really want to protect me?” She rises and saunters over, pausing almost within my reach.
“Yes.” I’d do anything for her.
She leans in. “Then will you tell me one thing? Truthfully this time?”
I catch her scent and it’s intoxicating. Not her perfume, but the essence of her skin is like wild roses over a mountain stream in summer. From here I can see the flecks of navy in her eyes again. I indulge in looking, and it fills me up. The sight of her.
“Yes.”
I feel the blade on my throat before my brain catches up.
Fuck.
Olivia’s knife. In a flash I realise why her rolled-up sleeves were so bulky. She found and hid it, ready.
I’d forgotten. I couldn’t risk leaving it anywhere in the palace in Camden, so I brought her little blade here, away from pryingeyes. A stupid, sentimental impulse to keep the knife Lia tried to use to kill me.
I’ve let my guard down, and now I’m going to pay the price.
With my life.
7
OLIVIA
“Don’t leave.”
I laugh mirthlessly. “I think you’re misunderstanding how revenge and escape work.” I press the knife into his neck. Close, but not close enough to break the skin. My other hand is on his shoulder. The same shoulder that pressed to my thigh as he made me come.
I shake the thought away. He murdered my father. Despite what he says, he probably murdered Trudy. He definitely murdered his own brother.
If he gives oral sex like a god that doesn’t make up for his less appealing qualities.
“I brought you here because you’re in danger,” King says mildly.
“You said.”
“Kill me, fine. But don’t die yourself because you’re too proud to take my advice.”
It’s a weird thing to say when you’re about to snuff it, and I consider. But I don’t move the knife. “You killed my father.”
“No.”
If this blade weren’t poisoned, I’d draw just a tiny bit of blood, so he knows I’m serious. But instead, I shift around so I can see his face. My heart skips.
It’s impassive. The hard lines of his jaw and the firm set of his generous mouth show no sign of fear.
“Are you going to spin a yarn that Henry killed him too?”
Henry seems to be the villain de jour, and although he hit me once, I’m sceptical. He lost his temper, but surely golden boy Henry wouldn’t…
Am I kidding myself?
“I think your father was trying to break off the match between you and Henry.”
“What?”
