Page 18 of Captured By the Mafia Boss
“Yes.” Tomorrow I have to go back to my life. Whatever he says about keeping me locked up here, I’ll need to leave. If I move on to a new city, a new life, I’ll be safe.
I’ll never see King again, and my heart twangs uncomfortably at that acknowledgement. But it was never meant to be for us. We’re on two different paths: the dead girl and the mafia boss.
He must do his dirty job.
“But tonight…” There’s one night.
We understand each other with a look.
I move my hand from his neck at the same time as he feints to the side, and in half a second I’m in his arms, and he’s kissing me like I’m air and he’s tied down under six feet of water.
“Lia,” he growls, dragging me flush to him.
The relief that he understands, and wants me, floods over my body like a waterfall. It washes me away.
The knife clatters to the floor, forgotten. Whatever he’s offering, I’m accepting. Yes, this is insanity. There’s no future for us, even with both of us alive.
I reach up and grasp the back of his neck to drag his mouth closer, to deepen the kiss. And he comes so willingly, it’s a second before I notice my hand is wet.
Jerking back, I stare at my palm, smeared with blood.
With horror, my gaze flicks to where I held my knife against his neck. In our haste, I cut him.
The poison will be seeping through his bloodstream, pulling him into death.
I’ve murdered the man I love.
8
KING
Her chest heaves, and I can’t tell if it’s a sob or if she might be sick.
“King.” She says my name brokenly.
“What?”
The slight cut on my neck barely hurts, but my finger comes away damp. It’s nothing, but Olivia is distraught.
She gestures woodenly at the knife on the floor. Her face crumples. “It was laced with poison.”
She falls into a chair, head in her hands.
I pick up the knife—that little ornate blade that I kept because it reminded me of Olivia—and study it. The last time she saw it I stomped it into the mud at Trudy’s funeral. Now though, it is perfectly clean.
Unlike my soul. Because a decent man would remind her of what she knows, and not let her make herself sad. A good man wouldn’t see this as something he can use to his advantage.
But I am not agoodman.
“What poison did you put on it?” I ask casually.
“Lily of the valley. You have an hour. Maybe two at a push.”
“It’ll take that long to get to a hospital.”What will she do if she thinks I have just hours left to live? I’m curious.
Her shoulders shudder, then still. “The helicopter.”
“I can’t fly it if I might lose consciousness. A crash could hurt innocent people. I won’t do that.”
