Page 104 of My Mafia King

He has no intention of shooting me, but I’ve run out of words and can’t stop talking.

He places his gun back on the nightstand before crashing into the pillow.

“What are you doing here, Carmina?” he asks, covering his eyes with his forearm.

“I told you. I was––”

“What are you doing here, Carmina?” he barks, like someone who hasn’t slept in a while and wholeheartedly resents late night visitors like me.

I pull the sides of my robe together and stall, not knowing how to proceed.

I take a step closer and sniff the air.

“Have you been smoking?” I ask softly, and magically, his arm slides off his face.

He tilts his eyes to me, a bit amused.

“Yes. Do you have a problem with that?” he asks, a bit fascinated with my brazenness and still madly entertained.

“No. No problem. I have no problem.”

He breaks his stare away from me, slides his arm under his head, and closes his eyes.

I don’t move.

“Are you still here?” he murmurs.

“Yes. I can’t sleep.”

“What do you want?”

“To talk.”

He doesn’t say anything for a few good moments.

“You know… There are other places in this hotel where you could sleep,” he says.

“I’m not trying to bother you.”

“Say that again,” he dares me, and I know better than to run my mouth again.

Quietly, I kneel next to his bed, set my arms on the edge of the bed, and rest my chin on them, surreptitiously studying the tattoos on his arms and the broadness of his chest.

He doesn’t move, although he’s perfectly aware I’m here, sitting on my knees on the floor, looking at him.

“I know what you did for me,” I say.

“You do…” he throws at me coldly, skepticism tinging his voice.

“Yes. Yes, I do. And I know you’ve considered all the options, including getting rid of me.”

I suck in a clipped breath.

“I also know that all the options can be back on the table at any given time. And you might need to get rid of me, anyway. Whether you want it or not. I know it’s a sacrifice.”

He opens his eyes and tilts his gaze in my direction.

Our eyes lock.

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