Page 77 of My Mafia King

I don’t want her to be scared of me.

I don’t want women to be scared of me, in general, but making her feel safe is the antithesis of everything I am and know about myself.

What struck me as unusual was how much her request had resonated with me. I knew what she was talking about.

We are the kind of men who sleep with our guns next to our pillows. Or on the nightstands. Or in the drawers. Or sometimes even clutched in our hands.

I’m familiar with wanting to have someone watch over you while you’re asleep.

But… In real life. In my life. In‘the life’, that thing is impossible. I can’t trust someone to the point that they replace my guns.

That’s a fact.

So, while that particular feeling is not new to me, I’ve never been asked to do that for anyone.

I’m usually the man people lose their sleep over, not the one helping them to sleep.

But things are different with her.

She didn’t see me like that man. Maybe she didn’t want to. Maybe she couldn’t. Or maybe her instinct told her something else.

After having that nice chit-chat with her ex and her having a breakdown over what had happened, there was no secret about what kind of business I was in.

I’m counting on her to keep her mouth shut.

I’d hate to be forced to make a decision I don’t want to make and would thoroughly regret for the rest of my life.

So, I don’t know what was in her head.

I think she was genuine.

I could tell she was tired.

She’d been roughed up by that dickhead, not to mention the things she’d witnessed downstairs.

And that goes back to what I said before.

As perfectly unaware as she was, as powerful as she was without even knowing.

And there was something else.

I was impressed with how bold she was.

She was who she was with me, and for once in my life, someone had talked to me like I was just another guy.

It was a nice break from my usual life.

I have to admit.

When I pressed my back against the headboard, and she put her head on the pillow, I knew exactly what she longed for.

I could see through her. And that made me feel something I hadn’t felt in a while. Not in that form, anyway.

I cared. That doesn’t happen every day.

Sure, I care about things. Money. The business I run. The dickheads I’m dealing with. Sometimes, the dark justice I impart.

But I don't care about another person the way I care for her.

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