King's Captive: A Dark Mafia Romance

by Piper Stone

  I found myself wanting to challenge him, especially since he’d never shown interest in his children before let alone given any of us reason to believe he adored our mother. If this was his attempt at some kind of an olive branch, a moment of fatherly love, it was far too late. “Noted, Father.” As I walked out of the room, I felt a sense of sadness.

  Maybe he was right.

  Maybe he was wrong.

  Only time would tell, and time was one thing I didn’t have.

  I’d only moved into the entrance foyer before the door burst open, Lucian storming inside.

  “What the fuck did you just do?” he demanded, closing the distance until we were only inches apart. The look in his eyes was as riddled with rage as I knew mine must be.

  “What had to be done. Mario is a problem.”

  “Yeah? Well, he’s my problem. You had no right.”

  I shifted even closer, controlling my breathing. “While you are allowed to have your own soldiers, you need to keep in mind that every one of them works for me. I run the organization, Lucian. Not you.”

  The tension between us was worse than it had ever been, his breathing labored.

  “You’re nothing but a bully, Cristiano. You think you can rule with the same kind of hatred and anger that’s existed for centuries. That way of thinking is going to finally get you killed.”

  “Maybe so, brother. However, you seem to forget that our enemies are attempting to close in, to eradicate a solid portion of our kingdom. I refuse to allow that to happen. Use any means necessary. I suggest you remember your place in this family.”

  After a few seconds, he tipped his head and took a step to the side. When I walked past him and toward the door, he laughed. “On the day of your murder, very few people will be upset, Cristiano. Including me.”

  Chapter 15

  Emily

  Prisoner.

  A person captured or kept and confined by an enemy.

  The definition was clinical but accurate.

  But where was an explanation as to why I continued to be attracted to him?

  Was Cristiano my enemy or was he merely another victim? That was the question that I hadn’t been able to answer. The night of passion had been… incredible. Every touch of his hand, every kiss, let alone the way he’d fucked me twice during the middle of the night had been intense and powerful, leaving me breathless each time. He’d also broken down the thick walls he’d kept himself secured behind enough to allow me to see the man underneath the heavy burden of carved stone.

  Yet I remained apprehensive, uncertain of the feelings washing through me, leaving my mind a blur and my heart racing. I wanted to care about him, at least a part of me did. But the nagging in my gut refused to allow me to surrender to my desires.

  Or my heart.

  He was dangerous, one hell of an angry man. He was also enigmatic and enthralling, sensual and passionate.

  And very cold.

  I was unable to fathom the life he’d led, the choices he’d been forced to make over the years. He’d given all of himself to a lifestyle not of his choosing. What kind of family did that to their own children? I shuddered at the thought as I gazed at the clock for the fifth time in less than twenty minutes. A wedding dress. I was supposed to pick out some frilly thing in order to stand by his side, reciting vows I had no place saying, ones that held no meaning.

  Could they ever?

  I’d read about arranged marriages from history books to romance novels. There were still mail-order brides who agreed to marry an unknown man for the chance to live in the United States. Then there were marriages agreed to by members of certain families in an effort to soothe a rivalry or bridge two of them together. In this case, I’d agreed to marrying my captor to keep him out of prison for a crime. I wasn’t certain what that made me. An accomplice to a crime?

  I fisted one hand, digging my nails into my skin. How the hell could I go through with it? He’d promised me a dowry, a freaking dowry like we lived in the eighteen hundreds. Money. Jewelry. Trips to tropical locations or Swiss chalets. No, he hadn’t promised exactly. He’d stated what I could expect in his usual commanding demeanor.

  Then he’d reminded me that there would also be rules to obey and if I didn’t, the punishment would be swift. Yep. That was a marriage made in heaven.

  As I shifted back and forth from one foot to the other, I was cognizant of the damn plug he’d made me wear. While I’d selected a dress with very soft material, the fabric managed to remind me every time I made a move that I’d been spanked the night before.

  Like a bad little girl.

  I cringed at the thought, wanting nothing more than to rip out the thick rubber, but I knew at some point I’d be checked for insolence.

  The sound of heavy footsteps forced me to close my eyes.

  “I’m sorry to interrupt you, miss… I mean we need to go.”

  The sound of the soldier’s voice was at least pleasing. “Porter.”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “Miss Porter, but you can call me Emily.” I finally turned to look at him and was surprised that he wasn’t a rough as Dimitri. There were no outward scars and his eyes weren’t hardened from years of his savage duty. He also couldn’t be more than twenty-three. While he wore a suit, I could easily see the outline of a weapon.

  He gave a respectful nod. “Miss Porter. I’m Nick. Nick Spice.”

  A nervous laugh slipped past my lips and immediately I placed my hand over my mouth for a few seconds. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t funny.”

  “You can laugh. Everyone else does about my name.” He grinned for a few seconds before regaining a serious expression. “We need to go, Miss Porter. Mr. King doesn’t take well to tardiness.”

  “I don’t think he takes well to anything.”

  There was a slight spark in his eyes although he remained quiet, merely moving so I could walk out the door first. However, when we got to the front door, he stepped in front of me. “I need to go first. Just stay here.”

  I held back, my pulse racing when he opened the door. Just the thought of living this way every day was horrifying.

  Nick kept his hand on his weapon as he walked outside, scanning the surroundings before motioning me into the light, opening the back door of an SUV.

  The heat was already oppressive, the bright sun cutting through the thick canopy of trees. I shielded my eyes, turning my attention to the house. The façade was beautiful, a mixture of Victorian with a taste of Georgian plantation. I wasn’t certain what to expect, but the gorgeous house wasn’t it. As with everything I’d seen inside, the massive double front wraparound porch didn’t show signs of tender loving care.

  There were no plants or outdoor furniture. There wasn’t a lovely decorative flag hanging from a flagpole. And there certainly wasn’t a welcoming wreath on the door.

  Another moment of sadness washed into my system. I noticed a second car, the engine already running. I shuddered at the realization that Cristiano wasn’t taking any chances with regard to my life. Was I really in danger? Would someone attempt to kill me because of my relationship with the mafia?

  Breathe, Emily. Breathe.

  That wasn’t going to be possible.

  As I got into the vehicle, I continued looking at the house, imagining for just a few seconds what it would look like with a fresh coat of vibrant paint on the front door, several planters full of flowers adorning the steps, and a swing hanging from the porch ceiling.

  Just another fantasy.

  When Nick climbed inside, he took a look in the rearview mirror before starting the engine. As soon as he did, the door locks engaged, the slight sound more overpowering than normal. I was jittery as hell, my hands shaking. As he pulled out of the driveway, I realized that I hadn’t been made to wear a blindfold. It was another ridiculous thought to make me laugh, the action forcing my stomach to hurt.

  I hadn’t been able to eat breakfast. The thought of food had been revolting.

  “Where are we
going, Nick?” I was curious as to what part of town I was being carted away to. I turned around, watching as the other SUV rolled in behind us.

  “I don’t know the name, Miss Porter, but it’s in uptown on Magazine Street.”

  I knew enough about the area to realize that two of the poshest bridal stores were located there. I still couldn’t figure out why Cristiano was bothering with lavishly spending money on an event that was mostly for show.

  Unless he planned on publicizing the nuptials in the press. That sounded very much like something he’d do.

  “Thank you,” I whispered. The windows were tinted and if I had to guess, I’d say the vehicle itself was bulletproof. I watched as all the beautiful houses passed by, the tree-lined streets and sidewalks like something out of a magazine. I could stand watching the world roll by, one that I didn’t belong to.

  “No problem, Miss Porter.”

  “You really can call me Emily.”

  “No can do. Mr. King wouldn’t like that. You deserve respect.”

  “Fuck Mr. King.”

  I heard a slight noise like he was attempting to hide a chuckle. “He said you were feisty. I’m sorry, Miss Porter. I hope I didn’t insult you.”

  “You can relax, Nick. I have no idea why I’m here or what I’m doing, and I’m certainly not going to bite your head off or turn you in to the great Mr. King. Whatever you say to me is in confidence.”

  He tipped his head, allowing me to see his grin. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Why do you work for him, Nick?”

  “Because he and his brothers are good to me.”

  Good. I wanted to ask him to define what that meant. “But you’re always in danger.”

  “Not always. It’s not like we have wars on the streets every day. As a matter of fact, there hasn’t been anything like that since I came to work for the King family.”

  “Then what do you do for them?”

  He was obviously choosing his words very carefully. “Until now, keeping the peace. I’m sorry, Miss Porter. I don’t think Mr. King would like me to disclose anything about his business.”

  “Even if I’m going to become his wife?”

  There was no doubt about the shock crossing his face or the happiness. I couldn’t have been more surprised. “That’s fantastic. I’m so happy for the both of you.”

  For some insane reason, I didn’t want to burst his bubble. “I guess we shall see.”

  “I know he has a reputation of being a hard man, but I could tell by the look in his eyes how much he cares for you. Just sit back and relax. We will be there in a few minutes.”

  Relax.

  The word was likely no longer in my vocabulary.

  As I slumped down in the seat, crossing my arms, my thoughts drifted to what Cristiano might do to my poor boss. Then again, was he a part of this attempt to destroy the King family? I thought about everything I’d seen and heard during the course of several months. I’d worked closely with Mr. Dublin, more so than anyone else had. Were there some reports I’d seen that were questionable? Yes. And financials that seemed out of order? Absolutely. But was a dour little man like Mr. Dublin Mr. Vendez’s enforcer of some kind?

  “We’re here, Miss Porter.”

  As he allowed me outside of the vehicle, hurrying me toward the door, I took several deep breaths.

  The moment I walked inside I almost had a panic attack. Every single piece of furniture from the tables to the chairs was frosted in white, flecks of gold embedded into the paint. There were fresh flowers everywhere, the scent of roses assaulting my senses. A sea of white and ivory dresses was hanging on racks on two walls, the most exquisite jewels encrusting glorious veils. There was a scent of vanilla and jasmine coming from carefully positioned candles. And the damn music was Mozart, for God’s sake.

  “I can’t do this,” I whispered, backing against Nick’s massive frame. A fleeting thought entered my mind. What if I told the store clerk that I was a captive?

  I knew the answer. That person would be hurt trying to help me. I was cornered. There were no other choices.

  “Yes, you can. You don’t want to disappoint Mr. King. Do you?” Nick asked quietly.

  I had my answer and the one he needed to hear. As a smiling woman approached, I thought I was going to be sick.

  However, her smile was genuine as she held out her hand. “You must be Emily. I’m Sheila. I’m one of the owners of this store. Mr. King speaks of you very highly.”

  While I allowed her to take my hand, the butterflies remained in my stomach. “Thank you. I’m not certain why I’m here.”

  “Don’t be nervous,” she said, barely giving Nick a second glance. It was obvious she knew exactly who Cristiano was. “I know selecting the perfect dress can be scary but I’m here to make this a very special day. Come with me. I have a room set up for you. You have the entire store to yourself today.”

  A room.

  I didn’t need to look at single one of the price tags to know just how expensive the dresses were. They weren’t me. I was a simple girl with modest needs.

  But I allowed her to lead me down a hallway and into a room the size of a freaking house. There was a platform in front of three standing mirrors, plush chairs, and a table full of fruit, cheeses, and chocolates as well as bottles of water and a chilled bottle of Cristal champagne. I’d never felt so out of place anywhere before in my life.

  I stood in the middle of the room, trying to catch my breath. When I felt a hand on my arm, I jumped.

  “My goodness. You don’t have to worry, Emily. You really are going to have a good time. Now, I’ve taken the liberty of selecting a few dresses for you to look at and try on if you’d like, but you are free to choose any dress within the store.”

  “And Mr. King? Did he pick out a dress or two as well?” When she didn’t answer immediately, I found the courage to look her in the eyes. “He did. Didn’t he?”

  She was just as uncomfortable as I was, trying to hide the fact behind her kind smile. “He did seem to like two of them very much, but he was insistent that I not try and influence you in any way.”

  “So you’re telling me that he actually came here?”

  “Why, yes, he did.”

  “He doesn’t know anything about me, what kind of clothes I prefer or even my favorite color. He merely had one of his flunkies pick out some beautiful clothes for me. I couldn’t even do it myself,” I insisted as I walked closer to the table of food, staring at the strawberries, allowing one of the few wonderful memories to take over the ugliness in my mind. He’d been playful and sweet, allowing me to enjoy without pressure. He’d even kept me close to him all night, his arm wrapped around me.

  So protective.

  So… loving.

  No. No. This was an arrangement. I was doing him a favor. I’d become a wealthy, influential woman. Wasn’t that something?

  Sheila walked toward the table, expertly opening the bottle of champagne and pouring a single glass. After making certain I took the flute, she gave me a serious look. “I’m well aware who Mr. King is and about his reputation. I recognized him the moment he walked into my other store.”

  “Your other store?”

  “Yes, my sister and I own this shop as well as a women’s clothing store on Bourbon Street. Mr. King followed me here yesterday to ensure that you would be able to find what you were looking for.”

  The butterflies stirred in my tummy. Did he actually give a damn?

  “Sophia’s,” I said, the beautiful pink bags with white cursive writing floating into my mind.

  “Yes.” Her eyes lit up. “You look fabulous in that dress by the way.”

  “How did he know my size?”

  She laughed as she walked toward a rack of dresses. “Well, he described you to me and mentioned we were about the same size. He was right. He also said you were extremely beautiful. He wasn’t exaggerating.”

  An involuntary smile crossed my face. “He actually said that?”

  S
heila pulled a dress into her hands, turning to face me. “I’ve spent the majority of my life in retail, so I assure you I’m very observant. I know exactly what the newspapers and television stations say about him and the King family. Maybe it’s true, maybe it’s not. However, he is also a man first and foremost. You’ve caught more than just his attention. Enjoy this time, Emily. Whatever the arrangement, it will be your special day. Don’t let anyone take that from you.”

  My special day. I took a sip of champagne as I studied the dress she held out, trying to envision myself wearing a gown of white when I felt tarnished.

  Maybe I would be wearing a dress of scarlet.

  As I thought about Cristiano, the small pitter-patter in my heart pissed me off. I was falling for the brooding, dark, dangerous, and merciless man.

  May God help me.

  “That’s beautiful. I’d like to try it on.”

  Sheila lit up even more. “Absolutely. The dressing room is through those swinging doors. I’ll be happy to help if you need, but you can take your time. Anything you need, just let me know.”

  “Just one thing.”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Can we change the music to something more modern? I’m sick to death of classical music.”

  She burst into laughter, rolling her eyes. “Oh, thank God, honey. If I have to hear this loop one more time, I’m going to lose my mind. I’ll be right back.” After securing the hanger, still allowing me to see just how exquisite the dress really was, she left the room.

  Sighing, I took another sip of champagne before placing the glass on the table and moving toward the dress. I held it in front of me, turning to face the mirror. I almost looked like a princess.

  Maybe fairytales did come true.

  Only my hero wouldn’t arrive on a fabulous white steed.

  He’d arrive in a bulletproof automobile.

  Cristiano

  “Ricardo. It’s good to see you again,” I stated with no inflection as Dimitri and I sat down at the table the little prick had selected, the coffee shop in the heart of the French Quarter. I was actually surprised that he’d actually made the contact, insisting that he had vital information. He’d selected a table in the back, indicating he was afraid of being seen.