His Target: A Dark Mafia Romance

by Bella King

  “Leave it in the lot and take the black sedan in lot number twelve. It has fuzzy dice,” Vlad says with a smile.

  “I don’t care about dice.”

  “No? I thought it was you who was the poker guy.”

  I laugh. “Not me, but nice try. I guess I don’t make myself a familiar face around here often enough.”

  “You were always one for the shadows,” Vlad says.

  “It’s safer there,” I reply, putting on my jacket.

  “Indeed, it is.”

  I leave Vlad’s office, picking up the keys to the new sedan from the receptionist.

  I left Alexia at the hotel. I don’t feel comfortable letting her out of my sight, but at the same time, I can’t bring her to the office. For one, she wouldn’t get past security, and two, even if they let her in, she’d know something was up. This is mafia territory, and the minute you enter the building, you’re painfully aware of it.

  I twirl the keys around in my hand. At least I have my answers as to why the grocery store was shot up so badly. I’m a target for a small rival mafia gang after taking down their boss unknowingly and getting caught on one of the dozen hidden cameras in the vicinity. Now, I have to camp out in Mexico until Vlad pulls some strings and takes care of the issue.

  I fear that it will take months, if not years, to resolve this completely.

  I don’t have that kind of time. I can’t marry Alexia in Mexico, and I’m not going to romance her for that long either. I’ll have to think of something else. San Diego might be okay, but we should go out of state.

  It’s hot outside when I leave the drab grey building, and the sun makes itself very well known on the back of my neck as I walk toward my new car. It’s probably a thousand degrees in there with the black exterior. I wonder why they never use brighter colors in the mafia.

  But I won’t complain about it too much. The car is brand new, and it’ll be a much better experience than the one I drove to California. That thing was about to fall apart by the time we got here, and the rain fucked with the engine. They’ll have to call a tow truck to get it off the property.

  It’s not my problem anymore.

  I slide into the seat of my new car, immediately starting it and turning on the air conditioning. Cold air is quick to come from the vents, and I let is splash across my sweaty face before making my way out of the parking lot.

  All the way here, I couldn’t get the thought of Alexia’s perfect body out of my head – the way her skin felt in my hands, the softness of her flesh, the taste of her pussy. Fuck, it makes me hard just thinking about it again. I’m a fool for her, and that’s dangerous.

  I get the feeling that we’re going to be doing a lot more fucking before I execute the remainder of my plan. I want to get every last ounce of enjoyment out of her before I have to put her away for good. A few months in Mexico doesn’t sound all that bad anymore, considering my company.

  But Boris will find out that I’ve already left Portland soon enough, and that means I’ll have to explain to him what’s going on. He may want to intervene at that point, but I’m not going to let him. I still need to spend some time with Alexia to get her warmed up to the idea of getting married. That part is going to be difficult.

  I stop by the gas station to grab a couple of cold drinks for Alexia and me. I’ve learned to avoid lemon, even though it’s one of my favorite flavors. Quite honestly, it’s in everything, so I don’t see how it can be avoided. It’s even in coke, though I wouldn’t tell her that.

  I tell myself that carrying about the little things is all part of the guise. I have to seem obsessed like I can’t stop thinking about her, and then the marriage proposal will make sense. It needs to feel natural for her, but in all honesty, it’s starting to feel natural for me as well.

  I’m not much of an actor, so this method-acting that I’m experiencing tells me more about my true feelings than I wish to know. For now, I choose to ignore the warning signs.

  I’m having a good time, and it’s been a long time since I could genuinely say that.

  Alexia is back at the hotel room, sprawled out on the bed in one of my shirts, and no panties. I’m tempted to think that she’s inviting me for another round, but it’s safer to assume that she’s just getting comfortable around me. I don’t want to give her the wrong impression. I’m more than a sex-crazed criminal.

  “Is the car ready?” she asks cheerfully.

  “Yes, but we’re not leaving until I get some sleep,” I reply.

  “I won’t be able to sleep with you. I’m not tired at all,” she says.

  “That’s fine,” I reply. “You can just stay up and watch TV. It won’t wake me up, and I’ll only be asleep for five hours or so.”

  “You need more sleep than that.”

  “I don’t need any sleep. I just pretend to sleep so that I look normal,” I joke.

  “Maybe you could watch a movie with me before you go to sleep,” she says, sounding more than a little bit needy.

  I chuckle. “You can be on the bed with me while I sleep, but I need to shower first.”

  “Maybe I can join you,” she says, her eyes lighting up.

  Perhaps her partial nudity was an invitation after all. I forget what crazy high sex drives young women have.

  She’s bringing back those days for me as well. I can hardly keep my cock from bouncing up in my clack every time I look at her plump little ass.

  I rub my chin. “The shower is kind of small,” I say.

  She shrugs. “I like being close to you.”

  I can’t argue with that.

  I smile and wave my hand for her to get off the bed and join me. She’s by my side in an instant, following me into the bathroom, already in the process of removing her shirt.

  I should probably start talking to Alexia about the second phase of my plan. I need to lead her into the idea that marriage would be beneficial to both of us. I’ve already concocted a few different versions of the story, but I think that the best one is going to involve money. She needs money more than she needs me.

  I remove my clothes, unable to hide the raging erection between my legs. I don’t attempt to either. I let Alexia stare at it, her mouth open and her expression that of surprise and wonder. It dawns on me that this is the first time that she’s gotten a good look at my cock. I fucked her from behind in the rain yesterday evening. She barely got a glimpse of it.

  “I’d like to talk to you about something,” I say as I step into the shower. The hot water rolls over my shoulders, showing my muscles mercy after having driven for over eight hours.

  “Something bad?” Alexia asks as she climbs in after me. She’s already assuming the worst, but I can’t blame her. I do the same thing.

  “No,” I reply. “Not for you, at least.”

  “I know there are men after you,” she says, looking up at me with determination in her eyes. “I don’t think you’re a bad guy, and I don’t blame you for your past.”

  I can’t resist a smile.

  I grab a bar of soap and start rubbing it across my chest, stepping aside so that she can enjoy the water as I lather up. “It’s nothing about my criminal days. I’m leaving those behind, but I think I need to lay low for a while, you know?”

  She nods.

  “Like, really low. Like, not even in California.”

  “We’re not going to San Diego?” she asks, unable to hide the disappointment in her voice.

  “We can run through there, but I wouldn’t be able to stay. You can stay, if you want to.”

  I’m testing her, but I already know that she won’t like the idea of separating from me. I just need to hear her say it.

  To my delight, Alexia frowns. “I’m going wherever you’re going,” she insists.

  I pass her the soap. “That’s very sweet of you. I was thinking of going to Nevada. We could roll some dice in Vegas, maybe even get married.”

  She laughs, unfazed by my suggestion of marriage, but she skims over it with her reply. �
��It’s your money. We can do whatever you want.”

  My eyes follow the soap as she takes it from me and starts rubbing it over collar bones, working it down to her breasts, and then to her stomach. I lose my words for a moment as I watch her, captivated by the white suds against her skin.

  I snap out of it when she glances up at me. “I wasn’t really joking about the marriage in Vegas thing,” I say, gauging her reaction as the words leave my mouth.

  “A little soon for a wedding, don’t you think?” she asks with a laugh, still believing that I’m speaking in jest.

  “Well, there’s money involved,” I say.

  She perks up at the mention of money.

  I should’ve known she’d be into that. When I was living on the streets, money was the only thing that mattered to me. I would kill anymore for it, and that’s how I ended up as a hitman. I guess that never changed.

  “I know there’s a lot of things you haven’t told me,” she says, squinting her eyes. “And I know we haven’t been together for long enough for me to know everything, but this wasn’t something I expected.”

  “I’m not using you if you were concerned about that,” I reply. “It’s just that the amount is pretty large, and you’re the only person I’ve felt comfortable sharing this with.”

  “I didn’t think you would use me.” She laughs, throwing her wet hair over her slender shoulders. “If anything, I’d be the on using you. I don’t have anything valuable.”

  If only she knew…

  I finish rinsing myself and move to allow her to reach the showerhead again. “I feel weird even talking about this with you, but I’ve wanted to be free from my life for a long time.”

  “What do you mean?” she asks, her voice so innocent. She has no idea that I’m in the mafia. She thinks that my days of crime are behind me and that I’ve turned over a new leaf.

  That’s not too far from the truth, but my days in the mafia end with her life. She’s the key to my door to freedom, and I’ll admit that to her in a way that doesn’t let her know that I’m going to be killing her.

  I take a deep breath, pretending like I’m trying to formulate the thoughts in my head that I already played out a thousand times in my head on the drive here. “I have an inheritance.”

  “Sweet,” she says. “How much is it?”

  “A lot,” I reply. “But there are rules to the contract, and I don’t have a lot of time to satisfy them.”

  She nods, her eyes wide with interest as the suds roll down her body, washed off by the scalding water.

  I pause for effect before continuing. “I was supposed to be married by now. You know, a man my age is expected to have a wife, but I never found one. I just never clicked with anyone.”

  That’s not a lie. I like to keep as much truth to my deceit as possible. It makes it harder for people to find the holes.

  “I can’t imagine any woman saying no to you,” Alexia says.

  I smile. “You’re adorable, but I’ve never been the type of guy that woman wanted to marry. Don’t forget that I was a criminal.”

  “Part of the mafia,” she jokes.

  “Right…”

  “And so, you have to get married to get the inheritance?” she asks, piecing my fabricated story together.

  “Correct. I thought that I wouldn’t be able to pull it off in time, so I gave up on trying to get it. I was supposed to be married before I turned forty, and that happens in a week.”

  “And then you found me,” she says, her face growing serious.

  “Well, I found you by accident, and you’re the only person who I think this might work with,” I say, quick to enforce my original claim of having stumbled upon her by accident. She can’t know about the setup.

  “You find me, you think I’m special, you fuck me really hard in the rain, and then you want to marry me,” she says. “I think I should get some of this inheritance.”

  “Of course,” I say with a smirk. “As my wife, you get half.”

  “Half of what?” she asks, shutting off the water and stepping up to me. Her toes bump into mine as she tilts her small chin up to look into my eyes.

  I don’t flinch. I’ve never been one to crack under pressure, but it’s cute that she’s trying. “Two-million dollars.”

  She tries to contain her excitement, but her pupils grow so large that it’s impossible for her to do so. She looks away quickly so that I don’t see her change of expression, but it’s too late. I know I have her with this offer.

  “What do you say? Do you want to become a millionaire with me?” I ask, extending a hand.

  She doesn’t look at me as she steps out of the shower. “I’ll consider it.”

  I lower my hand, standing in place as she grabs a towel from the rack. I wasn’t expecting a response like that. Either she’s trying to tilt the power dynamics in her favor, or she actually feels the need to consider such a win-win deal.

  Either way, it throws me off for a moment.

  But I’m quick to return to my normal power and charm. I know that I’m still the one who calls the shots in Alexia’s life. I had her roughed up, taken from the streets, and now, I’ll have her marry me, one way or another. I’m certain of that.

  “You still have time to think it over,” I say, toweling myself off beside Alexia. “But not that long. When we get to Vegas, you’ll have to have made up your mind.”

  “Sure,” she says, taking on a familiar tone of distrust.

  I don’t know what I said to bother her, but she’s back to being distrustful. It could be overwhelming for her, or maybe she is just trying to grab a bit of power. She’s never had it before, and I wouldn’t be surprised if that’s what her open-ended answer is about.

  I shrug it off, leaving the shower and heading straight to the bed. I’m slightly annoyed that I didn’t get what I wanted straight away, but it’s not the end of the world. I’m tired, I’d like to sleep, and tomorrow is a new day. I’m sure she’ll turn once she realizes how good of a deal this is for her.

  Except that it won’t be. Agreeing to marry me will be her death sentence, just as I planned.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Alexia

  Something isn’t right here. Zeno may take me for a fool, but I’m not one. I’ve had people try to cheat and manipulate me before, and this seems an awful lot like one of those cases. I want to know the real reason why Zeno wants to marry me, and why he chose me, of all people.

  I still don’t think that his heroic rescue was a coincidence, especially since it was from other Russian thugs. Zeno is one of them, even if he pretends not to be. I’m playing along, but I want to get to the bottom of this.

  I feel like my head is a lot clearer after having sex with him. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, and I have plenty more to do while he sleeps.

  The TV plays some cheap reality show that feels an awful lot like the life I’m living now. It’s obviously fake, but it claims to be real. It’s like an exaggerated shadow of the truth, though, and I don’t like it.

  I wait at least an hour for Zeno to fall asleep. It happens within the first five minutes, but I want him to fall into a deeper sleep before I start snooping. I don’t wish for him to catch me. I’m the one who is doing the catching tonight.

  Once I hear the snores coming from Zeno’s mouth, I slip off the bed, making no sound as my bare feet hit the thin blue nylon carpet. I’m dressed only in one of Zeno’s sweaters. Even though I bought plenty of clothes at the mall, I feel more comfortable wearing something of Zeno’s, even if it is to investigate him for lying. I like him anyway.

  Or, at least, I like the way he makes me feel.

  I inhale the rich scent of him that lingers on the thick woven fabric before I tiptoe to the pair of pants he left on the floor beside the bed. I’m careful not to jingle his belt as I slide my hand into the back pocket, searching for his wallet.

  I’m not stealing from him. I just want to figure out if he’s lying about the marriage deal. There’s
an easy way for me to do that, and it’s hiding between the thin folds of black leather that I pull from his pants pocket.

  I flip open the wallet, scanning the cards inside for an ID. There’s a stack of white cards in the back, so I slip them all out and fan them out with my fingers. All of them are IDs, and none of them are for the same person.

  What’s his deal? He’s not living a double life. This man is living a quadruple life or something. It’s too wild for me to fathom.

  I look through the ID’s hoping that I’m missing something that would make Zeno seem like less of a crook. Unfortunately, the ID’s tell me all that I need to know about Zeno, if that’s even his real name.

  Each ID has a different name on it, but the same smiling picture of Zeno’s handsome face.

  My stomach churns as I read the birth date on each of the cards. Even the one with Zeno’s name on it doesn’t have his birthday anywhere close to this week. None of them even fall on the same month. Either he’s lying about his birthday, or all of his IDs are wrong. I lean toward both being true.

  I stack the cards back neatly and slip them back into the wallet where I found them, leaving no evidence that I ever poked through his stuff. I’m not looking for a confrontation when he wakes up. If I do decide to leave over this, it’s going to be at a time when Zeno doesn’t know. He’ll never see me again.

  I push the wallet back into his pants on the floor and fish through the other pockets for anything that could give me more evidence against him. Part of me wants to stop, to leave Zeno alone and believe his story. I want everything to be right between us, and I want to believe that he’s a good man, just trying to look after a poor, homeless woman.

  But I doubt that’s true, and I’m not in the business of lying to myself. Zeno could still be the man of my dreams, but first, I have to make sure that he’s not the man of my nightmares. I need to discover more.

  My hand closes around a phone in his pocket. This could give me a hell of a lot of evidence unless it has a passcode on it. I pull it out and gaze at the black screen. A fingerprint reader shows up near the bottom of the screen, awaiting Zeno’s thumb.