by Kiera Silver
Once again, Danika shook her head. “I didn’t tell Edmond to send you to boarding school. In fact, I tried to change his mind, because I knew it would only make you resent me more, and I thought you were at a vulnerable point in life, too young and unsure to go away to school. He promised it was only for one semester, until we settled into married life, but he lied. Just like everything else, he lied about that.” She took a deep breath, her eyes on Kane as he moved the last few feet behind Stephanie, holding it for a long moment, until she was certain the girl hadn’t noticed his movements. “Don’t you see that it wasn’t because of me that he sent you away? You just got too old to satisfy his cravings, Stephanie. You weren’t Daddy’s little girl any longer.”
“Bitch, I’ll always be his little girl.” She gripped the gun with both hands, determination clear in every line and groove of her face. With careful precision, Stephanie aimed the pistol square at Danika’s heart. As she started to squeeze the trigger, the crash of a porcelain angel against her head interrupted her. She crumpled to the floor, eyes closed.
Danika jumped to her feet, rushing over to Kane, who was kneeling beside Stephanie. He eased the gun from her hand before checking the girl’s pulse. She knelt beside him, gripping his arm. “Is she all right?”
He nodded. “She’s just unconscious. The girl will wake up with a headache in an hour or two, but will be no worse for wear.” Kane sighed. “I suspect that will be the least of her problems.”
She brushed strands of matted hair from Stephanie’s forehead. “I guess she came home early and heard us. When I tried to guess who might have wanted me dead, it never occurred to me that it would be her. I knew she resented me, but I never imagined how much…or why.” A wave of nausea swept up her throat, and only a forceful swallow kept it down. “I wondered in the back of my mind if Edmond had hurt her, but couldn’t find a way to ask. I tried to tell myself he couldn’t have, that she was too normal, loved him too much, for it to be possible. But I still wondered.” She looked up from her stepdaughter, meeting Kane’s concerned gaze. “How could he do that to her? She was only six when her mother killed herself. He ruined her life.”
His arm was solid comfort around her waist as he helped her to her feet. “He deserves to die again and again for what he’s done. I only wish I had the pleasure of killing him a few more times. I don’t know how his mind worked, and I can’t pretend to understand his sick needs. It is probably too late to help Stephanie, but it isn’t too late to help yourself.”
She shook her head, not comprehending.
“We have to get out of here, Danika. If the police come, Stephanie will tell them everything. We’ll go to prison for killing Edmond.”
She swallowed as the grim reality set in. “I can’t leave her here.”
“We’ll call for help right before we leave.” He gripped her hand, guiding her to the stairs. “Think of your baby. Do you want her to visit you in prison someday, to be raised in foster care?”
She shook her head, finding her feet ascending the stairs without conscious direction of her brain. “I know you’re right. It’s just so sudden. Where will I go?”
“We’ll go to Paris. I have an apartment there. We’ll get new identities, and I will never need to take an assignment again. I don’t think I could now, after you’ve brought my emotions back to life. But we don’t need to worry about finances. I have enough money to keep us in comfort for the rest of our lives.” Briefly, he touched her belly. “The rest of hers too.”
“Paris.” It was all happening so fast that she could barely comprehend everything. “Are you sure you want me to go with you? For how long?”
Kane’s gaze was direct, his expression open, with a touch of vulnerability. “Forever, if that’s what you want.”
“What about the baby?” She looked down at her stomach, feeling the compulsion to avoid his eyes. “Can you raise her as yours, knowing what you do about her father?”
His fingers were gentle when he tipped up her chin. “I don’t care about who donated half of her genes. I can love her as much as I love her mother, because she will be a part of you. Edmond Rich has nothing to do with her. Nothing at all.”
His words gave her hope, and excitement stirred, blotting out some of the confusion swirling through her. “You’re sure?”
“I’m positive. I will be her father. I promise you that, Danika. I will take care of both of you, if you give me the chance. You and…Melissa?”
Kane suggested the name with so much hope that she couldn’t bear to refuse. She nodded, finding it almost impossible to speak because of the lump of moisture in her throat. “I’ve heard Paris is beautiful at Christmastime.”
“Paris is beautiful anytime.” He leaned forward to press his lips to hers, his kiss one of reassurance, rather than passion. When he lifted his head, he said, “We’ll live happily there.”
She nodded, her doubts cast aside. Danika clung to his hand as they hurried up the stairs so she could pack. She had no doubts that she and Kane would live happily in Paris. They could live happily anywhere, now that they had found each other.
THE END
Keep reading for bonus content: PATRICK: A Dark Mafia Romance
Ready for the next Dark Mafia Romance read?
Check out SHANE, available now
If you enjoyed this story, please consider leaving a review.
Sign up for Kiera’s newsletter to receive information about new releases and more
Bonus Read: PATRICK
About Patrick
Patrick Murphy leads the Irish mafia in his city. He could have any woman he wants, except the one he’s forbidden himself to take—his ward, Lauren. He longs for her and craves her. Until now, he’s managed to keep her out of his arms by sending her out of the country.
Now that she’s finished with college and back home, his resolve is crumbling. She’s determined to have him, and it’s impossible to fight her and himself. If…when…he surrenders, he knows she’ll hate him for doing so once she learns his darkest secret.
He killed her father.
This story contains violent and sexual situations that might offend some readers. If you don’t enjoy dark romances, this might not be the book for you. However, if you enjoy a possessive Alpha mafia man torn between conscience and desire, prepare to meet “Patrick.”
Chapter One
Patrick Murphy had been dreading this day for four years. Dreading it almost as much as he was looking forward to it. As the limousine appeared on the long driveway to his home, he walked the remaining marble stairs down to the drive, waiting for the car to draw up before him. He didn’t allow the driver time to open the door when the vehicle came to a stop. Instead, he opened it himself and caught his breath the sight of a shapely leg exiting, followed by another, and then the rest of her.
Lauren stepped out of the back of the vehicle and immediately threw herself into his arms, her long blonde curls wrapping around him possessively. He braced himself with a grunt, even as his arms wrapped around her and pulled her closer. He never wanted to let go. With a small sigh, he gently urged her backward when she would have clung to him. “It’s good to see you, Lauren.”
She still wore a large smile. “I’m so happy to be home, Patrick. No more Ireland.” She laughed with delight.
In spite of himself, he could feel his lips curving up to a small smile. “That’s the mother country, so show some respect.”
She rolled her beautiful blue eyes at him. “I wouldn’t know, since I was cloistered at that all-girls’ university for the last four years. We left the grounds maybe ten times the entire time I was there.”
He shrugged, deciding not to renew the argument between them about it being for her own safety. What did it matter now, since she had finished at the university and was back in the city? At least until he could find another reason to send her away. The thought ripped through him, making him catch his breath harshly, but he didn’t betray the reaction. It had to be done, and he would ju
st have to make Lauren see reason. She wouldn’t like being sent somewhere else again, but she had to be safe. Safe from enemies, and safe from him.
As she walked into the house beside him, Lauren put her arm around his waist in a seemingly unconscious gesture of affection. He stiffened, his first impulse to push her away for her own good. His second impulse was to pull her closer, take her to the nearest bedroom, and ravish her innocent young body. He couldn’t do either one, so he endured with gritted teeth as they strolled through his house, which would be hers for a while again. Her room waited upstairs just as she had left it, and it was a relief to escort her to her door with the intention of leaving her there.
She looked disappointed. “You aren’t coming in?”
Into her room, where there was a bed, one that would more than suffice for laying her down and taking her? Hell no, he wasn’t coming in. Patrick just shook his head. “I’ve got some business to attend to, but I’ll see you at dinner.” In an attempt to be paternalistic, he leaned down and kissed her forehead. He was aware of her scowl at the act, but he pretended not to see it. “Get settled in, and we’ll catch up later.”
She nodded, clearly unhappy with the situation, but deciding not to press him. Perhaps she had grown up in the past four years. Maybe she had started to realize he wasn’t a replacement father, and it wasn’t safe to be around him. Not just because he led the Irish mafia in their city, but also because he wanted her, craved her, and couldn’t trust himself around her.
As he walked away from her door, still feeling the phantom weight of her arm around his waist, he uttered a soft curse. He’d seen her occasionally over the past four years, most recently last Christmas, when he’d flown to Belfast and driven the three hundred kilometers to her university, but he’d hoped his desire had waned since then. It hadn’t, and it was a jolting realization to find he wanted the innocent young woman as much as he had from the time she was seventeen and came under his care.
He was just as determined as ever to protect her from his enemies and himself, but for just a moment, he wished it could be different. As he entered his office, his guards remaining behind on the outside of the door, he reminded himself wishes were useless. It couldn’t be different. She was twenty-two to his forty years old, and she was innocent and sweet, as yet untainted by the harsher realities of life.
He was a fucking mob boss, for fuck’s sake. He was plenty fucking tainted for both of them. His sleeves were stained red from all the blood on his hands, and he had no right to drag her into his world.
Most of all, she wouldn’t want him if she knew the truth, all the truth. He had accepted that long ago. Even if he was willing to overlook the risks to her by claiming her as his woman, by acting on the crush that she still seemed to have on him, turning it to an adult desire instead, the truth would always remain between them. The truth she didn’t know, but would make her hate him.
He had killed her father.
Chapter Two
Lauren’s room was exactly as she’d left it, which was slightly embarrassing. She had been eighteen the last time she’d lived here, and only briefly. With no other family, she had been lucky Patrick Murphy took her in after her father’s death. She was grateful for that, and she knew she should be, but it still didn’t make her feel better about the fact he had sent her to boarding school to finish high school within a month of her moving into his house.
Then she’d been back for the summer, before he’d sent her away again, this time to Ireland, of all places, because of concerns that whomever had killed her father might go after her too. Ireland was his home country, albeit several generations removed, and he had a deep fondness for it. She wasn’t entirely sure what her heritage was, because she had no idea who her mother was. Her father had been Scotch-Irish, so she supposed Ireland was somewhat her home country. That hadn’t kept her from hating every minute of it.
Oh, the Catholic university where he’d stuck her had been beautiful, its campus quiet and conducive to education, but it had lacked something vital for her existence. Patrick Murphy himself.
She winced, imagining how he would laugh himself silly if he ever realized the crush she had for him. Crush was such a tame word, and it barely began to scratch the surface of her feelings. She had taken one look at him the night he had come to the small apartment she’d shared with her father and broken the news gently that her dad was dead, for her to feel something life-changing. It wasn’t the first time she’d seen Shane over the years, but it had been the first time she’d seen him through a woman’s eyes.
Not that she’d realized what it was then, so consumed by grief. It had taken a couple of weeks, long enough for the initial anguish of her father’s passing to settle in like a heavy shroud and become part of her, before she’d realized she felt more than gratitude for the mysterious man. It was insane, but she had fallen in love with him at the age of seventeen, even knowing he was a mob boss.
She wasn’t entirely sure if he knew she knew, but he’d revealed enough over the years for her to piece it together. Even before reaching the conclusion that he was involved in the same shady lifestyle as her father, she had known he wasn’t an accountant or a doctor, or even a traditional entrepreneur. He’d always had an air of danger around him, a darkness in his inner core that, for some reason, called to the lightness in hers.
She loved making him smile or laugh, since it was something he did infrequently. Seeing his hazel eyes light up with amusement was enough to make her happy for days. Unfortunately, he wouldn’t allow her to spend much time with him. Patrick said it was for her safety, which she understood, but this time, she was home for good regardless of his arguments. She wouldn’t allow him to send her away or push her away again.
She had made that resolution to herself on the plane back home. The last four-and-a-half years had been building to this point, and she wasn’t going to give in without a fight.
She also wasn’t naïve enough to believe there wouldn’t be a fight.
Patrick was an honorable man, despite his profession, and she knew once she made her interest plain, he would immediately reject the idea. The age difference would give him pause, and so would the fact he was her father’s contemporary, not hers. Most of all, she knew he would want to shelter her from the life he led.
It was an admirable goal, but she was prepared to accept him, all of him, to have him. He did bad things, but he’d always been good to her. He was a bad man, but he could also be a good man. She’d seen that on every occasion in which they had interacted.
She loved Patrick Murphy, and she was going to show him. The time had come to claim her man.
Patrick was already seated at the table when she came in a few minutes late for dinner. He had just taken a sip of his wine and nearly choked on it when he got a look at the dress she wore. She had certainly gone all out for a simple meal with him at home. The fuchsia sheath dress clung to her hips and thighs like a lover, showing every bit of her body, or at least every nook and curve. His cock was almost as tight as his lips when he looked at her, anger warring with desire. “What are you wearing?”
“A dress,” she said with a careless shrug as she seated herself, not waiting for him to rise and hold her chair.
“I concede it’s part of a dress, but where’s the rest of it?”
With a saucy snap of her napkin, she unfolded and slipped it over her lap, clearly planning to ignore his question. “What’s for dinner?”
He shrugged, forcing nonchalance he didn’t feel. “I think Mrs. Quimby made your favorite.” He knew for a fact she had, because he had planned the menu with the cook himself.
As though hearing her name had summoned her, the cook wheeled in a cart and distributed their plates, starting first with Patrick before moving to Lauren. “It’s good to have you back, Miss Lauren.” The short, chubby chef placed the plate before her and with lifted the salver with a flourish. “Steak with béarnaise sauce, grilled asparagus, and dill baby potatoes. Is that still your favori
te, my dear?”
Lauren nodded eagerly, holding her knife and fork aloft like she was about to dive in. “As always, Mrs. Quimby. Especially when you make it.”
She shouldn’t have lived with him long enough for her to have a favorite, having only been in his home for a few months total, but she had. And Mrs. Quimby remembered her favorites. He shifted slightly in his seat, uncomfortable by the notion that he remembered them as well. He remembered far too much about her to be comfortable with it.
They ate quietly for the first few minutes, Lauren clearly savoring her steak. The blissful look on her face made his trousers uncomfortably tight, especially as he imagined her lips wrapped around his cock instead of a fork. Would she look that way as she sucked him? Would she make those soft sounds of pleasure, and would she swallow his essence the same way she swallowed the steak, clearly enjoying every second?
Sternly, he reminded himself he would never find out. After giving her a few minutes to savor the steak, he started speaking. “I have news for you.”
She paused reluctantly, clearly having a difficult time tearing herself away from her meal. “What’s that?” She dabbed at her lips with the linen napkin after asking. Lips painted some kind of vivid fuchsia that only highlighted their plump contours and made him think wicked thoughts.
Realizing she was staring at him expectantly, he cleared his throat and refocused his attention. “I have a friend who works in a magazine in London. Some kind of design magazine, and she would be happy to give you an internship. If all goes well, you could be writing for the magazine within a year or so.”
She tipped her head slightly. “That’s a lovely idea, but no thank you.”
