Knocked Up by the Beast: A Mafia Romance (Kingdoms Book 1)

by Aria R. Blue

  Kane is not a nice guy.

  I used to think he was, but that was before what he tried to do the night of the dance.

  Julie doesn’t need to know all that though. And I prefer that she remain oblivious.

  She thinks of Kane as a hard-working respectable man with integrity. That’s how the whole town sees him.

  Only I know the truth, and I plan on taking it with me to the grave.

  “I want love,” I say. “Pure love.”

  Love that won’t ever try to hurt me. Love that will make me a better person. Love that will make each and every day feel like a blessing.

  The thought of it makes my heart swell.

  I’ve always carried this feeling of restlessness inside me. I guess I’m a little lost in this world.

  Without realizing it, I’ve been waiting for a knight in shining armor to come find me. I don’t need saving, but it would be nice to be swept off my feet and adored for the rest of my life.

  Immediately, I think about the mysterious man’s voice.

  It was like unexpected thunder right before a storm. I could feel it all the way down to my bones.

  Who is that, he asked.

  It made me hold my breath. I literally couldn’t breathe.

  I’ve been injected with a dose of curiosity.

  I’m going on this journey for Papa, but what I’m really thinking about is that man with the beautiful, beastly voice.

  Julie crushes me in a hug. “Pure love, huh? God bless you. You’re too sweet for this world.”

  I laugh. She actually looks distressed.

  It should be the other way around. I should be the one fussing over her.

  But this is how it is in our house.

  The three of us look after each other. We take care of one another, and have each other’s backs. It’s been this way for as long as I can remember.

  Hazel comes over and gives me a hug too.

  It’s one of those rare moments when she’s actually in the same room as us. She’s here. Present.

  I look into my older sister’s haunted eyes, and realize that our problems are a polar opposite of one another’s.

  Hazel lives in the past, terrorized by something that lives in her memory.

  I live in the future, delighted by an idea of something that may never be.

  And honestly, I don’t know which is worse.

  “I love you guys,” I say, kissing both of my sisters before I leave.

  As I step out of the cottage and get my mint green scooter started, I can’t help but think of the mysterious red-haired woman from earlier this morning.

  The Beast will be your end, and he will be your beginning…your world will change this December…be wary of the man with the blue eyes.

  The sun penetrates my skin as I drive, melting me like butter on a hot pan.

  My scooter leaves a trail of dust behind me.

  From the side mirror, I can see the white cottage getting smaller and smaller. I get the feeling that I won’t be seeing it for a long time.

  My sisters stand on the front step.

  Hazel has her arms crossed, her lips curved down in a slight frown. Julie is waving goodbye, her face split in half by a blinding grin.

  They get smaller and smaller too, until they’re no longer in sight.

  It’s just me and my scooter and the open road now.

  A nervous excitement makes my blood hum—more excitement than nervousness.

  I’m actually looking forward to this.

  Whatever this is.

  5

  Leo

  I live in the shadows.

  It’s been this way all my life.

  I stay out of people’s way. I keep myself hidden so I don’t offend them with my face.

  I don’t even think about it as something I do. It’s just become second nature by this point.

  It’s what I’m doing right now.

  The thief has been sitting in the front parlor for the last four hours.

  I’ve been watching him from the darkness of the corridor that leads to the living area.

  After the phone call he made to his daughter, I tried to go about my day.

  But she’s been stuck on my mind. She’s taking up all the space inside my head.

  That voice.

  I’m filled with the need to see her and talk to her. All I want is to hear that voice one more time.

  There’s a faint knock at the front door.

  It’s her.

  I don’t know how I know this, but I do.

  I glance at the thief.

  He splays his fingers on his forehead, and shakes his head. It only acts to confirm what I’m hoping for.

  “Is that your daughter?” I ask, trying and failing to steady my voice.

  “Yeah, that’s Belle,” he sighs, peering out through the glass windows. “I don’t know why she came all the way here when I specifically told her not to.”

  Because she’s mine, says a voice in my head.

  I banish that thought as soon as it appears. It makes zero sense that I’m feeling this way.

  No female has ever had even a fraction of the effect that this girl has on me.

  And I haven’t even seen her yet.

  It’s just her voice that has me so spellbound. I’m half-convinced that this girl is a witch.

  That’s the only explanation.

  Either that or this is all a product of my imagination.

  The thief. The girl. The diamond. All of it.

  She knocks again. This time, it’s unsure. There’s a lightness to it.

  “Aren’t you going to open it?” the man asks, raising his bushy eyebrows.

  He can’t see me, but he knows I’m hiding in the shadows.

  The girl’s voice has consumed me to the point of madness. And now, I’m about to meet the owner of that voice.

  God help me.

  I flick my wrist to turn on my smartwatch, and press a few buttons on the screen.

  Everything in this house is automated. I can control every door and appliance using my watch.

  Which means I don’t have to move an inch to open the front door. I can still hide.

  I watch as the front doors slowly start to part.

  At first, all I see is blinding sunlight.

  I’m cloaked by the darkness, but I take a step back anyway. I don’t want her to shrink away in fear when she sees my face.

  The doors reveal her form part by part.

  The first thing I notice is her big doe eyes. They’re a light brown in color. So gorgeous and full of life that I find myself instantly sucked into her orbit.

  Her hair is a darker brown, hanging thick and straight around her face.

  It’s a face that makes me want to grab her by the chin as I press her up against a wall.

  Desire slams into me.

  I want to kiss her. I want to taste those lips so bad.

  God created those big bambi eyes, but her lips are the handiwork of the devil. They’re thick and luscious, begging me to come sink my teeth into them.

  The doors part fully, and she peers into the house, blinking as her eyes adjust to the dim lighting inside.

  There’s absolutely nothing innocent about her body either.

  Even looking at her makes me feel like I’m sinning. She’s a pure thing, young and probably untouched.

  And I’m…me.

  Yet, I can’t help myself. I check her out shamelessly from head to toe.

  From the swell of her breasts underneath her white shirt to the outline of her thighs underneath the blue cotton skirt.

  Her chest rises and falls as she peers inside.

  I can swear that for a moment, her eyes land straight on me.

  It’s impossible for her to spot me, but it’s like she knows that something is lurking for her in the shadows.

  She knows her fate lies with me, just as I know that my life will be forever intertwined with hers.

  “Belle,” her father calls out from his seat on t
he dark suede couch. “I’m over here.”

  Just when I think my cock can’t get any harder, she speaks up. “Papa?”

  Her voice fills up the whole house. It’s both melodic and raw at the same time.

  She rushes to her father’s side, and gets down on her knees. “Papa, why are your wrists tied up?” she exclaims.

  I couldn’t keep an eye on the thief all day, so I shackled his wrists. He seemed to be pretty cooperative, so I didn’t bother to tie his feet.

  He shakes his head. “It’s a giant misunderstanding, Belle. He thinks I tried to steal this diamond from him.”

  “Steal?”

  The thief explains the situation to his daughter. She goes from concerned to fearful.

  I watch her.

  She’s a dance, and I’m mesmerized by everything she does. From the way her mouth moves to the way loose strands of dark hair frame her face.

  By the time the thief finishes speaking, the girl is absolutely livid.

  “This man can’t just tie you up forever for something you haven’t done,” she says.

  “He’s listening to everything we’re saying,” he whispers to his daughter, trying to reign in her anger.

  Her whole face is flushed now, tinged with pink.

  It makes me wonder if her cheeks would look the same after a hard fuck.

  Jesus. What is wrong with me?

  I haven’t even spoken to this girl, and I’m already planning on having her pinned to a bed, thighs spread and inviting…

  Belle stands up, and looks in my direction.

  It’s impossible.

  She shouldn’t be able to see me in the darkness. But her eyes are steady as she looks straight at me.

  “My father is not a thief,” she says.

  I don’t want to fight with her. I don’t want her to hate me.

  But I can’t stop the words that come out of my mouth. “That’ll be up to the police to decide.”

  Her confidence falters when she hears my voice. The blue vein at her throat starts to pulse like a hummingbird’s.

  I never would have imagined.

  She’s as affected by me as I am by her.

  But I’m not a fool.

  She just knows my voice. If she saw the rest of me, she would be sorry she ever came here in the first place.

  “You can’t call the police,” she whispers. All of that bravado from earlier is gone.

  She’s now seeing the situation for what it is.

  Her father was found in my property with my most valuable possession in his satchel.

  But none of that matters.

  Nothing matters anymore.

  Because the dark-haired angel has tears welling up in her eyes.

  I can’t stand it.

  I would sign away all of my fortune just to make it stop. And to think that I’m the cause of her being upset, it kills me.

  A foreign feeling spreads right underneath my skin.

  Shame. I am ashamed of myself.

  She blinks, and takes a deep breath. “You can’t call the police. We’ve already gotten into trouble before. They won’t ask any questions. They’ll just assume that my father is a thief.”

  But he is a thief.

  The girl clearly disagrees with me on that though. She refuses to believe that her father is capable of crime.

  “That’s how it works in this small town,” she says. “People have assumptions. They think what they want to think.”

  The words ring in my head.

  People think what they want to think. They believe what they want to believe.

  I can relate to that.

  Deeply.

  “Assumptions are dangerous,” I say slowly.

  “Yes,” she says, sucking in a breath. “Yes, they are. Which is exactly why you can’t call the police.”

  “I can’t just let him go,” I say.

  Because letting her father go would mean that I would never see her again.

  “Fair enough,” she says, taking deep breaths in to muster up that bravado from earlier. I can tell she’s nervous, but she’s brave at the same time. “I’ll make a deal with you.”

  She pauses, waiting for me to answer.

  “Go on,” I say.

  “Let my father go. I’ll take his place.”

  “Belle,” protests her father, struggling as he stands up beside her.

  He’s shorter than she is, coming up to her chin. The look on his face says that he won’t ever allow it.

  Her eyes remain locked on me. “I’ll take his place. I’ll stay for a few weeks, and…look after this house. I’ll be your housekeeper.”

  A housekeeper?

  I see the house through fresh eyes.

  Through her eyes.

  Cobwebs cling to every corner. The windows haven’t been wiped in days. There are stains on the carpet, and dust covers every piece of furniture.

  It’s in pretty bad shape.

  That might be partially my fault. As a general rule, I don’t hire daily housekeepers.

  The risk involved is too great.

  Every time someone accidentally catches a glimpse of my face, they shrink away in fear. The strangers I hire to clean my house won’t be any different.

  This is the very reason why I run a virtual company, interacting with my employees only through email and phone calls.

  Over the years, I’ve learned to keep myself hidden.

  It’s not ideal, but it works.

  And now I’m thinking, what if she’s just like everybody else?

  What if she sees my flawed face and decides that that’s all there is to me?

  I get defensive. “And why would I hire you to clean my house in exchange for letting your father go?”

  “Because,” she says as an answer, her voice wavering.

  It’s an instinct to go to her. To fall at her feet, and to comfort her in any way I can.

  I’m damned if I do, damned if I don’t.

  It would kill me if she turned out to be like the rest of them.

  And the thought of her walking out of my life, never to be seen again is a punch to the gut too.

  Having her is a problem, and so is not having her.

  Belle takes a deep breath. “Because you won’t believe me if I attested to my father’s character. Having the police involved isn’t an option for us. And so the only other solution is to offer my services to you in exchange for Papa’s freedom.”

  “You’ll be paid,” I say automatically.

  If she wants to work for me, she’ll be paid for it.

  “So you’ll allow it?” Hope glitters in her brown eyes.

  “I won’t,” says her father.

  Both of us promptly ignore him.

  “Yes,” I say. “For how long are you willing to work here?”

  “Until Christmas,” she says. “I’d like to go home for the holidays.”

  That would be a little over three months. It doesn’t feel like enough, but it will do for now.

  I’m having a hard time understanding why she fills me up with this desperation.

  I’ve never yearned for anybody the way I yearn for her. There’s the sexual curiosity I have for her, but there’s also more.

  I want to talk to her.

  I want to explore why I’m so damn attracted to everything she embodies. Innocence, curiosity, bravery.

  Amid her father’s protests, we discuss her living arrangements and work schedule.

  We agree that she’ll be living inside the estate and have her weekends to herself.

  I don’t tell her that I would be happy to keep her here even if she wanted to work two days a week instead of five.

  I might have also omitted another big piece of information: I already have the house cleaned once every month.

  Since it’s so big, it gets dirty within two days of cleaning.

  Right now, it’s at its worst. But that’s only because the cleaning crew is scheduled to arrive early tomorrow morning.

  But she doe
sn’t need to know that.

  “Belle, are you sure you want to do this?” aks the thief.

  “Yes, Papa,” she says to her father, with the patience of a saint. “Julie can cover for me at the restaurant. And it’s not like I’m being kept captive here. I want to do this.”

  Her father doesn’t look so sure, but she manages to convince him that everything will be alright.

  “It’s all my fault that you’re in this position,” he says, holding his forehead as he shakes his head.

  Damn right it is, I think.

  But Belle won’t hear of it. “Look around you, Papa. I’ll be living in a real-life palace for the next three months. Imagine how shiny and perfect everything’s going to look when it’s cleaned and dusted. I’ll admit that the circumstances that brought me here are less than ideal, but this place is like something out of a dream.”

  “But Belle, you don’t know-“

  I know what he’s trying to say. She doesn’t know how hideous I look.

  And honestly?

  I don’t blame him.

  This is the part where it all ends.

  She’s going to ask to see my face, and the embers of hope in my heart are going to turn into ash.

  She’s going to be disgusted. She’s going to scream and run away.

  And there won’t be anything I can do to stop her.

  “Ask him to show himself, Belle,” says the thief in a grave voice.

  6

  Belle

  “Step into the light, please,” I ask.

  No response.

  I have a new job, but I don’t know what my employer even looks like.

  That’s odd, right?

  He’s been speaking from the shadows this entire time, and I just accepted that. It’s his house after all. If he doesn’t want to show his face, he doesn’t have to.

  But I’m going to be living with this man for the next few months.

  Shouldn’t we be talking face to face?

  All I know is his voice and a general sense of where he’s located. Which is another thing that’s odd.

  I can’t see the man, but I feel like I can point to where he’s standing. I’m the compass, and he’s my north.

  That’s how it feels like, at least.

  “I would like to see who I’m talking to,” I add.