Charming Killer: A Dark Mafia Romance

“He’s crazy.”

I let out a sharp laugh and looked back, but she was serious. “Because he killed your father?”

“Sure, that, and other stuff. Everyone thinks Redmond’s something he’s not.”

“Which is what?”

“Weak.” She got to her feet and leaned against one of the bedposts. “That’s why he took over the family. Everyone assumed he wouldn’t be able to hold onto power up until the moment he killed them all.”

I felt my stomach twist and looked away. She was too young for this. “How do you feel about him?”

“Redmond’s the only person that’s ever been nice to me.”

“What about the staff?”

“They don’t count. They’re paid to be nice.”

I laughed and leaned against the windowsill. “I know what you mean. It’s not easy to grow up in a place like this.”

“You’d know, wouldn’t you?” She pushed off the bed and walked to the door. Before she left, she looked back, face hard. “But don’t mistake that for knowing a damn thing about me.”

I opened my mouth to speak—but closed it again.

She was right. I had a similar upbringing, but that didn’t mean I knew a damn thing about her life.

She left and I was alone. I turned to the fireplace and drifted closer. I ran my fingers down the mantel as my head began to spin again, trying to figure out what Redmond was thinking, leaving me alone with that girl.

I hadn’t learned anything new—only that they’d had a difficult upbringing, but I could’ve guessed that on my own. We all had a fucked-up childhood. It was part of being a member of an Oligarch family.

Though she didn’t seem to mind that her brother killed her father, and that was interesting. Worth remembering, at least.

A sound like a switchblade flicking from its body made me jolt upright.

A small white card flitted beneath the door and came to a stop a foot inside. I walked over and picked it up.

Dinner in two hours. Wearing something nice. - R

I frowned at the handwriting. It was neat and precise. I opened the door and looked around, but the hallway was empty.

Chapter 6

Redmond

Dinner was served in the main lavish dining room. We rarely got a chance to use it and I figured it was a good idea to try to impress my guests.

Chika sat at the far end next to Erin. My sister slouched, staring malevolently at her glass of water while the rest of us drank wine. I stood at the head of the table, frowning at the group while several members of the household staff hovered on the edges of the room waiting on the signal to begin serving.

I glared at Mel. “Where’s Mother?”

“How would I know? She doesn’t talk to me.”

“She doesn’t talk to anyone. Which is a problem.”

Erin leaned forward. “Familial troubles? Maybe we should—”

“Stay.” I glared at her. “She’ll be down momentarily.”

We’d already waited ten minutes and I was about to give up when the door pushed open and my mother strutted inside.

She was younger than my father by ten years. Her skin had the ageless look of a woman obsessed with keeping wrinkles under control. She had the time and the cash to burn to try and perfect herself, even if nobody ever saw the fruits of her worthless labors. She kept herself locked away in this place ever since I killed her husband, and I knew she was doing it as a sort of punishment.

Which suited me fine. I didn’t need her wandering around the Oligarch social circles embarrassing me.

Mother swayed. She wore a complicated dress and heels, as if she were going to a charity gala and not dinner in her own house. She frowned at Mel, frowned at me, then stared openly at Erin.

“This is the girl, eh?” Mom let out a snort. “I thought she’d be prettier.”

Anger flamed in my chest. Erin’s cheeks burned.

“Are you drunk already?”

Mom sat down, her back perfectly straight, and adjusted her hair. “Not yet.” She downed a glass of wine and gestured for a refill. “But getting there.” A staff member hurried to obey.

I sighed and sat. I gestured, and the meal began.

It was uncomfortable. Mel refused to make small talk, Mom spent the whole first course glaring at Erin and Chika, and I was too far away to effectively talk to my guests. I was left with awkward attempts at engaging the full group, which went nowhere, and did nobody any good.

Mother leaned back after her third glass of wine and openly stared at Erin. “Have I met you before?” she asked. Her words weren’t slurring yet, but they would soon. “I swear you’re familiar.”

“All of us ugly people must look the same to you.”

Mel laughed. I grinned. Mother scowled.

“I remember your father and your mother. She was a prissy bitch and he was a loud asshole. Liked to fuck around though. Everyone knew it.”