Charming Killer: A Dark Mafia Romance

“It’ll have to be.”

“I thought husbands and wives didn’t keep secrets.” Her smile was cutting and vicious.

I leaned closer. “If that’s the case, why did you sneak out last night?”

Her mouth fell open. It was a stupid, cheap win, and I shouldn’t have played that card. It would’ve been smarter to let her think she could come and go as she pleased and follow her whenever she snuck out. I would’ve learned so much more that way.

Instead, I got some worthless victory in the back seat of a Rover.

She recovered quickly, I had to hand it to her.

“You want to keep me from meeting with my people. I never agreed to that.”

I laughed. “I guess I wasn’t being subtle.”

“Not in the slightest.”

“I suppose you won’t tell me what you were discussing with your associates?”

She tilted her head and shifted closer. “I was talking about you. Specifically, about what’s driving you.” Her body was warm and supple so near to mine and I felt my heart beginning to quicken. Her lips parted as she looked up at me, inching nearer, drawing my eyes to the hint of her cleavage. “What do you want, Redmond?”

She knew what she was doing, and it was working.

“I want you.” I reached out and touched her face. Before she could pull back, I grasped her hair, unbuckled her seatbelt, and pulled her into my lap.

She sucked in a shocked breath. I caught the driver’s eye in the mirror—if he stopped or tried to interrupt, I’d cut out his fucking heart.

He understood. The Rover kept going.

Erin struggled against my grip. My cock was hard with her ass writhing along my length. She was so damn sensual, even when she wanted to slice open my throat and bleed me like a pig.

“Let go of me.”

I released her hair, but my hands fell to her hips. I kept her in place, my grip like iron.

She might’ve been smarter—but I was stronger.

“I’m not lying.” I leaned in, lips near her throat. “You think I’m in this for the wealth, but I couldn’t care less about any of that. I’m here for you.”

“Let. Go. Of. Me.” Her lips curled back into a snarl.

I wanted her to hit me. She could work out her frustration all she wanted, but she had to understand—

She was the most important thing.

I’d give her Maeve’s empire. I’d let her have everything she desired, so long as I was given the one thing I needed.

I released her hips. She shoved off my chest and scurried back into her seat, glaring death at me. I smiled at her casually and straightened my clothes.

“Understand something,” she said with real venom on her tongue. “I’m not your toy. I’m not your plaything. I’m not some object you get to drag around for your enjoyment. Do you understand?”

“I think I do. But have you ever been a man’s obsession before? You might find that you like it.”

Her eyes widened a fraction and red filled her cheeks. “That’s enough. I asked you why you’re doing all this, and don’t give me some bullshit about wanting me.”

“Then I don’t know what to tell you.”

Her jaw worked, but she finally turned back to the window. I smiled at the curve of her neck and the way her skin glowed a slight pink.

I was willing to bet she’d never had a man touch her like that before in her life. The way she reacted to my fingers on her body sent an electric wave along my spine, and I wanted more, so much more—but I had to slow down.

I was getting too greedy.

The Rover pulled up to the curb. I got out followed by Erin. Three more Rovers parked, and more of my soldiers got out.

I stretched my legs and sighed. Erin crossed her arms over her chest, studiously ignoring my gaze.

“This is it?” she asked, skeptical.

“This is it,” I said and strode forward into the bowling alley.

My men followed on my heels. Erin was swept up and came along, even if she looked like she’d rather get back in the car. She couldn’t help but show up for this meeting, even if I’d pissed her off back there.

The alley was dingy and dark. The overall aesthetic was 1970’s shag carpet. Everything looked sticky, worn, and ready to fall apart. The lanes seemed in decent enough shape, though there was nobody bowling, and only a bored teenager stood behind the register reading his phone.

He looked up as I approached, glanced over my shoulder at the several large, muscular, clearly armed men that shadowed me, and turned pale.

“Uh,” he said.

“I’m looking for your boss.”

He took one step back, blinked rapidly, ran a hand through his curly hair, then bolted. I watched him go before gesturing for my men to follow.

We set up in the middle lane. My men spread out, guarding the area, hands on their weapons.