Promised to the Killer: A Dark Mafia Romance

He stands and takes off his jacket. He folds it and lays it across the back of the couch. He unbuttons his cuffs and rolls the sleeves to his elbows. I watch in awe of his muscular forearms, cut like diamonds, and I suck in a sharp breath when I see the tattoo just above his hand.

A black lotus flower.

My heart skips a beat before resetting itself. His name, his demeanor, the ink on his knuckles. It all comes together in a sudden and overwhelming explosion in my brain and pure, raw fear rifles itself along my spine. I cover my sudden shock by bringing my drink to my lips. Maxim narrows his gaze at me, but finishes what he’s doing.

A black lotus flower.

I know what that tattoo means.

Everyone in my world knows it, especially in Dallas.

I think back to the name the woman used downstairs. I hadn’t put it together, even hearing the name out loud. I was much too nervous to realize she meant that Novalov family.

Tattoos. Blue eyes. Dangerous and outgoing.

Novalov.

This is Maxim Novalov. It has to be.

I know who this man is. And suddenly, I’m terrified.

“You seem shaken, princess.” He walks over.

I bite my tongue. I need to calm down. I can’t panic, not right now. So what if this is the heir to the most dangerous Russian bratva in all of Texas? So what if Maxim Novalov has a horrible, violent reputation? I’ve heard my papa mention him a dozen times, and never in a good way. These fucking Russians are psychopaths, especially that Maxim boy. Someone needs to leash that rabid dog. If my papa is afraid of him, that’s saying something.

But none of that matters. Maxim could be a serial killer with a hunger for human flesh and it wouldn’t change a thing.

I’m a dead girl already.

And he’s handsome. He’s so stupidly gorgeous. And we’re in his hotel room, all alone. I’m so close to getting what I want, and so what if it’s with this nightmare, this walking storm cloud? Nothing else matters.

I have to push it all away and focus.

But it’s difficult. Memories swirl. He doesn’t know me—my family isn’t important enough for that—but the stories about him are truly heinous. Trails of blood and tears. His family owns this city and more besides. They control vast territory from here to Fort Worth and all around the suburbs. Any drugs that come into this area move through his family’s hands, and they won that territory with the blood of their enemies.

And Maxim sits nearly at the top of their hierarchy. Which means he’s one of the deadliest men in an organization filled with killers.

This is bad. This is extremely bad.

Calm down. Deep breaths.

This would be bad. It would be extremely, mega-ultra-super horrible, but it’s not. None of this is relevant, because I won’t survive to see another sunset.

So it doesn’t matter who Maxim is or which family he’s from.

All that’s important is right here and right now. I snuck out for the third time in my life and risked everything for this moment, and I’m not going to throw it all away because I’m afraid.

I’ve lived my whole life being afraid. I don’t need to live in fear anymore. It’s all coming to an end, and tonight I can have a little courage. I made my decision, and my choices are directly leading to the end of my life. The least I can do is die on my feet with a modicum of dignity still intact.

This man, his terrifying tattoos, his full lips, pale eyes, and toned body, can give me the experience I desperately crave.

All I have to do is keep moving forward.

He stoops over me, his hands on the armrests of my chair. His lips move close to mine and I stare into his eyes. He’s the sort of man that’s used to getting what he wants, like the world is always waiting and eager to bend to his will and his wants. He’s a shark drifting in the lazy black ocean feasting on the flesh of any stupid fish that ventures too close. I’m that fish, and he looks starving.

“Regretting your choice, princess?” he whispers. “It’s much too late for that now.”

“I don’t regret anything. So long as when this is over, you give me what I want. We’ll escape somewhere beautiful and build that castle.”

“I’ll build it for you, Siena. I’ll kill for you, too.”

“I believe you will.”

His lips brush against mine. Gentle at first. Teasing and soft. A riot of tingles runs down my spine and I fight to keep a whimper from my lips.

Then he kisses me deep and I suck in a gasping breath as I tumble into him.

I’ve never experienced anything like this before. The raw, pulsing desire. The intense need that rolls down my spine. He’s a monster and a killer but all I can think about are his lips and his tongue pressing into my mouth and the taste that overwhelms my mind. His hands have ended lives, and his mouth has given orders that brought pain and suffering on countless people, and yet he’s so tender and passionate and gorgeous, and I don’t know what to do.