Promised to the Killer: A Dark Mafia Romance

“Does it involve pinning your hands above your head and—”

“Nope,” she says quickly, interrupting. “It involves you taking me to visit Mira and the girls back at The Velvet Rope.”

I raise my eyebrows. “How’s that supposed to make me feel good?”

“I have no clue!” She grins bigger and squeezes my fingers. “I just figured it might be a good time to ask.”

“Hit me while I’m weak. Very clever.”

“I can be devious that way.”

“All right, I’ll take you for a short visit. But we won’t stay long.”

“Deal.” She goes to release my hand, but I catch her wrist and hold it tight.

“And Siena? My adoption isn’t public knowledge. It’s not a secret, but we don’t talk about it, either.” I stare into her eyes. “Do you understand?”

“I understand.” She looks away. “I still think you shouldn’t be ashamed of who you are.”

I release her roughly and walk faster to the Kremlin. “And I think you should know your place.” I’m angry with myself for being short, but I can’t help it.

She hurries to keep pace. We head to my home and my family, the only family I’ve ever known, even if I’ll never be quite a part of them.

Chapter 14

Siena

It’s only been a few days since Maxim pulled me from that nightmare room, but The Velvet Rope looks like a completely different place.

Nothing’s actually changed. It’s still the same old vaguely fifties-style motel with the teal doors and the big glowing sign, but it looks smaller, grungier, somehow dirtier and foreign.

It’s not the motel that changed, but it’s me.

Maxim parks in the spot at the far end of the lot near the woods. It’s the same place he parked when he found me in the stairwell. The memory wakes a strange and excited feeling in my core and I squirm slightly trying to dispel the hot need that rises in my stomach. I run my fingers down the fine leather of the seat to try to distract myself from memories of his hands between my legs and his lips on mine.

“Remember what I said.” He kills the engine and turns to me. If he could read my mind right now, he’d lean across this car and rip my clothes to tatters. Instead, he only frowns slightly, his handsome lips pulled down. He’s wearing his usual suit—which fits him perfectly and makes him look like a Greek god— and a gun bulges in a holster at his side. I’m used to seeing men armed, but there’s something about it with him that makes the small hairs on my neck stand up. He’s so beautiful and so dangerous, and I’m not sure which aspect draws me more.

“In and out,” I said, nodding. “Short visit.”

“I don’t want to give your father or brothers time to show up. So say hello to the girls and leave. Meet back here in ten minutes. Understand?”

I nod once and he nods back. He goes to open the door but I reach out and stop him. It’s impulsive, but I stare into his eyes as he looks back at me.

“Thank you. You didn’t have to do this.”

He softens a touch. Maxim’s never soft—but every once in a while, he seems to melt around me. I don’t know why I have that power, but it’s intoxicating, seeing a man like him want to do right. He wants to make me happy, even if he’s doing it in his own way with the clothes and this visit. I know this is hard on him, and I wonder if I should make it any easier.

“I don’t want you to be miserable, Siena. I need you to follow my lead, but that doesn’t mean you can’t have the things you want.”

I squeeze his arm and nod. “I know. You’re doing your best.”

He lingers for a moment, but he pulls away first. I watch him go with a racing heart. He strides across the parking lot with a confidence I wish I could fake, much less feel. Once he’s in the office, I slip out and hurry across the lot, around the side of the building, and into the back door.

The sleeping room’s empty. My bunk is already filled with crap: clothes, straighteners, makeup. The girls are like vultures, and any spare space is immediately covered in their belongings. I smile to myself as I slip past the dividing cloth and through the next doorway, into the communal room.

Ora’s sitting in front of the TV. She looks exhausted like she worked all night but wasn’t able to get back to sleep. That’s not unusual. Sometimes the girls are straight up so tired and used up and wired on caffeine and pills that they sit around, smoke endless cigarettes, and stare at Mexican dramas for hours on end until it’s time to start all over. I think of them like zombies when they get into that zone, and all I could ever do was try to get them to go to sleep.