Kiss Of Death: A Dark Mafia Romance

Una

I jolt awake and take a moment to realize where I am. Neros’ bed. Sleeping next to him almost seemed like a dream to me. The first whispers of morning light trickle through the darkness, painting the room in tones of gray. I glance over at Nero, his dark lashes casting shadows over his cheekbones. His face is something I thought I had committed to memory, and five months isn’t that long, but I had started to forget just how beautiful he is. A stray lock of dark hair falls over his forehead and it makes him look a little unruly.

The slightest noise comes from somewhere in the house and I turn away from Nero, silently climbing out of bed and leaving the room. I go to the nursery and open the door, walking over to Dante. He’s wide awake, his stumpy little legs thrashing around as he stares up at me with eyes the exact same shade as my own. His head is covered in a downy layer of dark hair that’s sticking up in every direction. Smiling, I lean down and scoop him up, bringing his tiny body against mine. It’s as though every frayed nerve, every broken facet of me all comes together, healing under his innocent touch. He makes me feel whole. He gives me purpose. I kiss his soft hair, inhaling the scent of him, a smell that is unlike anything else in this world.

We go downstairs and I hold him while I make coffee. George lingers around my feet, wagging his tail excitedly. I open the fridge and stare at bottles of formula. There’s some kind of machine sitting on the kitchen side, but I have no idea what to do with it. A wave of sadness hits me because I’ve missed all this. I don’t even know how to care for him. Dante makes this noise and then he’s crying, well, more like wailing.

“Shh, stop. It’s okay.” I’m frantically glancing around for something that might make him stop when Nero appears in the doorway, his thick arms folded over his bare chest and a small smirk on his lips.

“He’s a grouchy fuck in the mornings.”

I hold Dante out to him, and he takes him from me. I smile at the two of them with matching bed hair. Nero and I are naturally drawn to each other’s blood thirsty nature, but he’s never been sexier than he is holding that baby.

“What does he want?” I ask.

“He wants what all guys want, to eat and take a shit.”

I wrinkle my nose. “Gross.”

“Or in his case, he shit his pants and now he’s not happy about it. Isn’t that right, dude?” Nero lifts Dante, shaking his head at Dante’s little, scrunched up, squalling face. “Be back in a second. Can you put a bottle in the machine for a few minutes?” He disappears and I’m left staring at the contraption, feeling completely useless.

A little while later and Nero comes back, handing me Dante again. I take him and Nero smiles down at him before he goes to that stupid machine, putting the bottle in it. I move closer, taking note of how it works. His lips pull up in a wry smile. “Guns are much easier.”

He reaches for me, gripping my hips and pulling me between his legs. My muscles bunch and tighten reflexively, but it’s nothing compared to my usual reaction to being touched. He strokes my hair back off my face and I tentatively scratch my nails over the stubble of his jaw. His lips brush the inside of my wrist and my skin tingles in response. The small but intimate contact feels like a fire after I’ve been living in the freezing cold. He steps closer to me, pressing Dante between our bodies.

“I missed you, Morte.”

I missed him as well. More than I can say. I tilt my chin up, brushing my lips over his. He kisses me, trailing his fingers to the back of my neck and pulling me close. This feels right and strong. It feels like everything I’m fighting for. Dante starts to fidget, letting out a high-pitched squeal. I pull away from Nero and glance down at the tiny person.

“Way to cock block me kid.” Nero turns around and removes the bottle from the machine. He splashes a bit of milk on his wrist and then hands it to me. “All yours.”

I take a seat at the breakfast bar and cradle Dante in one arm, holding the bottle in front of him. He sucks loudly and I can’t help but smile as I watch him.

“This is the way it should have been,” Nero says quietly. I look up at him. He has his elbows braced on the breakfast bar, clasping a cup of coffee as he watches us.

“How did you do this? Where did you learn how to take care of a baby?”

“Tommy’s mom has been helping.” He shrugs. “And the rest, you kind of learn as you go.” To think there was a time when I thought he wouldn’t want a baby, when I was going to deprive him of being a father. In the tiny glimpse I’ve had of them together, I can see that Nero is an amazing father. It brings me more relief than I can say. If I fail to kill Nicholai, if I die, Dante will have everything he needs in Nero.

“I don’t want to leave him.”

“Then don’t.” Something dark and volatile crosses Nero’s eyes. “Stay here. Turn your back on this idea."

“Nero, it’s been five months. I gave up the first four months of Dante’s life so that I could keep him safe and remove Nicholai. I’m so close.”

He puts his coffee down and places his palms flat on the breakfast bar. The muscles of his torso flex and roll as he shifts, the ink on his arms seeming to dance over his skin with every move. “We are stronger together. Look at what he’s done to you!”

“I just need more time.”

“Do you know what it’s like? Not knowing what he’s doing to you? Not knowing whether you’ll come back alive?”

“You forget who I am.” I say the words, but the assured arrogance I once spoke them with is gone. Any pride I once harbored in who I was is long gone.

“No! I do not fucking forget. But by the time he’s done with you, will I know who you are? Will you?”

“Yes,” I respond. Nero and I, we are unbreakable. The things Nicholai has done to me…Nero should be nothing more than a distant memory. Dante, more like a dream. I should have been able to kill Nero and instead, he brings me back, he grounds me the same way he always has.

"You are his prize toy, and if he thinks he can’t have you, no one will.”

I put the nearly empty bottle down on the counter. Standing up, I round the bar and hand Nero Dante. He takes him, throwing a dish cloth over his shoulder before pressing his palm to Dante’s back and hugging him close. Never did a man look so out of place and yet completely at home with something so fragile in his arms. My son in the arms of my monster. There’s nowhere else I’d rather him be. “Please trust me, Nero.” I push up on tiptoes, kissing him quickly and then the back of Dante’s head. “I am his weakness. I blind him.”

“If anything happens to you, I will slaughter the bratva piece by piece until there is nothing left.” That violence I love so much swirls in his eyes, threatening to spill over.

“I have a plan. I need your help.”

“Ah, Morte, tell me what you need and it will be done." Of course it will, because he’s Nero Verdi. Nicholai thinks himself invincible because no one can stand against him, but I haven’t unveiled my secret weapon yet. I haven’t unleashed my monster. Nicholai has no idea what we are capable of.

The entire drive from the airport to base, I think through the plan in my head. This will work. This has to work. Part of me wants to turn around and go back to Nero, to let him face this fight with me, but I can’t. I have risked everything to take Nicholai down, and I will succeed, or die trying. This will be the legacy that I leave my son.

They allow me straight through the compound gates and when I pull into the vehicle bay, Nicholai is there, waiting. His hands are clasped behind his back, his suit as immaculate as ever.

“Little dove. I see you are disappointingly empty handed,” he says as I approach.

I force myself back into that cold unfeeling place as far away from Nero and Dante as possible. “The child was not there.”

“Oh? And is Nero Verdi dead?” Those ice-cold eyes fix with mine, looking for any minute trace of deception.

“Verdi has sent the child away for protection.” The lie slips easily from my lips as I stare unblinkingly at him. “I gained his trust to ascertain information. He is not dead. I may yet have use of him.”

He tilts his head, and it reminds me of a predator assessing prey. “He is in love with you.”

“Yes.”

“And he believes you in love with him?”

“Yes.”

“And where is the child?”

“With Rafael D’Cruze.”

“He sent the child to your sister.” He laughs, clapping his hands together. “And what did you tell him, little dove?”

“I told him that he needs to forget me. I said I would ensure the child’s safety but that this is my place.” Have I always sounded so robotic and cold?

“Good. This is good.” There’s an edge to his voice, and I know he doesn’t trust me. If I were any other soldier he would have put a bullet in my head the second I came back. Nicholai would have written anyone else off as defective. I’m only standing here because of his favor.

“Do you know the exact location of the child?”

“Yes. He is being kept in Rafael’s compound near the border,” I relay the location Nero and I picked. “But we must move quickly. I do not think he trusts me.”

“You and Sasha will assemble a team. You will go to Mexico and retrieve the child. Kill Rafael D’Cruze. And kill your sister.” He lifts a brow to drive the point home.

On a nod, I start to turn away.

“And little dove?” I pause. “I will come with you to Mexico. I do not trust you to do what must be done.” If he weren’t so blinded by his obsession with me, he wouldn’t trust me at all. Perhaps in his own twisted way he loves me. After all, they say love is blind. He wants so badly to believe that I am once again his loyal, favored daughter, that he ignores what is right in front of him. How could my loyalty possibly be to him when my child is out there? If he had children, if he knew what that love feels like, Nicholai would not trust me. But his obsessive, sick version of love leads him to his own destruction. It will be me, his precious daughter who rips out his heart.

I’m so close I can almost smell his blood tinging the air. The game is so nearly over.