Kiss Of Death: A Dark Mafia Romance

Epilogue

Nero

One month later

A plume of smoke rises as I extinguish my cigarette in the ash tray. I push up from my desk and turn off the lamp. I’ve been up late dealing with the fallout of Nicholai’s death, handling Cesare and the Russians. It seems they’re willing to call it quits if we let them trade their guns in our territory. Cesare agreed to it, so for now I have to go with it…at least while the old man still breathes.

I climb the stairs and check in on Dante the same way I always do on my way to bed. Tonight though, I find Una sitting in the armchair in the corner of the room, Dante cradled in her arms. Her dark clothing blends with the shadows as though she were born from them.

I didn’t even hear her come in. Her and Sasha went out for a job earlier, a ‘quick hit’ as she calls it. Once a killer, always a killer. They get paid well and it feeds her bloodthirsty nature. But fucking Sasha will not use the elevator because he says, and I quote: It’s an ambush waiting to happen. In a private elevator. He insists they use the stairs and has somehow bypassed my alarm. He and Una move like ghosts, so I never know when either of them is going to just pop up.

Una’s knuckles are split open. Blood splatters adorn her neck, streaking through her white-blonde ponytail. My bloodstained queen, cradling her innocent child. Dante’s cheek is pressed to her chest, lips parted as he breathes heavily. One step is all it takes to have a .40 Cal pointed at my head in the blink of an eye. Of course. Una’s palm covers the side of Dante’s face as though she would protect his ears from the gun shot.

“Are you ever going to stop pointing guns at me?”

She tilts her head to the side before tucking the gun beneath the cushions again. “Don’t creep up on me like that.”

“It’s not creeping.” I carefully take -more like pry - Dante from her. She lets him sleep on her every night, even though he sleeps just fine on his own. My guess is she’s making up for lost time. I lay him in his crib, and he doesn’t even stir. He sleeps like the dead, and I hope he always does. I hope he never has a care in the world. With Una for a mother, he’ll always be protected, sheltered from the dangers of this world.

“You can’t sleep in his room for the rest of his life, Morte.”

“Watch me.”

I laugh. “Come on.”

She gets up, glancing longingly at Dante before she finally follows me out of the nursery. She whistles for George and he trots up the stairs before curling up right in front of Dante’s crib. That damn dog is almost as attached to him as he is to Una. She insists he sleeps with Dante for protection. What the fuck that dog is going to protect him from, I don’t know.

As soon as our bedroom door closes, I pick Una up, pinning her against the wall. Her fingers thread through my hair, tugging hard as I kiss down the length of her neck, groaning as I inhale the scent of vanilla and gun oil mixed with the metallic twang of blood. It’s fucking hot. I still when I feel the cool kiss of steel at my neck and pull back, cocking a brow. A twisted smile plays over her lips. “Don’t do it,” I warn.

Those violet eyes flash, lust and violence roaring to the surface. Without breaking eye contact, she drags the blade along my collar bone. I hiss out a breath as she brings it to her lips and licks the blade.

“Oh, you just love to fucking push me.” I yank her away from the wall and throw her on the bed.

She smiles because she’s just as fucking depraved as I am. My perfect match, my other half, my vicious little butterfly. My broken, savage queen. There’s no one else who could possibly stand beside me but her.

“I love you,” she says, her eyes bright and cheeks flushed.

I press my forehead to hers. “I fucking love you, Morte.”

She may have started as a pawn in a game, but now, she is the crowned queen. She is that which I treasure most. She is my happiness. Even monsters can find a happily ever after.