Reign of a Billionaire : A Dark Mafia Enemies-to-Lovers Romance

Chapter 19Liana

The Ghost.

Kingston Ashford was the man my mother and Perez were afraid of, one of the most lethal men in the underworld. And he aimed his attention on me. This definitely earned him some points in my book. Although, I didn’t think I’d earned any in his.

I couldn’t quite decide whether this man was watching me with disdain or admiration.

The drive to his apartment had been short. I couldn’t go back to the hotel with splashes of blood all over me, and my accomplice in eliminating Tijuana’s guards insisted I get cleaned up.

I pulled out my phone and checked in with my contact. At least one thing went well today. Nico Morrelli had all the women safely in the shelters.

Another shipment intercepted, I thought proudly.

Kingston’s car came to a stop, and I didn’t bother waiting for him to open the door. I reached for the handle, pushing it down, when a forceful impact had me falling back on my ass.

My eyes flared, fury bolting through me when dark eyes locked with mine.

“A gentleman opens the door,” he remarked, challenging me to disagree.

I remained rooted to my seat, stunned. I couldn’t remember the last time any man had tried to be a gentleman with me.

I let out an exaggerated sigh, although my insides roared with feminine appreciation for his manners.

“Then by all means,” I said, relaxing. “Lead the way.”

A heavy moment passed between us, my eyes finding his and drowning in his darkness. Why was there this familiarity to him that I couldn’t shake off?

Hesitantly, he extended his hand. I eyed it for two heartbeats before slowly sliding my fingers into his warm palm. My breath hitched at the contact and my pulse skittered like the wings of a hummingbird, my eyes glued to where our skin touched.

No disgust. No panic.

I climbed out of the car, and he slid off his suit jacket and handed it over to me.

When I shot him a dubious look, all he said was, “It’ll hide the blood.”

My mouth curved into a silent “O” with understanding. I wrapped his jacket around me, his musky vanilla scent instantly surrounding me and cocooning me into a warm and protective hold.

Taking a step away to carve some distance between us, we made our way inside the building, the doorman already at the ready. I nodded my thanks, then continued toward the elevator with sure steps, my mind on alert. Kingston Ashford moved with the grace of a panther and surveyed the area with the attention of a predator.

Once inside the lift, he reached out and pressed a code on the keypad. The elevator moved swiftly up, and in the next breath, it pinged, the steel door opening directly into the penthouse.

Kingston motioned for me to go first and, taking a deep breath, I stepped into the spacious area overlooking the city skyline. The interior was large and bare, not a single item screaming home. It held an industrial feel, with the walls finished in various shades of gray.

He followed right behind me and the elevator doors slid closed, leaving us alone in this mysterious man’s space.

My gaze flicked over my shoulder, intent on marking any obvious danger before continuing.

I caught the reflection of the two of us in the mirror and my breath was cut short. Splatters of blood stained my face and arms even though my dress appeared intact. More likely, the black hid it all.

My cheek was bruised and my lip was swollen. In short, I was a mess. Meanwhile, he looked like he’d just come from a black-tie event—which, I reasoned, was exactly right.

“Show me where I can get cleaned up, and I’ll be out of your hair in no time,” I declared, pushing my shoulders back and looking away from our reflections.

He tilted his head, indicating a door at the far end of the hallway. “That’s a guest room. There are some spare clothes.” I wrinkled my nose at the thought of wearing someone’s sloppy seconds. “They’re new.”

He didn’t wait for my reply. Instead, he turned on his heel and disappeared behind another door. His bedroom, I presumed. So many strange emotions warred inside me at the thought of what that room might look like, smell like.

I sighed, and with one last glance at the darkening skyline over the city, I made my way to the guest bedroom.

Once inside, I looked around. Simple. Just the barest of furnishings—four-poster bed, nightstand, dresser. Closing the door behind me, I rummaged through the drawers. They were empty, aside from some clothes that still had tags on them.

I walked to the bathroom, closed the door, and locked it behind me. The man might be helping me today, but tomorrow I knew he wouldn’t hesitate to kill me. When I try to kill you, I’ll succeed. His words rang in the back of my mind, promises of what I could expect from him loud and clear.

I leaned back against the door and closed my eyes. Kingston was underestimating me, and when he finally did try to kill me, I’d beat him to the punch.

I turned on the shower and waited for the water to warm up as I stripped my bloodied dress off. I threw a glance at the mirror, staring at my reflection.

I was covered in blood and looked… broken. Just like him. I reared back. I had no clue where the thought came from, but it was there. I was as sure about it as I was about my own brokenness. I wasn’t a naive girl with hopes and dreams anymore. I had been born into this world of crime; I’d likely die in it.

There was no way out.

I stepped under the spray of water, letting it wash away all my sins, sweat, and grime from the day. I watched red-tinted water rush down the drain along with another small, innocent part of me. Soon, there’d be nothing of the old me left.

The events of the day rolled through my mind, but it wasn’t the murders I’d committed that plagued it. It was him. Eyes ablaze, his control lethal and his strength unwavering as we tackled the enemy together.

And then there was this animalistic attraction to him. Something deep within me responded to the very essence of him. It was confusing me, throwing me off course.

A shiver ran down my spine even under the scalding hot spray.

I desperately tried to calm my erratic heart, but the longer I remained unmoving, the more unsteady my breathing became. My inhales and exhales were a fast, fractured rhythm. Then, in one jolt, a memory rushed to the forefront of my mind.

“Kiss me, sunshine.”

What was that? I’d never heard those words before. I fell forward, bracing myself against the white tile. I closed my eyes, but it wasn’t enough to lift the spell. More words came crashing in, fuzzy images warring behind my eyelids.

“Kiss me like there’s no tomorrow for us.”

The voice was a little rough. The touch on my skin was a lot gentle. Lips dragged across mine, then kissed me deeply, devouring me.

It was then that the scent registered—vanilla, musky, and clean.

Like him. Like Kingston Ashford.