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

Chapter 42Liana

Something smelled delicious, like warm spiced vanilla. I wanted to nuzzle into it and never wake up.

I opened my eyes and yawned when my gaze landed on the body next to me. I looked up, up, up and straight into a pair of dark eyes. I scrambled back from him, my heart racing in my chest, and fell right off the bed and onto my ass.

“You alright?”

“Why are you here?”

“You asked me to stay.” He sounded offended, although I couldn’t fathom why. He was in my bed.

“Why would I ask you to stay?” He shrugged. “We didn’t—” I gestured frantically between us, sick with the thought that I might have had sex with him and not remember it. “Oh my God, please tell me we⁠—”

I pushed my hands into my hair, nails scratching at my scalp. A set of bare feet appeared in front of me as Kingston slid out of bed and joined me on the hardwood. He took my chin between his slim fingers.

“You had a bad dream and asked me to stay,” he repeated. “Nothing more; nothing less.”

Finding the truth in his eyes, I let out a relieved breath, then shifted to stand. I got to my knees and froze, eye level with his crotch area, where an obvious tent had sprung in his sweatpants. The images of us fooling around in his penthouse danced through my memory—his spiced-vanilla scent, his hard and uneven breathing, his mouth on my pussy.

A shuddering breath left me and goosebumps broke over my skin.

My pulse throbbed between my legs, aching to feel a human touch shaking me to my core. This man was the only one I wanted to touch me, and now, I craved to feel his hands and lips on my skin.

“Eyes up here. And get up off your knees.” I startled at the sound of his voice, jumping to attention like an Olympic gymnast. “Whoa there, easy,” he rushed to say as I almost lost my balance, his eyes coasting over my legs and hips like he was thinking of ways to steady me. “I’ve never seen you move that fast outside of killing men.”

Turmoil restarted in my chest. He knew me, but I didn’t know him. And if everything he’d told me so far was true—which I suspected it was—then I should.

It was really too early for all this. “Don’t give me any ideas.”

Maybe he’s scared of me, I thought proudly, then released an exasperated breath at the notion, mentally berating myself. Kingston—the Ghost—was one of the most lethal trackers and killers in the underworld.

He let out a derisive snort. “Touché.”

Our eyes locked, and the roaring in my ears intensified. In his dark depths, I glimpsed a spark of something that sent heat curling through me. My nipples hardened and my skin flushed with arousal.

“Thank you,” I murmured, the words leaving my lips without my permission. He stared at me but didn’t move, and I shifted my weight from foot to foot, restless in the silence. It was a novelty to have someone not take advantage of me when vulnerable, especially after the weeks I’d spent waiting for the auction and Cortez. “Thanks for staying with me through my nightmare.”

Dammit, I sounded vulnerable, but also husky and breathless. He felt like a physical force drawing me in, and the sensation had me taking a half step back on wobbly legs. His jaw flexed as he watched me retreat.

“How about some breakfast?” he offered, his voice soft despite something dark and savage lurking underneath his stony front.

“That’d be great, thank you.”

He nodded. “Meet me on the terrace, ice princess.”

My shoulders slumped, and I felt all the energy that had just been coursing through me trickle out. I was exhausted. He exhausted me. “Stop calling me that,” I muttered as I turned away, not sure why that nickname bothered me.

I felt him hover by the door, his gaze hot on my back, before he walked out without another word.

Twenty minutes later, I appeared on the terrace, feeling fresh after my shower and wearing a thin-strapped dress—pink, again—with a white cardigan draped over my shoulders. Kingston already had breakfast cooked and the table set. He pulled out a chair for me, and I couldn’t help but feel like a girl on a date. Not that I’d ever been on one.

“Do you always cook?” I asked curiously as he removed the dome-shaped cover from my plate.

He stood over me, waiting for me to take a seat, his crisp black shirt molding to his toned body. All he had to do now was flex those ink-stained biceps and I’d be a goner.

“I do.”

The birds chirped, the sound of the waves in the distance soothed, and the breeze calmed as he sat opposite of me. The man had to be the epitome of efficiency because he managed to shower, change, and cook all while I was getting ready.

“Do you enjoy it?” I was impressed my voice was even, hiding this attraction I felt toward him. I blamed it on that fucking scent of his. Vanilla and spice.

“I do.”

“Why?” Supposedly I’d known this man for at least a decade, yet I knew absolutely nothing about him. Maybe he could help me fill these gaps in my memory—without realizing it, of course.

He shrugged. “I like food.”

“So do I,” I remarked. “You don’t see me slaving over the stove.”

He snickered. “You’re too busy killing.”

“And you’re not? You’re a killer for the Omertà and you fucking collect the teeth of your victims.”

He froze, looking like a mannequin for a moment, before he resumed eating. Instant regret slammed into me. This man might look like a monster straight from my nightmares, but he wasn’t. Deep in my heart, I knew that. Considering his indoctrination by my mother and Ivan at such a young age, I was surprised he wasn’t more insane.

“I’m sorry,” I apologized. “That was uncalled for.”

It didn’t matter who he turned out to be or how many he killed. He was just trying to survive, just like anyone forced to endure the underworld.

He lifted his head, his eyes roving over my face before dropping to my lips. There was a look in his expression that told me he still silently suffered.

I picked up my fork and started eating. Scrambled eggs, almond croissant, blueberry pancake drenched in syrup. No bacon in sight.

We ate in silence for a while until he spoke. “Apology accepted.” My shoulders slumped with relief. His gaze flicked up, heavy and emotionless. Yet a storm brewed underneath his darkness, changing the temperature in my heart from cold to hot. Talk about extremes with this man. “On one condition.”

I scoffed. “This should be good.”

His eyes coasted down my body, leaving a trail of ice and fire in their wake. I shifted in my chair, suddenly self-conscious. I hated these newfound feelings of insecurity. That wasn’t who I was.

Impatience stared back at me. “Take it or leave it.”

Unable to resist my curiosity, I said, “What’s the condition?”

“You answer some questions,” he drawled.

My eyes narrowed. “Fine, but I reserve the right not to answer.”

“Fine.”

“And I can ask you questions too,” I amended quickly.

“Fine, but I reserve the right not to answer.” He threw my own words back at me with indignation. “Although, I wonder what you’ll possibly think to ask since you don’t even remember me.”

You and me both, buddy, I thought with a huff.

“Okay, now’s your turn to wow me.” I smirked. “Ask your question.”

He let out a sardonic breath. “You’re asking for trouble, aren’t you?” I shrugged my shoulders and rolled my eyes before he continued. “Why didn’t your mother save you when you were taken in D.C.?”

“Maybe she thinks I’m dead,” I countered. I didn’t think I was going to like this game.

“You were mentioned on the dark web. There’s no chance she would have missed it. Perez has had an eye on you for a long time.”

Somehow it didn’t surprise me, but it still sent a pang through my heart. Not that I wanted to go back to that crazy bitch. It was more about the fact that I’d never experienced motherly affection.

“Then I must no longer be of use to her,” I said, glad that my voice didn’t portray my inner turmoil. I’d known for a long time my mother wasn’t a good person, but she was still my mother. Even that was barely enough to try to forget the years of torture and dangerous living conditions. She only defended me when it suited her needs, and that was impossible to ignore now. “My turn.”

I pondered how to phrase my question without having to bring up the horrors that haunted him.

“Why did… How did you end up with Ivan and…” My mother, I thought but couldn’t utter the word.

“My father fucked him over on a deal, and Ivan decided to go after my sister. He got me instead.”

He sounded detached, yet the meaning of his words ghosted a shiver down my spine. Just like me, he was a pawn in his parent’s fuckup.

I swallowed a lump in my throat. “I’m sorry.”

“How long have you been working for your mother?” He didn’t want apologies. He wanted answers.

I thought back to when she first started pulling me into her business, training me in her signature ruthless way. I couldn’t put a finger on exactly when it was, especially not with how unreliable my memory was. An ache resounded between my brows as I tried to remember, but with each probe into my memory bank, the pain intensified.

“A few years,” I finally answered.

Maybe he saw the struggle painted on my face or maybe he was just impatient, but he let my non-answer slide. “Ask your question now.”

“What’s the deal with the teeth?”

His expression remained unmoved. “It’s so I can keep track of the people I kill. Whenever I look at them, I’m reminded that my soul can’t be saved.”

I reared back in my chair, shocked at how easily the words rolled off his tongue. He genuinely believed he was tainted, undeserving of all the good in the world.

“Your soul doesn’t need saving, Kingston. You were a child.” My voice was barely a whisper as it hit the air and met his darkness. “Whatever we’ve done in this world, we did it to survive. It’s them”—all the ruthless and cruel ublyudoks in the underworld—“who are beyond saving. Including my mother.”

He let out a sardonic breath. “When did your outlook on life become so upbeat and positive?”

I shrugged. “I need something to keep me going.” To get to those who’d held the faith of my sister in their hands, I didn’t say. “Your turn,” I said before I could veer too far toward the rabbit hole.

“What do you want with Perez?”

There it was. “I’m not answering that one.”

“You realize he’ll kill you,” he pointed out, as though the risk wasn’t the most obvious thing in the world.

“Not if I kill him first.”

He ran his hand across his jaw, pulling my gaze to his mouth. “I believe you mean that too.”

I lifted my gaze to his. “I do.”

“You won’t be able to kill him on your own.”

“I’ve done a lot of things on my own,” I declared proudly. “I only have myself to depend on.”

He ran his tongue across his teeth, deep in thought. “For a very long time, I believed so too. But I’m slowly learning I can let some people in. You will too.”

Frustration rose in me. Or maybe it was jealousy? It was hard to decipher. I’d never been very good at regulating my emotions. All I knew was that I used to have my sister, and now I had nobody. Mother kept me too close to her to allow me the chance to grow close to anyone. Each time I did, we were ripped away. Giovanni was the exception, but still, I couldn’t believe in it with the same conviction as Kingston. It seemed too good to be true.

“I’ll take your word for it.” Fuck, was it my turn or his to ask questions? This man rattled me down to my core, and it was starting to affect my ability to stay vigilant. Fuck it—I was just going to throw it out there. “When will you let me go?”

The silence was deafening as he stared and stared and stared at me.

“When your mother’s dead and no longer poses a threat to you.”

My mouth parted, his jet-black expression leaving no room for discussion. My stomach dropped like lead. I didn’t want to imagine exactly how long he thought that would be.

“What if she finds us first?” I asked. I hoped she wouldn’t. I had no doubt that Kingston was capable of defending himself, but if she brought her goons with her, it’d be hard for the two of us to fight them all, especially Drago. Now that I was free of her, I didn’t want to go back to her poisonous bubble.

“She won’t.”

“You seem overly confident.”

I opened my mouth to say something else, but he beat me to it. “What’s your favorite ice cream flavor?”

I froze as the darkness morphed into a mirrored nightmare haunting my every dream. Flashbacks of my mother’s torture shot through me as fear crept into the corners of my mind. Her questions—much like this one—sent terror into the marrow of my bones. These were trick questions, they had to be, and pain always followed because I never answered them right.

My fingers curled into fists. It was like his words had tipped my world upside down, and I had no idea why. Would there ever come a day when I’d be free of these mood swings? “I like them all.”

His brow rose. “That’s not an answer.”

“It’s my final one.” I glared at him.

He leaned back into his seat. “You have a favorite flavor,” he deadpanned. “But for an unknown reason, you refuse to say it.”

I scoffed with a bravado. “And how would you know that?”

“Your eyes.”

“What about my eyes?” I snapped.

“They’re the windows to your soul.” My heartbeat tripped over itself. Where had I heard that before? “They tell me when you’re lying, when you’re sad or scared, when you’re excited.”

My cheeks heated, and I inhaled slowly.

“It’s my turn,” I rasped, my words tumbling from my mouth on a tremor, eager to move the topic away from myself.

“Then ask, ice princess.”

I gritted my teeth at the nickname. Answers first. Kill him later.

“What was the deal with you and Louisa?”

“I won’t be answering that.”

Frustration chafed beneath my skin, but it wasn’t as if I could call him out on it when I just did the same.

“Where were you when my sister was taken?” I asked, my voice cracking.

His cool gaze slid to my neck, probably squeezing invisible hands around it.

“I was right there, dying alongside Louisa.” He shot to his feet abruptly, causing me to flinch. “Where in the fuck were you? We talked about leaving for ten fucking years. Where were you, Liana?”

Then he turned around and left me staring after him. It had become a pattern—one of us was always leaving.