His Pretty Little Queen: A Dark Mafia, Age Gap Romance (Kids of The District Book 5)
His Pretty Little Queen: Chapter 17

‘DON’T MOVE, SWEET GIRL.’ Rough fingers slide along my forehead, my loose hair tickling my skin as they sweep it from my face. The smell of cologne and warm clean male flesh rolls over me. ‘You should sleep for a few more hours.’

I slowly bat my lashes, opening my eyes to the dim room, and replace him sitting beside me on the mattress. Feeling my body in that perfectly tucked-in state that means he’s taken the time to cover me, and position me, I smile sleepily.

‘I have to go.’

What?

I squint at the breathtaking man looking down at me, my eyes panning his slightly damp hair, his clean-shaven jawline, and his pristine black suit.

I jolt up, rolling the heels of my palms along my eyes, working them into focus. ‘What do you mean? Why are you dressed?’ Darting my gaze to the window, I see the sky is still a black abyss dotted with multicoloured lights from the city. ‘What time is it?’

‘I said don’t move,’ he deadpans, and I fall back on the mattress as he hovers over me, a serious look in his eyes. ‘Don’t be frightened, but I have to leave.’

The quiet circles us, the hum from the air conditioner the only interruption to our breath.

‘What do you mean?’ I ask, my heart suddenly beating unevenly, my hands shaking uncomfortably. A silly response to the possibility of being alone when it’s such a natural state for me to be in. It’s not about me, though. This racing heart… It’s— ‘I thought we were going to spend time…’ I trail off.

His dark, strong brows draw in, creasing his forehead, displaying glimpses of his age. He looks tired.

Did you sleep at all, Sir?

I reach up, and he turns his head, accepting my touch on his jawline. His softness sends vibrations of breath through my throat. Something is wrong.

‘Don’t panic, little deer. Listen to me and then drift back to sleep. My brothers and I went out last night to be seen,’ he states, his voice carrying faux indifference. He’s not indifferent this morning, and he’s failing to mask it. God. I don’t like this feeling at all. ‘To be photographed in Dubai.’

Words cling to my tongue.

‘Sweet girl, I don’t want secrets between us.’

I swallow thickly.

‘I believe your father is in a motorcycle club’s compound,’ he states firmly, and I squeeze my eyes shut. Holding them still to focus on my breathing as his timbre rips the air from me. This is happening. Now. I’m not ready. ‘He grew up in the District,’ he points out. ‘My father, the name Butcher and Storm, did not. My father grew up in Sicily. Jimmy too. Which is why we aligned with Dustin in the first place. He has alliances all over the country. It’s true that some of the locals fought back during the Family’s takeover. The bikers were the first to disapprove, but they followed one of their own. They followed Dustin. I have good reason to assume they have been protecting him for some time, and that he is planning something. This can’t wait.’ He pauses, his voice strangled as he says, ‘Protecting you can’t wait.’

He leans down and kisses my eyelids. One, and I take a big breath in. He moves to the other eye, so I can exhale on contact. Then his lips touch mine quickly, provoking my eyes to open when he draws back, my skin mourning his warmth.

A deep clear-blue stare, full of wisdom and severity, pins me in place. ‘We are going to take the compound as soon as we arrive back in the District tonight. Finish this for the last time. Then we’ll fly back here immediately after and be seen in Dubai within twenty-four hours.’

I try to wrap my head around his words, intent on understanding his dealings in a business way. In an emotionless way. Like him. ‘You’re using the media.’

‘Propaganda, little deer. The issue with being at the top, sweet girl, is that you’re always a topic. I had to give them a headline so they would be looking here and not in their own backyard.’

I blink over his shoulder, shuffling the information around, ignoring the ever-growing rate of my pulse. I fight the panic that rises. Swallow it down. ‘So you hid me on the way in, but then went out to be seen last night?’

‘Yes.’

Nodding mechanically, fighting the bubbling of tears, I whisper, ‘And Cassidy and Shoshanna?’

‘They will be here. With you. And Xander, also.’

Xander too. So, it’s too dangerous for his little brother?

God, breathe, Fawn.

He’ll be okay.

Don’t go, Sir.

‘Why Dubai?’ I ask, my chest beginning to strain the more I understand the situation. The gravity of it. My chest heavy with pressure, my lungs collapsing with the need to control my rising panic.

‘Because, sweet girl, despite how I feel about that pretty glow you gave Malik, he adores money nearly as much as I adore you. Of which, I believe he has no greater love affair. I will be giving him a lot of it. So, he is going to protect you. All of you while we are out of the country.’

And we need protecting because this is not safe, but while we are heavily protected, who is protecting him?

The shuddering of my heart surges through my veins and overwhelms me. My panic for the win.

Send someone else.

The guards, soldiers, henchmen.

Whatever!

Anyone else!

Abruptly, I push up, forcing him to lean back to allow me the space. His eyes turn to thin slits, glaring at me as I command, ‘Don’t go!’

‘Calm down—’

He made me rely on him.

Obsessed with him.

Love him.

Now he’s going to die!

‘To hell, I’ll calm down, Sir.’ I shake my head, scurrying along the mattress until I am standing. Putting a bit of distance between us, I square my shoulders, bare and exposed for his perusal, as always, open and available. ‘Could you die tonight? Could you leave me—’

Projecting feigned composure, he twists to face me, his features smoothly set into that practised expression. ‘If you continue to raise your voice, sweet girl—’

I laugh hysterically at nothing—it’s not even the slightest bit funny—cutting him off. His jaw pulses as I say, ‘How about, fuck you, Sir! Fuck you and your orders, and your fucking cooing and soothing. Fuck you!’

He clasps his hands in his lap, and I hear his knuckles crack under the pressure of his brewing temper. Good. He can’t bury his sentimentality from me, and he can’t drown mine in a charming smile and fussing tone.

‘Eccentric girl,’ he mutters to himself.

‘Eccentric? I’m so fucking simple. Don’t lie to me! That’s all. Don’t bullshit me. This is dangerous. You’re so willing to risk your life. You come home with a cut like a fucking axe wound in your face, that I can’t tend to, and blood all over your clothes that I can’t clean for you. You keep yourself an island while making me so utterly vulnerable and available to you. It—’

He rises to his full height, creating a formidable wall of muscles cloaked in a pristine black suit. ‘Goddamn it, Fawn,’ he bites out. ‘I’m doing this for you—’

‘You think you’re so fucking clever, Sir! And I’m so dumb. Like I won’t see this for what it is? I’ll just let you take the most important thing away from me. Well, I won’t. I’ll fight you for you. I’ll fight to keep you.’

Fight to keep him, Fawn!

I think quick.

Desperate to keep him here.

Slanting my hips in a seductive way, borderline insane and eccentric and desperate, I whisper, ‘Don’t you want to stay here and play with me?’ My feigned breathy voice shakes with emotion, but my posture earns me a hiss from his lips.

‘Stop that.’

‘Don’t you want to touch this pretty pussy, Sir?’ I touch between my thighs, pressing into my palm. ‘It’s yours.’

‘Careful,’ he rumbles, his chest thundering beneath smooth dark material, his breath building in anger and arousal.

Unable to pretend further, I snap, ‘What?’ Throwing my arms in the air, I repeat, ‘What will you do?’ God, I hope he unleashes himself on me. Hope he grabs me. Manhandles me. Punishes me. Shakes away the blood-curdling fear coursing through my bones, my muscles. ‘What will you do to me if I’m not careful?’ I shout. ‘Have me suck your cock until I calm down? Spank me? Reprimand me? Make me accountable for my words and bad manners?’

I start to tremble with fear of losing his attention, of losing him, tears spitting from my eyes. ‘Care about me? Give a shit about me? Love me?’ I scream at him, my body a vibrating figure, a vessel for more grief. ‘Love me.’

I drop to my knees.

Cover my face.

And sob helplessly into my palms, wailing. ‘That’ll all be a bit hard to do when you’re fucking dead.’

Instantly, he is beside me, his body curling around mine, straightening me from my huddled position. He cups my face and forces me to look into his fierce blue eyes. ‘I won’t die, little deer.’

‘Promise me,’ I beg, tears filling my mouth. ‘You’re my number one, Sir. My number one good thing. Promise me I’ll get the other two with you.’

‘I won’t allow myself to die,’ he states through gritted teeth, cradling my wet cheeks. His gaze, darkened by large demonic pupils, howls he’ll claw his way back from hell to be with me. And I revel in that notion.

He kisses my lips, then peppers his affection down on my face. Touching each tear. ‘I won’t allow myself to die before I give you all the things I promised you, sweet girl.’

His lips slide down my face, crashing with mine. With a jolt of desperation, I accept his kiss. Crawling onto his lap, kneeling either side of his thighs, I connect our bodies. Our mouths consume my whimpers and his possessive groans, refusing to pull away to draw in air.

His hands knead up my spine, gripping with protective intensity, pushing me hard so I arch into him. It feels a lot like sadness and vulnerability.

It feels a lot like goodbye.