The Darkest King: A Dark Mafia Romance (The Dark Kings of NYC Book 1)
Chapter 2

Oh God! Donna is going to kill me. She’ll have to hurry, as Connor Barrett looks like he’s two steps ahead of her.

Then he smirks at me.

Holy fuck.

Connor Barrett doesn’t smile. He was on the cover of Forbes once, and it was obvious the photographer had asked him to smile, but Connor just looked like he was snarling.

His smirk is different, and it just lights my panties on fire.

I stare up at those lopsided lips, square jaw, and deep chocolate eyes—full of thoughts I’m sure most women would give anything to experience—and realize Connor Barrett is a sex god.

Damn.

Until this week, I never thought I’d be standing in front of the dark-haired and ridiculously handsome man. When Donna asked who wanted to greet the billionaire when he arrived, all the girls on the team turned into something resembling a teen reality show.

I sighed and said I would do it.

“Thank you, Mia,” Donna, my manager, had said. “I’m sure he won’t bite.”

Staring into his eyes, I’m pretty sure he does, and although I’m not in the market for a one-night stand, I think I’d be very okay with him biting me.

Anywhere.

Powerful men don’t scare me. Okay, they do scare me, but just the right amount, according to the situation.

This isn’t one of them.

Mr. Sex-God Barrett isn’t a threat to me.

My panties? Oh yes.

I’ve grown up around much more dangerous men than Connor, and all of them would give their lives to save me. Or rather, save themselves.

My name is Mia Mancini. Daughter of Joseph, or Joe “The Rock”, Mancini, head of the Italian mafia here in the United States. He’s one of seven bosses affiliated with the global Italian mafia.

In other words, he’s a big deal.

And yes, that makes me the mafia princess.

Unfortunately.

I’d rather be just an everyday girl, working and paying my taxes, dating and shopping at Walmart. Which I do, but it’s a farce and very, very temporary.

When I left college two years ago, Father agreed, after a lot of crying and screaming, to let me go out into the world and get some work experience. My mother had died a few years earlier, and I played the card hard. You have to do what you can in the gangster world to survive. I might not like the world I grew up in, but I learned a thing or two.

I have my own apartment, a job at Bloom Events Management, friends…and no one knows who I am.

Not even Donna.

I’m just Mia.

Mia Mancini…but it’s a common enough name.

Joe, my father, gave me two years, then I must return and work in the family—a.k.a. gangster—business. Or, and get this, I can marry and he will give me my trust fund.

A trust fund worth two million dollars.

Twenty-four years old and I have barely dated. I’m not a virgin, but dating the head of the mafia’s daughter isn’t on the top of any man’s to-do list.

There’s more.

It’s likely the man I marry will be chosen by my family. Or rather, Joe. If there is a partnership to be made that benefits the family, it is expected of me. My mother primed me to be prepared, but it’s not a given.

However, I have been kept out of the media’s eyes and protected because of who I am.

A mafia asset.

But I have different plans. I love my family, but I don’t want any part in the business they are involved with. Yes, it pays for my apartment and financed my education. I’ve not had the freedom of choice to do anything differently.

But that ends now.

When I marry, it will be for love.

I’m working toward freedom and independence. Or at the very least, not being involved with the soul-destroying business my family profits from.

I just haven’t figured out how yet.

In around two weeks, this bubble I’ve been living in for nearly two years is about to burst, so my plan is to renegotiate with my father for more time.

I’m confident.

So, this mafia princess has some experience being around large and intimidating men. Just about every single one of my father’s soldiers has run their eyes over my body and shown me they desire me.

I’ve slept with a few of my bodyguards—sorry, Papa—and enjoyed their broad chests and height compared to my petite frame, the dominant way they took me.

But the hunger I feel staring up into the rich brown eyes of Connor Barrett is beyond any type of arousal a man has elicited from me before in my life.

My hands are clammy, and my throat nearly clunks as I swallow. Worse, it feels like my core is throbbing so loud the entire room can hear.

I can see in his eyes that dark knowing sparkle—he is enjoying the way he’s affecting me. Connor’s well aware of what he’s doing.

I can smell whiskey on his breath, he’s standing so close. Or maybe it’s the bourbon I just poured down his tuxedo. All I want him to do is kiss me.

Irrational.

But I do.

Just one mind-blowing, wild kiss, then I can carry on with my life.

“I think the word you’re looking for is ‘sorry,’” Connor says slowly, darkly.

You assume I can form words right now, sir.

I cannot.

I’m also quite sure my panties are just as wet as his tux, so it feels like an equal swap, but I don’t say that, of course. Instead, I do something even stupider. I run my hands over his jacket and shirt, feeling solid, ripped muscles as I go, and attempt to wipe the bourbon away.

Oh God, I’m insane.

“Mr. Barrett, I’m so sorry,” I say as I keep touching him. Then he grabs my wrists and I freeze, drawing in a breath.

“Are you planning to brush the stain off?” Connor raises a single brow at me.

He’s amused, but there’s no hiding the desire, the lust, the wanting, written all over his face. I’m surprised he’s not trying to hide it.

I replace myself unable to look away.

A man standing several feet behind him lets out a quiet snort. My eyes dart to the man, and I’m suddenly embarrassed.

Connor smirks wider, and my shame turns to anger.

Does he think he can intimidate me with his size and money?

Wrong girl, buddy.

“No, of course not.” I take a step away, and his hands begin to release my wrists, but not before they tighten for a moment. My body flares at the dominance.

God, I bet he’s an incredible lover.

Too bad I’ll never get to replace out.

Connor watches me intently, and when I run my tongue over my lips—unintentionally, I might add—his eyes narrow darkly. I simply blink back. He tips his head an inch, curious why I’m not intimidated.

Keep wondering, Mr. Barrett. You won’t guess.

However, I am impacted by his powerful height and size and the chemistry flowing between us. I want his hands back on me. I also want to run. Not from fear, but from the enormous amount of desire running through my body. It has the power to overwhelm me.

None of which matters because, despite this moment between us, I am Mia, the events coordinator, and Connor is a powerful billionaire desired by millions of women around the world.

I shake off my attraction—fail—and take in the golden stain on the front of his white shirt.

Damn, it’s bad.

My job is important to me, and Donna is inside the conference, waiting for me to bring our VIP speaker—Connor Barrett—through to go on stage.

Like, now.

There might only be two weeks of my freedom left—or more—but I don’t want to lose my job.

I bite my lip.

How the hell am I going to fix this?

We have contingencies for a lot of things, but destroying the guest speaker’s designer tux is not one of them.

“I—”

Donna pushes through the door behind me, interrupting us.

“Mia, what…Oh, Mr. Barrett.” She clears her throat. Then she glances at me in question.

Fuck.

“There’s been an accident,” I say, stating the obvious. My hands clench in front, and I hate how they give away my nerves.

Connor’s eyes move from my hands and over to Donna, taking in the dynamics between us. He thinks I’m concerned about losing my job, and he’s right, even though it’s incredibly unlikely. His eyes drift across my face and meet mine.

I can barely breathe.

The ball is in his court, and he knows it. He needs to react. Is Connor going to go all prima donna on us, or brush it off?

A dangerous glint sends an icy chill down my spine.

Please don’t, I want to say, but I will never beg. Whether I like it or not, I’m a mafia princess, and I know my worth and power.

I will never bow to any man.

Not even Connor Barrett.

“Oh.” Donna gasps, noticing the stain and breaking the tension. “We have some spare white shirts in the back, but I doubt we will have one in your size. I’m so sorry about this. Mia, can you—”

“There’s no need.” Connor turns to the man behind him, who nods. In just under a minute, he’s back and handing the billionaire a fresh new shirt. Connor thanks the man and then…begins to undress.

In front of us.

“Thanks, Mack,” Connor says.

Donna and I stand there with our mouths open while he removes his jacket and shirt, baring his chest.

Sweet baby Jesus.

I was right. He’s ripped, with those thick juicy pecs you just want to lick. His arms—holy mother of mercy—are smooth and powerful. But it’s Connor’s tattoos, hidden under his corporate attire, which surprise me.

They appear tribal.

I’m not an expert on ink, despite it being on every man in my family—and I have one of my own—but what I do know is whether they look hot or not.

And it absolutely is.

This dark swirly piece of art covers one of his pecs, and I spot another poking from the waistband of his pants. I want to nudge his pants down to see the rest.

He lifts his eyes, as if he can read my mind, and heat flares between us. I literally feel my cheeks warming.

Crap.

I know my nipples are hard, so I cross my arms over my black Bloom Events Management T-shirt and admit this man has tilted me off my axis.

I do not like it.

I need to remain professional and gain some control.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Barrett. That was clumsy of me,” I say, and as Donna is taking his shirt and rolling it up, Connor Barrett fucking…winks…at me.

My eyes fly open.

Is he flirting with me? Openly?

People recognize Connor for his serious, powerful, and scrupulous nature. But he’s no playboy. Nor is he charming. He’s extremely discrete about his personal life. The media speculate, but he never has a woman on his arm at events and seems to be a solo creature.

I doubt it now that I’ve met him. As someone who comes from a powerful family, I know the lengths women will go to marry or trap a wealthy man. It’s my guess he just doesn’t have the time or inclination to be bothered with dating, so he’s subtle about how he obtains his…pleasure.

If he thinks a night with me is an option, then I need to be clear it’s not. It would be dangerous for both of us.

Not that he knows who I am.

And it must stay that way.

If my identity is revealed, there goes my freedom.

“The jacket is still wet, sir.” Mack holds the black item up with two hands.

“I’ll live,” Connor replies, taking it and sliding it over his big shoulders. “Make sure we put a complete suit in the car as a backup.”

As Mack nods and pulls out his phone, I cringe.

“So sorry. Again,” I say, this time shooting a glance Donna’s way so she knows how much I mean it.

“Mia, accidents happen. It’s fine. I’m sure Mr. Barrett understands. We’ll have it all dry cleaned.” Donna looks his way. “Speak to Mia before you leave, and she can arrange it for you. We’ll have it back to you in a few days.”

I nod at them both. “Even tomorrow,” I say eagerly. After all, it was my fault, and I want to show Donna I am going out of my way to fix this.

Because I believe in miracles, and if I can convince my father to extend my life outside the family, then I need this job.

Well, a girl can dream.

We watch as Connor tucks himself in because, honestly, we’d be stupid not to.

“Meet me out here after my speech, Mia.” Connor’s eyes meet mine for a brief second before he turns to the conference room door and nods at Donna. “Shall we?”

When the doors close behind the two of them, Mack clears his throat beside me, holding the door handle so I can’t open it.

I turn my head.

He’s clearly Connor’s personal security.

“Take my advice and stay far away from him, sweetheart.” His voice is rough.

Something in his warning irks me. He sees me as nothing but another adoring fan. A woman who wants his money and power.

Pfft.

I should’ve kept my mouth shut, but I don’t.

“On the contrary,” I reply, holding his stare, “it’s me he should stay away from.”

I am a mafia princess, after all.

I don’t need his money or power. It’s freedom I want.

It’s love I long for.

Neither Connor nor my father offer either of those things, but I am determined, one day, to have both.