Page 14 of The Mafia King's Lost Son
“Why?” She tilts her head back to look at me through her mask. “Are you dangerous?” She chuckles.
Yes. I’m the most dangerous thing in your world right now.
“Everyone’s dangerous in a place like this.”
“Good.” Her wrists twist in my grip until I release them. “I don’t want to be safe tonight.”
She has no idea what she’s saying. No idea who she’s dancing with.
We move together and I’m slowly losing the battle with myself. My hands find her waist when they should be reaching for the knife in my boot.
“What’s your name?” she asks, her mouth close to my ear.
“What’s yours?”
“I asked first.”
“Doesn’t mean I’m answering.”
She pulls back enough to study my face. What she can see of it through the mask anyway. “Fair enough. Anonymous it is.”
“Why are you here?” The question escapes before I can stop it. “In this club. Dancing with strangers.”
“Because I’m alive.” Her voice cracks slightly and something in my chest constricts. “I shouldn’t be, but I am. And I need to feel it.”
And I’m the reckless thing she chose.
My hands tighten on her waist and I tell myself it’s just automatic. Just muscle memory from a thousand other encounters that meant nothing.
We dance and I’m at war with myself. Half of me knows I should end this now. Walk away. Come back later with a clear head and finish what I started.
The other half doesn’t want to let go.
Then she presses her face into my chest and I feel wetness soak through my shirt.
She’s crying. Silent tears that she’s trying to hide.
Fucking hell.
She looks up at me with those green eyes swimming with tears, and whatever resolve I had left begins to crack.
“Please.” Her voice breaks. “Please make me forget.”
Fuck. Don’t ask me that.
“You don’t know what you’re saying.”
“I know exactly what I’m saying.” Her hands fist in my shirt. “I need to forget. Just for tonight. I need to feel something other than terror.”
“You’re in shock. You’re not thinking clearly.”
“I don’t care.” She pulls me down closer. “Please. I need this. I need you.”
That’s when something in me shatters completely.
Not because I’ve decided to spare her life. Not because I have stopped thinking of snapping her neck or slitting her throat.
But because for one moment—just one—I want to be something other than what I am. Something other than a killer. Something other than the man who’s supposed to end her life.
