Kiss Of Death: A Dark Mafia Romance

by LP Lovell

  She pulls away and I release her. “You shouldn’t ask questions you already know the answer to.” I cock a brow and she rolls her eyes. “It wouldn’t have been fatal.”

  “Reassuring,” I mumble, leading her back through the woods.

  As soon as we break the treeline, Gio, Tommy, and two soldiers are standing there, guns in hand and waiting. Gio glares at Una and she gives him a one fingered salute before strutting past him, her hips swinging with every step. Tommy peels off and follows her. God knows he’s the safest around her.

  “Could you stop staring at her ass long enough to tell me what the fuck is going on?” Gio says impatiently.

  “The Russian is coming. I want all our best men to be ready to leave in an hour.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “The penthouse. It’s impossible to breach, and that makes it the safest place we have.” Part of me wants to take Una and run, but I’ve never run from anything. I feel as though I’m being torn in two. The more primitive part of me, is warring with this new part, this instinct that needs to protect that baby at any cost. But the fact is, Una and I are feared for a reason. She’s told me that we can’t do this, that our world is dangerous. The irony is that in order to protect that baby, we need to be exactly what we are: formidable, feared and powerful. That, I can do.

  Una hasn’t said a word, the entire ride from the Hamptons. The second we get into the penthouse, she heads for the stairs. I can tell she’s scared. That in and of itself should frighten me. I discuss a few things with the guys. Security, shifts, intelligence on the ground, and then I climb the stairs and push the bedroom door ajar. Light from the hallway spills into the dark room, and I can just make out Una on the bed. George lays beside her, his head resting on her chest as she runs her fingers over the top of his head.

  I walk in, and my would be guard dog leaps up, running out of the room. I swear that dog turns into a total rebel when she’s around.

  I strip out of my suit, and go take a shower. The hot water pummels my tense muscles, but does nothing to help. I’m wound so damn tight. I need to either fight or fuck. When I walk back into the bedroom, Una is lying on her back, staring at the ceiling. Her lips are pressed together in a tight line and she has that determined look in her eye that she sometimes gets. She doesn’t move when I get in bed beside her.

  “What’s going through that mind of yours, Morte?”

  “It was all so pointless.” She turns her head to the side. “I was willing to sacrifice anything for this baby.”

  “You would have left,” I say, remembering our conversation, her telling me she didn’t want to be a mother. Something about it didn’t sit right with me. No one goes to that much effort for a life they would happily walk away from.

  “As long as Nicholai didn’t think it was mine, it would have been safe. So yes, I would have stayed away.”

  I release a heavy breath. “Una…”

  “But the time for selfless acts has passed. He just brought a war to our doorstep.” Her eyes lock with mine and she rolls over, dragging her nails over my jaw as she brushes her lips across mine. “I don’t know that we can win, but I need you. We kill them all, or we die trying.” There’s my queen, bloodstained crown in place.

  I smile and roll on top of her. “I live for war, Morte.”

  “Then we slaughter everyone that would do us harm.”

  Fuck, she’s hot when she’s violent. I wrench the button of her jeans so hard that it pops off, and then, I’m tugging the material down her legs along with her underwear. Sliding my hands under her ass, I wrench her up and press my mouth over her pussy. A staggered moan leaves her lips as she threads her fingers though my hair, pulling me closer. She rolls her hips, pushing against my mouth as I thrust my tongue inside her. One leg around the back of my neck, and squeezes, choke holding me as she flips me onto my back. Her thighs now straddle my face, her pussy on my lips. I drag my tongue up the length of her as she fucks my face. It’s not long before her entire body stills and tenses, long moans slipping past her lips. I love watching her break for me, because I know Una doesn’t break. Not for anyone. This right here, is a rarity, a gift that she bestows upon me because she knows I’m strong enough to take it from her.

  Her body goes limp and I toss her to the side, getting to my knees and flipping her onto her front. She pants heavily and her skin is coated in a fine mist of sweat.

  “I fucking want you, Morte.” Gripping a handful of her hair, I pull her up onto her hands and knees, wrenching her head to the side. I kiss up the side of her neck and she trembles. “You’re mine,” I breathe against her ear. Gripping her hip tightly, I slide into her in one thrust.

  Lust and violence swirl between us, mixing with a mutual need to protect the same thing. For the first time, Una and I are completely on the same team and I can feel the power of that. We are one, and we will be unstoppable.

  She twists her head to the side and kisses me. She feels like heaven and I will never get enough of her, never grow tired. Everything about her challenges and pushes me, and I crave her. I need her at my side.

  My name falls from her lips, and then she’s moaning, her back bowing as she pushes back against me. I love seeing her like this, completely vulnerable just for me. She clenches around me and I groan as pleasure fires through my body. I tell her she’s mine, but as I come, I know without a doubt, that she owns part of me.

  “Fuck!” A groan slips from my lips. We both pitch forward, and I rest my face between her shoulder blades, breathing hard over her damp skin. Eventually, she rolls onto her back. She looks so damn innocent, hair messy, cheeks flushed, and her body swollen with the baby I put in her. I press my lips to hers and work down her chest, sucking one nipple into my mouth as I go. And then, I press a kiss against the taught skin of her stomach. “No baby will ever be more protected,” I murmur, glancing up at Una.

  She arches a brow. “I think most people just buy a minivan and tape up the electrical sockets.”

  “We aren’t most people, Morte.”

  Her brows pull together and a small line sinks between them. “Is this what fear feels like?”

  “Maybe.”

  She rubs at her chest. “I feel like I’m unravelling and everything I’ve ever known is being picked apart a thread at a time. Maybe I’m just not meant for this?”

  “No one was ever more suited.” She’s vicious and dangerous, and I pity anyone who ever tries to hurt her child. She may not be classic mother material, but you only have to look at the animal kingdom to see that the best mothers are also the most lethal ones.

  When I wake up in the morning, Una is gone and, as per usual, I have to go in search of her. I find her in the kitchen, standing in front of Gio with a glare on her face. “I’m going to count to three, and then I’m going to snap your neck and leave your body right here for Nero to find.”

  “I’m not--” Gio starts.

  “One.” I walk up behind her and kiss her neck before moving past the pair of them in search of coffee. “Two.”

  “Why are you counting him down?” I squint at her.

  She glares over Gio’s shoulder. “I want my guns, and he won’t give them to me.”

  I sigh and brace my hands on the kitchen side, waiting for the black nectar to brew. “Gio, I’ve got this.”

  He walks away, shaking his head as he goes. He puts up with way more shit than I have any right to ask of him.

  “No, you have not got this,” Una strides up to me, the look on her face promising pain.

  “Morte, you and guns…”

  She points at me. “Don’t you fucking dare. I’m a better shot than any of your shit soldiers. I’m a better shot than you. So how is this going to go, Nero? Are you going to treat me like a prisoner? Your own personal incubator?” She scowls at me, her jaw set into a hard line. “I do not need you, remember that.”

  She always has to push. I grab her around the throat, pulling her face close to mine, “Don’t fucking push me, be
fore I’ve had coffee.” She continues to glare, but makes no effort to get out of my hold. “You are not a prisoner. You are my equal.” I shove her away and hand her the key to the armory.

  She turns away before throwing over her shoulder. “Actually, I’m The Kiss of Death. No one is my equal.”

  Damn, she makes me want to hurt her and fuck her. I swear to god, the second that baby is out of her… By the time I’ve had my coffee, Una is coming down the stairs wearing her yoga pants and a sports bra, with her earphones in. Her hair is pulled into a high ponytail and her hands are wrapped.

  “Fancy a round?” she flashes me a wry smile.

  “I’m not fighting with you.” My eyes drop to her stomach and judging by the look on her face it pisses her off.

  “You can just be my punch bag then.”

  “Anyone would think you just want to ruin my pretty face.” I smirk.

  “You are far too pretty to be a mafia boss. Sure you don’t want me to give you a few scars? Make you look more badass?”

  She passes me and swipes her finger over the still healing cut on my neck from last week.

  “I have plenty of scars courtesy of you, thanks.” Namely the fucking great ugly hole she put in my shoulder. “But just think of it this way, if you ever decide to kill me, my head will make a much prettier trophy than Arnaldo’s.”

  “True.” A satisfied grin plays across her lips. Just the memory of Arnaldo’s decapitated head is enough to make me hard for her. He found out the tough way what happens when you piss Una off. She’s merciless.

  I take a step towards her as she backs towards the gym.

  “Did I ever tell you how hot I find your extreme bouts of violence?”

  She shrugs one shoulder and backs away from me. “Hormones.”

  “Still hot.”

  “You’re sick,” she says as she pushes open the basement door and closes it behind her.

  “Says the woman whose hormonal outbursts include blowing up a house and killing eighteen men,” I mumble to myself before heading to the office.

  15

  Una

  I pound over the heavy bag again and again until my arms ache and sweat runs down my back. I half expect Nero to come in here and check up on me, but he doesn’t and I’m grateful. I need some time to think, to go through everything in my mind. Part of me hates that Nero caught me. That part feels like it’s his fault that we’re here because he wouldn’t just let me run. But then I think: what if we can win this? It’s pretty unlikely, but what if we could? And there it is—hope. Nero makes me feel things, want things, and I think I’d rather go down in a blaze of glory with him at my side, rather than give my child to a stranger and go back to Nicholai to play his favorite pet again. He reaches too far, asks for too much, and I will kill him or die trying.

  When approaching Nicholai, everything needs to be strategic. He doesn’t think like normal people. He is the embodiment of the ultimate predator; intelligent, persistent, ruthless, wealthy, and insane. Add all of that together and we’re facing an opponent that genuinely frightens me. I’ve been trained to fear nothing, but it’s easy not to fear when the worst case scenario is death. My own death I am not afraid of, but my baby’s… Suddenly fear is a very real, very tangible thing, and I don’t like it. I don’t like the way it settles on my chest and makes the simple act of drawing a breath feel like a chore. I pause and rest my forehead against the bag, drawing deep breaths.

  No, I won’t let that happen. Even if I fall, Nero will be there. I have to trust that. The path before me seems so clear and yet impossible. The only way Nicholai will ever stop is if he’s dead, but can it be done? Can such a key player in the Bratva really be taken down? Maybe, if I can get close enough to him. After all, I am his favorite.

  I shove away from the bag and leave the gym, unwrapping my hands as I go. George is lying outside the gym door, but leaps up the second he sees me. My fingers trail his sleek coat as he walks beside me. I turn at the sound of pounding footsteps and watch one of Nero’s soldiers go running past me, his hand pressed to his ear piece as he speaks. All I hear is one word: intruder. It’s enough to make my heart rate pick up and have me diverting to the armory, a reinforced panic room hidden behind a panel in the dining room. Nero is nothing if not resourceful. I press the key fob into the slot in the wall and enter a code. The door opens with a hiss and I step inside. There’s a wall of weapons on one side and TV screens on the other, all showing various cameras in the apartment and building. I glance at each of them, pausing on the lobby. I narrow my eyes at the group of men in suits, all surrounding a single man. Tall and lean, with golden blond hair and a lethal stance. Sasha. Two men lie at his feet, either unconscious or dead. The guys surrounding him are wary, though he seems calm. Typical Sasha. Is he friend or foe now? It’s no secret that his loyalty is with Nicholai. But he did approach Nero, and he helped me run. I hesitate for a moment before leaving the room and heading for the elevator. There’s one guy standing guard, and he reaches for his gun as soon as he sees me.

  “You guys really need to get the memo that I’m not a prisoner,” I growl.

  “Sorry, ma’am. Boss’ orders. No one leaves. No one comes in.” I smile, stepping close enough that my bulging stomach brushes against him. “Firstly, call me ma’am again, and I will cut your tongue out. Secondly, think of me as an extension of Nero, because if you disrespect me again, it’s not going to go well for you.” Shaking, he nods, and I plaster a fake smile on my face. “Now, radio down to those idiots and tell them to let Sasha up.”

  “Do not touch your radio,” Nero’s voice comes from behind me, low and commanding.

  I turn on him with a glare. “Seriously?”

  Nero’s wearing only a pair of workout pants, his hair still damp from the shower. “You trust him?” he asks incredulously.

  “Of course. It’s Sasha.” It’s not a complete lie. I trust that he wouldn’t come here to hurt me, but not that he wouldn’t tell Nicholai everything he knows. I don’t judge him for it, the kind of upbringing we had, it warps your mind through both fear and conditioning. I felt that same blind loyalty to Nicholai for years, but I had something to hold onto outside of that facility—my sister. Sasha never had that. The closest thing he has to family is me and Nicholai, and I’m essentially making him choose between his father and his sister.

  “What if he’s here to kill you? Wouldn’t he be the perfect pawn? He’s close enough to you that you trust him, skilled enough to take you down, and no doubt dispensable, so if I kill him afterwards, Nicholai won’t care.”

  “Sasha’s good, but not better than me, let alone when I’m surrounded by half the mob.” I roll my eyes. “And Nicholai doesn’t want me dead. That’s the last thing he wants.”

  “Una…”

  “Please, just trust me. He might have information. He’s done nothing but help us so far.”

  Dark brows pull together and he folds his arms over his broad chest. “I don’t like it.”

  “Acknowledged.”

  “Don’t tell him anything. How did he even know you’re here? Does Nicholai know where you are?”

  “Capo,” I snort, “you own two properties in New York. It’s not difficult, plus, Sasha can hack any security camera, anywhere. If he wants to find someone, he’ll find them.” I jerk my chin towards the camera in the corner of the room. “He can hack through all your firewalls. He’s good.”

  “That’s reassuring,” he grumbles. “Tell them to bring him up,” he says to the guy still standing behind me. He relays the instruction and I wait for the elevator to climb. Nero moves to stand slightly in front of me like my own personal guard dog. On pure principle, I step up beside him, folding my arms over my chest.

  The elevator pings and the doors slide open, revealing a wall of suited Italians. Nero’s men still don’t like me, and most of them either glare at me or ignore me altogether. I don’t care, but I worry that their loyalty to Nero might waver since he’s fucking the enemy. He and I know
that it was retaliation, but even I’ll admit that twenty-one dead Italians is hard to explain. And well, Italians all seem to be linked. Guaranteed, every guy I killed has a cousin or nephew or brother within Nero’s ranks, which is always comforting.

  The suits step out, filing to either side of the doors and revealing Sasha. His face is steely as always, features severe and angular. A small frown line sinks between his brows as his eyes move from my face to my stomach.

  “So it’s true,” he says simply. I nod and he glances around the room. I can see his mind processing every detail, looking for threats. He’s assessing everything, from the distance between us to the way each man is holding his gun, spotting weaknesses, planning, strategizing. I know, because it’s exactly what I do when I’m in a hostile situation.

  “Why are you here, Sasha?” I ask.

  He glances at Nero, and then back to me, his lips pressed in a thin line. “Give us a minute,” I say to Nero.

  “No.”

  I turn to face him and he simply stares straight at Sasha, his expression giving away nothing.

  “Nero…”

  Nero looks at the guys either side of the elevator. “Go.” He orders them. “Gio, stay.” The men do as instructed, filing away into the apartment and leaving just Gio, Nero, Sasha and me. Sasha’s eyes meet mine. I know what he’s thinking, that I just thinned out the herd and evened the odds. I step towards him and he closes the distance between us, pulling me into a stiff hug which makes me tense. Sasha and I have never hugged. It’s not something you do when neither of you can stand being touched.

  “I’m so sorry I helped them get to you. We have to get you as far away from here as possible,” he whispers in Russian, so quietly it’s barely above a breath. I feel something solid pressing against my stomach and slowly reach down, my fingers brushing over the cool metal of a gun. “Ready?” he asks, body tense and primed for an attack.