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

“It’s only eight, and Europeans prefer later dinners anyhow.” It would seem Kingston had all the answers. He rose to his feet, and my grip on the covers tightened. He must have noticed it because I saw the hint of a smirk around his lips. “Be downstairs in five minutes,” he ordered, then headed out of the room.

It wasn’t until he was gone that his words sunk in. Europe! I was on an island in freaking Europe.

Chapter 39Kingston

As we dined, the tension was so thick it could’ve bounced off the wall.

I took a sip of my sparkling water, needing all my wits about me as I dealt with this woman who managed to surprise me at every turn. She wasn’t the Liana I remembered.

“How’s your food?” I asked.

“I hate steak,” she growled, candlelight flickering across her face. “I hate mashed potatoes, and I hate corn.”

“Too bad, it’s my favorite meal.” I enjoyed all fine food, but I found the freedom of being able to grill my own food extremely gratifying after spending years being fed slop by her mother and stepfather.

I cut through my steak and shoved a piece into my mouth, then chewed it slowly as I studied her. I usually preferred solitude, but for some reason, I wanted this woman around me. So I forced this dinner.

Something inside me kept driving me to figure her out and understand this pull she had on me.

“A gentleman would ask what a lady’s preferences are,” she hissed.

“Good thing I’m not a gentleman.”

“I forgot.” She waved her fork in the air. “You’re a creep.” She wasn’t far off. When my restlessness got the best of me earlier today, I went to her room and watched her sleep. It wasn’t until I heard the soothing sound of her breaths that I calmed down. “I’ll be sure to return the favor,” she said, interrupting my thoughts.

My fingers tightened around my steak knife. I should warn her it would be unwise to sneak up on me. In fact, I’d killed people in the past who’d done just that.

I pushed my plate away and leaned forward.

“If you come into my room, I’ll consider it an invitation,” I said without a hint of emotion.

She sat opposite of me, her body rigid and her knuckles white. Every so often, she shot me a glare, and I imagined she was probably picturing all the ways she could slice me and dice me with her cutlery. I made a mental note to only give her butter knives going forward, although my instinct warned she’d probably find a way to end me using those too, which wouldn’t bode well for her. There was nobody on this island, and the only way off of it was by plane or boat. Neither of which she had access to.

“Invitation to what?” she asked, her tone hesitant.

“To fuck you into oblivion.”

Her cheeks flushed a delicate shade of pink and she gazed up at me through her thick lashes, making my heart twist. It reminded me so much of Louisa.

“You’re a fucking deviant,” she said, her voice breathy. She must have realized it because she clenched her teeth. “If I come into your room, you’ll be dead before your dick has a chance to get hard.”

And there was that.

Since Louisa’s death, my cock hadn’t responded to a single woman. I grieved my sunshine, then turned to celibacy with the full intention of dying that way. Until this one crossed my path. I didn’t know what it was—her resemblance or her fire—but suddenly my dick decided to play. And it was wrong on so many levels.

The rest of our dinner resumed in silence despite many questions that needed answers.

I sat in my office attempting to handle a few emails and pay some bills. My mother left me a chunk of her inheritance and the empire she’d inherited from her father, but it came with responsibilities. And so did my own wealth I’d built on blood. My skills of tracking down people were highly sought after in the Omertà.

When the grandfather clock chimed midnight, I found myself staring at the laptop connected to my surveillance feed, watching Liana in the library like it was my sole purpose in life.

My heart thumped at the sight of her, and a yearning ache spread to my chest. I needed to understand this growing obsession with Liana, but this—having her nearby—would have to do for now.

I watched her cuddled up on the sofa, her legs folded and a blanket over her lap. She was beautiful, still wearing the same delicate clothes from dinner. Her hair tumbled down her slender shoulders in a cascade of sun-streaked waves. Her smooth skin radiated under the warm gleam of the roaring fire.

Holding the pad with her right hand and using the pencil with her left, she sketched. What or who she was drawing, I had no idea, but every once in a while, she’d throw a bundle of paper into the fire. Both twins drew, but Lou was always better at it, and judging by the way Liana watched her sketches burn with her eyebrows knitted together, hers hadn’t improved.