RUTHLESS KING

12 THIS COMPLICATES THINGS

Luca
I still can’t believe that wild little thing shot me. Dio, I am off my game. I
never would’ve let anyone get the drop on me like that. She had all the
blood rushing to the wrong head. I underestimated her, not something I’d
ever do again. Especially now that she will be living under my roof.
Stella sits on the couch, every muscle tense as Dr. Filippo finishes
stitching me up. Normally, I would’ve had her fix me up in private, but I
couldn’t risk letting Stella out of my sight. Mickey has a few jobs to finish
up, and my housekeeper, Magda, is out running errands.
I watch her from across the room as she curls a dark lock of hair around
her finger. She’s nothing like the sweet, innocent, freckle-faced little girl I
remembered. Then again, I’m not the same person either. She still hadn’t
even recognized me, her own brother’s best friend. We’d been inseparable
for nearly two years when I’d landed fresh off the boat in Little Italy.
“All set, Luca.” Dr. Filippo’s appreciative gaze lingers over my bare
chest for a few seconds longer than appropriate. She’s a beautiful woman,
but I have strict rules about mixing business and pleasure. Having a doc on
call is critical in my line of work, and I’d never risk that for a fun fuck. Stella’s eyes flicker to mine. It’s just occurred to me it’s the first time
she’s heard my first name aloud. Maybe now she’ll remember.
As I button up my shirt, I walk the doctor to the elevator that opens up
into my foyer, intensely aware of Stella’s trailing gaze. Would she try to
make a run for it again? If she did, maybe I should tell Alberto, the guard
stationed in the lobby, to let her go this time. Already, this arrangement is
shaping out to be more trouble than it’s worth.
Dr. Filippo presses a kiss to each of my cheeks, and I hand her the
envelope of cash. The woman is well-paid for her off-the-books work. I’m
fairly certain the monthly fee is more than what she makes a year at the
hospital.
“Thanks again.”
“Any time, bello.”
I force a smile and press the elevator button. Luckily, it quickly glides
shut behind her, blocking the main escape route. Only a select few know
about the secondary elevator tucked away in my bedroom for emergencies.
I spin around to meet those scrutinizing blue eyes. Earlier, I could’ve sworn
I caught her checking me out, but maybe the blood loss was affecting my
mind.
Right now, she keeps her narrowed eyes pinned to mine.
The silence lengthens, and I march to the kitchen to make myself a stiff
drink. My shoulder aches, and I could really fucking use one after the day
I’ve had. I hate disorder; my life is all about control. It’s necessary in all
aspects of my business and personal life. Less than a day, and Stella’s
reduced it to chaos.
As I pour, I lift my gaze to my new houseguest. “You want a drink?”
She scoffs.
“What?”
“Are you trying to get me drunk so I’ll be a more pliable prisoner?” “Che palle, Stella. I’m simply offering you a drink to take the edge off.
I know I need one.”
“To stave off the guilt?”
A dark chuckle escapes through my thinned lips. “It’s cute that you
think this would cause me even the tiniest amount of guilt. Do you have any
idea the things I’ve done?” I snap my jaw shut, cursing my loose lips. What
the hell is wrong with me? A beautiful face from the past has me spilling all
my sins?
“So I should be thanking you for keeping me prisoner?”
“The way I see it, I saved your cullo from Bo and the Red Dragons.
From what my men saw at the restaurant, you were destined for a much
bleaker fate.”
Her dark brows furrow. “Those were your guys at the Red Dragon last
week ….” A deep pink hue blossoms across her cheeks, matching the warm
color of her lips.
I nod and take a long pull of the perfectly aged scotch. Yes, Tony told
me exactly what that pezzo di merda was forcing her to do. The thought of
Stella on her knees and that dickhead’s hands on her makes my blood boil.
She is mine now. Official property of the Kings. No one would ever touch
her again. No one but me. A dark voice echoes across my mind. The things
I want to do to her.
No. No. No. I would wreck her, destroy her innocence. She did not
deserve that.
“Well, don’t expect a thank you any time soon.” Her soft voice distracts
me from the onslaught of dark thoughts. She settles onto the couch, the tight
set of her shoulders relaxing a smidge. Her gaze lands on the bouquet of
calla lilies on the glass table, and her lips pucker.
“You disapprove of my floral arrangement too?” I snap.
“No.” Her voice is quieter than I’ve heard yet. Her mouth thins out into
a harsh line, and I opt for a change of subject. “If you were so concerned about your safety here, why didn’t you tell the doc I was keeping you
prisoner?”
“I figured she was on your payroll. Any respectable doctor would have
to report an incident like a gunshot wound.”
“That’s what you wanted? For me to report you? You’d rather spend
years in jail than a month with me?”
Her lips screw into a damned irresistible pout. Gotcha.
“You’re blackmailing now? A bullshit contract isn’t enough so you’re
going to force me to stay by lording a shooting in self-defense over me?”
“Self-defense?” I bark. “That’s laughable.”
“You kidnapped me!”
I raise my hands and a twinge races across my shoulder. Gritting my
teeth, I motion around the sprawling penthouse with views across Central
Park. “I’m sorry, you’re right, Stella. I am a fucking monster. Forcing you
to spend an entire month here with me instead of at the mercy of Bo and
your alcoholic father at that shithole on Mulberry Street.”
She leaps to her feet and lunges. “Vaffanculo!”
I catch her wrist with my good hand before she swings at me. “Don’t,” I
snarl.
“Or what?” Her hand is an inch from my face, her body pressed against
me. “You’ll rough me up like your goons did to my dad?”
“I don’t hit women.”
“No?” She splays out her fingers and runs her nails across my cheek.
Hard. I can feel the blood oozing to the surface.
“Damn it, Stella.” I jerk her hand behind her back, pinning her body to
mine. She wriggles against me, those penetrating eyes throwing daggers.
“Stop it.” Her breasts are pressed against my chest, spilling over her tank
top. I can’t help my gaze from dropping to her tempting cleavage. A hint of
a tattoo peeks out from beneath her top, and a lethal mix of rage and
excitement streaks through my veins. Every wiggle has me growing harder.
She lifts her knee and aims for my crotch again, but this time I see it
coming. With one hand holding her and the other still nursing my cocktail, I
kick my leg out to dodge the blow. Our legs get tangled, and with her
incessant squirming and my bad shoulder, I’m knocked off balance.
And we’re falling.
The tumbler crashes to the ground, scotch, ice and glass spraying all
over us and across the marble floor. I’m about to land on top of her, but I
throw my hand out at the last minute so I don’t crush her. Instead, fiery pain
races up my shoulder and blossoms across my wound. Merda.
I hover over her, all my weight on my forearms. I’m sticky and wet, and
pissed. I shift to my good arm, and my cock brushes against her panties. I
glance between us, and her skirt is up to her waist, exposing a lacy pink
thong.
Shit.
I can feel myself hardening against her. Every wiggle, every squirm
sends heat racing down to my stupid dick. Her narrowed gaze widens, two
pools of endless blue fix to mine and horror streaks through.
“Let go of me!”
She tries to roll out from under me, but I bend my forearms, pinning her
down to the floor. A wicked grin slashes across my face. She reaches for
something in her pocket, but I catch her wrist before her fingers disappear
into the denim. I palm the top of her skirt, just above her hip and meet
something hard.
“Stop!” she shrieks.
“What is that?” I dig my fingers into her pocket, and she hisses out
another curse. Jerking the little cannister out, I stare in awe at the pepper
spray. “Were you really going to use this on me?”
“Maybe,” she spits. Dio, what have I gotten myself into? I force myself off the ground and
jerk her up with me. “What else are you hiding in there?” I eye her tight
tank top and frayed jean skirt.
“Nothing.”
“I don’t believe you.”
She pulls her pockets inside out and glares up at me. “See? Niente.”
My eyes lock on her full breasts, then trail down her slim waist and
curvy hips. She could definitely be hiding a knife in there, and after earlier,
I wouldn’t put anything past her.
I back her against the wall and run my hands down her sides.
“Che cazzo fai?” she screeches.
“What the hell am I doing? I want to make sure you don’t try to knife
me in the middle of the night, princess.”
“Well, you’re not the damned police, and I don’t consent to you frisking
me.”
With one last slow scan over every inch of her, I lean in close, my body
flush against hers, trapping her against the wall. I speak slowly, deliberately.
“If you ever try to shoot me again or spray me with that shit, hell, if you
look at me the wrong way, I will punish you.”
She glares up at me, and her palm lifts. I see it coming, but I do nothing
this time. She’s earned it for the fight she’s put up. I never expected her to
be so wild. The crack sears across my cheek, and a smile parts my lips.
“So you like it rough?” she hisses with the slap still echoing between us.
“I’m pretty sure I’d like it any way with you, princess.” A wicked grin
curls the corners of my mouth. She’s hot as fuck, especially like this, and
she’s not wrong, I do like it rough. And in this moment, there’s nothing I’d
like more than to tear her wet clothes off, bend her over the couch and fuck
her until she screams my name.
“Dream on, bastardo. Never happening.” Her mouth is a heartbeat from
my own, her hot breath ghosting over my lips. She struggles against me, palms pressed to my chest. Heat races from her fingerprints, branding me
with each touch.
Her mouth says one thing, but her body betrays her. Her dark pupils are
blown out, nipples peaked against my chest. Hell, she’s breathing heavier
than I am. Here I thought she’d be a safe bet. An answer to my dating
dilemma. I never thought sweet, innocent Stella would have a dark side.
This certainly complicates things.
Energy crackles between us, but I finally peel my body from hers. My
cock curses me out as I slowly back away. Stella still watches me, eyes
wide, as she adjusts her skirt to cover those irresistible pink panties. I swear
I see a twinge of disappointment. I should’ve expected it. If she dated Bo,
she had to have a thing for morally gray, fucked up men.
Leaning against the wall, she crosses her arms over her chest and
inhales a deep breath. “Now what?”
I eye the mess on the floor. “Now we clean that up.”
She scoffs. “So I’m supposed to be your maid too?”
“No. I have a housekeeper, thank you very much. Magda is a lovely
young woman who I’m sure you’ll meet shortly. She’s just stepped out to
run some errands.”
“Figures.”
I glance down at my white shirt and scowl at the tan splotches from the
scotch incident. My hand is sticky from the liquor, and to be honest, I could
use a nice, cold shower. “I’m taking a shower. Clean it up or don’t. Magda
will take care of it when she returns.” I spin toward the hallway that leads to
the bedrooms.
“Wait.” Her footsteps echo behind me. “I’m drenched in alcohol in case
you didn’t notice, and I don’t have any other clothes. You didn’t really give
me time to pack before you kidnapped me.” She fishes into her top and
pulls out an ice cube. Her white shirt is soaked through, revealing tight
peaked nipples. Squeezing my eyes shut, I force in a deep inhale. “Come with me.”
She follows me down the hallway, eyeing the array of paintings lining
the white walls. They’re all landscapes of Italy: Naples, my hometown, the
islands of Ischia and Capri, the Amalfi Coast, the most beautiful places on
earth, in my opinion.
“Beautiful,” she murmurs, her voice so soft I’m not certain I hear the
word.
From what I remembered, Stella and her brother were born in New
York. Her mom had met her bastard father in the U.S., and Stella had never
been to Italy. “Have you ever been?” I ask without turning.
“No.”
It’s the fucking stupidest idea ever, but for a second, I imagine the two
of us there. Strolling down the lungomare, eating gelato at the piazza. I’m
definitely losing my shit.
I finally stop at the end of the hallway in front of the double doors that
lead to my bedroom. I pause, my hand curled around the handle. I’ve never
brought a woman inside. If they even make it into my penthouse, I usually
fuck them in one of the guest bedrooms. It’s clean, sterile, and outfitted
with an array of toys. It’s silly really, but it’s one of my rules. Letting
someone in feels too intimate.
“Are we going in or what?” Stella’s breath ghosts over the shell of my
ear.
I cant my head back, and my nose nearly brushes hers. She’s on her
tiptoes, peering over my shoulder. “Yeah,” I mutter and turn the handle.