Mafia King's Contract Breeder

"No," I admitted.

Emmanuel looked pleased.

"Not because I’m following your rules," I said vehemently, "I just haven’t felt like it! I don’t have sex on the mind all the time."

"Oh? Neither do I," Emmanuel said lazily. He did not press the point further, which I was glad for. "Deal again."

I dealt out another hand of cards.

This time, I had a very good hand, a ten and a jack, twenty.

"Hold," I said.

Emmanuel flipped his cards over: a queen and an ace.

"Damn it." I sighed.

Emmanuel paused for a while before asking his question this time.

"What do you want?" he asked slowly.

I blinked. Yikes, that was a big one.

"From you? Or in general?"

"In life," Emmanuel clarified. "What do you aspire to?"

That was certainly a wide range in questioning. I thought he would have asked me something else sexual, something else to make me admit that I want him.

"Um..." I glanced towards the window at a flash of lightening. "I just want a stable, peaceful life. Not having to worry about bills or putting food on the table. I want the people I love to be happy. Maybe Chloe can become an artist—what?"

I broke off my rambling answer when Emmanuel made an expression of distaste.

"I asked what you want," he said heavily. "And you barely strung together two sentences before you started talking about your sister. Do all your dreams revolve around someone else? Can’t you even dream a little bigger?"

I moved the cards angrily into the discarded pile.

"That’s another question," I snapped.

I didn’t need to explain myself to him. He didn’t know what it felt like.

Dream bigger? As if a stable, peaceful life was such an easy dream to achieve!

My top card this time was an ace. I checked the hidden card — a Queen. Twenty-one. I suppressed a triumphant smile before it gave me away.

Emmanuel glanced at my expression and turned his cards over.

He had nineteen.

"You win," he said.

About time! I thought. I considered the question carefully. Dismissed my first few ideas.

"So...what’s the story about the skull on your wall?" I asked.

I had been wondering ever since he said that it was the first man he had killed.

Emmanuel looked surprised.

"That’s what you want to know?" he murmured. "I suppose it no longer matters."

A low buzz ran through the penthouse, the electricity coming back to life. The red indicator lights on the TV and other electronics flickered on.

"I grew up in an orphanage."

Thud thud. Thud thud.

I could feel my heart racing from his first sentence, trying not to show on my face that I already knew that. Vienna had been worried to tell me that. I thought it would be a taboo topic to mention. I could hardly believe that Emmanuel was bringing it up himself.

But I pricked up my ears as he continued in a cool, emotionless tone, as if it were a story that happened to someone else.

"When I was fourteen, a man adopted me. On the very first night, he crept into my bedroom. He did not expect that I slept with a knife under my pillow—"

Emmanuel pulled back the sleeves of his pajamas to show the pair of knives that I had seen him use, strapped to his wrists in a leather holder.

"I did not let him die quickly. In fact, I got...a little too creative. He worked for one of the local cartels and his screams attracted other men from his gang— so I killed them too."

Jesus. His adoptive father tried to rape him. That’s why he killed for the first time.

He was so matter-of-fact about it all, I had no question in my mind that it was the truth. He was a handsome man now; as a teenager he must have been beautiful.

For the first time, I felt a stab of sympathy towards Emmanuel Sagres.

"Were you scared?" I blurted out.

"Scared? No, I was thrilled." Emmanuel smiled, with a hint of that manic edge I had seen when he was fighting off assassins. "I knew what he wanted before I went with him. I was looking for some vermin to practice my knife skills on. That is why I have kept the memento to this day."

...Holy shit. So much for sympathy.

I didn’t need to ask if he particularly enjoyed murdering people. He sounded all nostalgic about it.

"Another round?" Emmanuel asked.

Long fingers traced the edge of the playing card.

"That’s...enough for one night," I said faintly.

I got to my feet. My mind was swirling with revelations and emotions that I did not want to dig into too deeply.

The electricity had come back on. I was going back to my room.

A hand shot out and closed around my wrist just as I turned my back. I was spun around. My back hit the leather sofa, knocking the breath out of me.

Emmanuel Sagres loomed over me, pressing my wrist into the back of the sofa.

"Leaving so soon?" he murmured against my ear.

"Let me go!" I struggled.

"You ask me for truth, and then escape the moment that it gets a little uncomfortable. How unfair, Lara."

"I don’t want to play anymore..."

"You decided how to play, so I shall decide when it ends."

"So what do you want then?"

"That was an interesting question..." Emmanuel said thoughtfully. He cupped my cheek with one hand, brushing his thumb lightly over my bottom lip. "Why did you ask me that?"

"I wanted to understand you."

"Do you?"

A nervous, almost hysterical sound escaped my throat.

"I don’t know."

"Does it make you more or less afraid of me?"

I licked my lips. His face was inches above mine, dark hair curling over his forehead.

Slowly, I reached for him, cupping my palm over his cheek in a mirror of how he was holding me. His skin was warm and real, a hint of roughness from his stubble scratching the pads of my fingers.

Pale blue eyes flickered, but he didn’t stop me.

I traced the fullness of his lip. My hand slid around to the back of his neck, tangling in his dark curls. It felt softer than I could have imagined.

I pulled him down into a kiss.

Our lips met, and a moan instantly rose from my chest.

Less, I thought. The answer was less. I was less afraid of him after hearing it.