Mafia King's Contract Breeder

Lara POV

I felt bad.

I tossed and turned in my bed after that late night conversation in Emmanuel’s study. I felt like I might have hurt Emmanuel’s feelings.

Which was crazy, because by his own admission, the man did not have any feelings. But I just could not justify to myself anymore taking all the nice things he gave me and still treating him like my number 1 enemy.

In the morning, Emmanuel was already at the head of the dining table when I came out of my room. Sunlight shone on the crystal chandelier overhead, casting glittering, rainbow spots of light over the table.

Mr Ricci looked up from refilling Emmanuel’s coffee when I came in.

"Good morning."

I sat down at Emmanuel’s right side.

"Good morning, Miss. Do you want your breakfast to be served here?"

Mr Ricci glanced between Emmanuel and myself when he did not speak.

"Yes, please," I said brightly. "Could I have strawberry waffles?"

"I will let the Chef know," Mr Ricci said with an awkward little bow, walking away quickly.

Emmanuel finally looked at me.

"You seem...happy."

"I slept well," I said.

Soon, Mr Ricci put a beautifully decorated plate of waffles in front of me, decorated with chopped strawberries, blueberries, chocolate sauce, and whipped cream.

I speared a piece of waffle with strawberry and bit into it with a crunch, enjoying the flavor.

Emmanuel stared at me, watching me eat. He didn’t even take a sip of his own coffee.

"I’m really enjoying this new suite and being able to decorate it as I like," I told him.

Honesty felt weird. Not snapping at him felt weird.

I took another big bite of food to cover the awkward feeling.

"So, I mean— thank you. I appreciate it." This time, the gratitude rolled off my tongue a little easier.

"What do you like about it?" Emmanuel asked.

I paused with my fork in the air to think about it.

"I like the roof garden and the fresh air— oops—"

A slice of strawberry slid off the end of my fork.

Without thinking, I picked it up with my fingers and ate it, then licked the whipped cream clean too.

Emmanuel’s pupils dilated slightly, the air turning sticky between us.

My cheeks heated.

I hurried to babble on and fill the silence.

"I’ve never lived in a tower like this...I’m used to going outside every day."

"Then I’ll take you outside today," Emmanuel said unexpectedly.

I looked at him in shock.

"R-really?"

"Pinnacle Park is beautiful this time of year. Would you like that?"

Pinnacle Park was the most iconic park in the Capital, the one that appeared in all the postcards. Of course I wanted to go there!

And I hadn’t even had to ask.

I suddenly remembered what Srisuk said last time when Emmanuel left me tied up in his bed— men like him need stroking gently.

Was it possible that—wait for it–

If I was nice to Emmanuel Sagres, then he would be nice to me?

Yikes, what a revelation.

"Yes. Yes, I would like that," I said, an excited smile pulling at the corner of my lips.

"I’ll call a car."

—

A short ten-minute car journey later, I was stepping out of the car in front of the gates of Pinnacle Park. The scent of wet earth and freshly cut grass hit me immediately.

It was late August, turning from summer to fall, and the storm a few nights ago had brought a chill to the air.

There were a few people here and there as we walked into the park.

I looked up at Emmanuel Sagres, walking along casually beside me in a navy suit blazer paired with a silver tie, knotted to the top button.

It was the first time I had seen him in such a normal, mundane place as a park. I couldn’t get over it. Every few steps I would look back from enjoying the nature and the trees to look at Emmanuel instead.

I would have thought that he would attract attention somehow, as though there were glaring signs over his head that scream ’Mafia boss!! Arrest immediately.’

But no one gave us a second glance.

"Is it okay for you to just be out here in the open?" I asked curiously.

"Why wouldn’t it be?"

"Well." I waved a hand in his direction. "You’re kind of notorious. And there are assassins after you."

"Very few people connect my name and my face," Emmanuel reminded me pointedly.

Yeah, including me, once upon a time...

"And assassins wouldn’t choose a place like this."

"Oh. I guess that makes sense."

Two dogs barked at each other halfway down the path. A young couple went by, pushing a pram. I couldn’t imagine the assassins in combat suits bursting out of the treeline.

"Why does a mafia boss who operates in the slums live in Central Island anyway?" I asked.

"That is not all I am," Emmanuel replied. "And it is not what I intend to remain."

"Really?" I spun around to look at him. "What do you want to be?"

"Do you know where most of my profit goes to?"

"Paying electricity bills for your giant tower?" I quipped.

Emmanuel shot me a dry, amused glance, and then nodded towards the distance, towards the north.

"To Kensington Hills," he said, a dark undertone in his voice.

I followed his gaze. The hill rose on a gentle slope beyond the north boundary of Pinnacle Park, the place where even the smallest house cost multiple millions.

The place where people were so ridiculously rich that even in my wildest fantasies, I never thought of moving there.

"Where they keep their hands clean, but still earn the lion’s share for looking the other way. A much finer business model, don’t you think?"

What an ambition for an orphan from East Windlem.

The fact that he had become the mafia king from an orphan was incredible enough— mafia tended to be a family business.

The sort of power that dwelled on Kensington Hill was even more generational, inherited, and exclusive.