Page 26 of Mafia Crown

I blink, not expecting that answer. “You live here?”

“Not yet.” He glances up, his gaze brushing mine before returning to the food. “Still renovating. It’s taking longer than I planned, but I’m hoping to move in eventually.”

The fact that Kieran—cold, ruthless, terrifyingKieran—has a dream of settling down here is… unsettling. I never thought he’d be the kind of man who wanted something like this.

“Why this place?” I ask, softer now.

He shrugs, but there’s something deeper beneath the gesture. “It’s quiet. Away from everything.”

Away from blood, violence, and whatever hell he’s buried himself in. I don’t push him further.

His phone buzzes on the counter, the vibration cutting through the silence. He picks it up, glances at the screen, and, without a word, heads for the back door. I watch him step outside, the door clicking shut behind him.

From the window, I see him pace the small patio, the phone pressed to his ear. Then he smiles—a real, genuine smile. The kind that reaches his eyes and makes him look completely different. The tension in his jaw vanishes, and his shoulders relax as he leans against the railing.

My stomach flutters, and I hate it.

Don’t get comfortable,I remind myself. But it’s hard when I’m staring at him like this, seeing the man hidden beneath the layers of danger and control. He’s attractive. Too attractive when he isn’t terrifying me.

He ends the call and steps back inside, bringing the cold air with him. His gaze flicks to mine, and for a second, I wonder if he can tell I was watching him.

“Who was that?” I ask before I can stop myself. I don’t expect him to answer.

“My sister.” He sets a plate down in front of me—a sandwich and a cup of tea.

I stare at the food, then back at him. He’s not someone whogivesthings freely. Yet here we are.

“She just got her provisional license,” he says, sitting across from me. “She’s studying midwifery now.”

“She sounds lovely,” I say, and I mean it. There’s something about the way he talks about her that feels sacred.

“She is. She’s the best.” His voice softens, and for a moment, the wall between us thins. The love he has for her is something pure, untouched by the darkness that clings to him.

I take a bite of the sandwich, then take a drink, letting the warmth of the tea soothe me as I try to make sense of this man. The silence stretches, but it’s not uncomfortable. I find myself wanting to know more, even if I shouldn’t.

“Does she know what you do?”

The question makes him freeze. His jaw tightens, and the softness from earlier vanishes.

“No.” His answer is quick, clipped, and final. He doesn’t want to talk about this, and I know better than to push him.

“Eat,” he says, his tone shifting back to command.

We eat in silence, sitting close enough that I can feel his warmth. My eyes wander, tracing the tattoos along his arms and neck. They’re intricate, bold, and endless, like they tell a story only he can understand. I remember seeing him without a shirt this morning—the way the ink covered every inch of his torso, curling around the muscles beneath his skin like vines claiming territory.

I stare too long.

His gaze snaps to mine, catching me before I can look away. My face heats, and I quickly focus on my sandwich, pretending I wasn’t just imagining what those tattoos would feel like under my fingers.

“This is the only life I’ve known,” he says, breaking the silence. His voice is low, almost hesitant. “I’d kill for this family. I have before. I’ll do it again.”

His words hit me like a punch to the gut, but there’s no pride in his tone. Just cold, hard truth. He’s not bragging. He’s confessing.

“But I’m hoping to find a way out,” he adds, almost to himself.

Something shifts between us. The air thickens, charged with things neither of us are ready to say. For the first time, I see him not just as the man who’s kidnapped me, but as someone trapped in a life he didn’t choose. Someone who’s searching for a way to be something else.

“Do you think you’ll find it?” I ask softly.

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