The Darkest King: A Dark Mafia Romance (The Dark Kings of NYC Book 1)

Between Mia’s aunts telling her they’re happy—but shouldn’t you choose someone Italian…and Catholic—and her uncle Antonio glaring at me across the dinner table, I’ve had enough of the Mancini family.

But it’s Cade who holds most of my attention.

His behavior is odd. Given I know about his coup, I expected to meet a man with a sense of personal power, ready to take over the kingdom, but instead, he seems both childish and rebellious.

A spoiled child with a machine gun.

A dangerous fucker.

I can’t get a read on Joe’s feelings on his son. He keeps them very close to his chest. Which I respect. He’s probably hoping that he’ll mature and grow.

I keep going over our conversation. Maybe I should’ve lied and told him I loved Mia, but he wouldn’t have believed me. He’s astute, and I probably gained an ounce of respect by not bothering.

Reality has kicked in, and I know if I want to make progress, joining the family sooner rather than later is my best move.

I’ve demanded his respect. Now it needs to be earned.

“So, when’s the wedding?” Cade asks, shoveling the last of his meal into his mouth, dropping his cutlery onto the plate.

“We haven’t set a date,” Mia says.

“We should. Late July. A summer wedding,” I say, laying my arm along the back of her chair possessively.

“This July?” her aunt Rosa screeches.

Mia whips her face to me. “That’s less than eight weeks away.”

“That’s too early. July?” Silvia cries.

I think it’s perfect. It will keep everyone busy and lock this agreement in place, destroying Cade’s plans. He glares at me from the other end of the table.

I lift my fork to my mouth, meeting his stare.

When I finish my mouthful, I drop my eyes to Mia and add, “We’ll have a wedding planner, sweetheart. You just need to choose your dress. We can fly to Italy if we need to. Whatever you want, you can have.”

Cue the women around the table, clutching their pearls and swooning in Italian as they discuss what her dress should look like.

Mia glares at me momentarily, but the family is on a roll.

Family will need to fly in. The priest will need to be booked. Flowers must be some damn color.

Who will be her bridesmaids?

“Given I’m paying for it, we should discuss the dates and details privately,” Joe says.

“Oh.” Mia’s eyes go wide.

“You’re not paying for a thing,” I state firmly, and the room goes silent.

Even Cade raises a brow, taken aback.

Nobody was privy to our earlier conversation.

I’ve been reasonably quiet, mostly because Mia wants me to fit into her family. Fake or not. Her family is important to her. However, it’s time I set those same boundaries with everyone else.

This is a mafia family, and again, if I want their respect, I need to claim it. They’re like a pack of fucking dogs. If you don’t bark loudly, you’ll find yourself at the bottom of the pecking order.

Or the ocean.

“Mia is my fiancé and my responsibility. We will be paying for our wedding. Buy us a nice gift instead.” I smile dangerously.

Let me translate: I’m far richer than you. Your daughter belongs to me now.

Cade loses his shit and tosses his napkin on his plate. “Are you going to allow this, Father?”

Joe sends a death look down the table at me. “No, I won’t. We will go halves.”

The fact he even offered a compromise makes me want to laugh. It didn’t go unnoticed, as Mia’s aunties nearly break their necks staring between me and Joe. Cade continues ranting, but my attention has shifted to Mia, who has gone quiet.

I glance down at her, and she’s gritting her teeth.

“Mia?”

“Hello. Bride here. Do I have a say?” Mia asks as her eyes move from mine to the rest of the room.

The entire table says no!

Now I’m mad. I take her hand, and she turns angry, upset eyes to mine.

“Would you like to get married here?” I ask, privately. The section is enormous. I could’ve landed the chopper on the front lawn. There’s plenty of room for a marquee and hundreds of guests.

It’s perfect.

But as her eyes begin to glisten, I realize the momentous mistake I just made.

Shit.

“Forget it,” I say, dropping my napkin.

What was I thinking?

This marriage is fake. The last thing Mia wants to do is fulfill some childhood dream of getting married at her family home.

“Do you, Mia?” her father asks, and I flinch.

Crap, I thought I had spoken quieter.

“I need to think about it,” she replies, refusing to look at anyone.

That’s it. I’m taking her out of here.

I stand.

“I accept your offer of paying half, Joe,” I say, only because I want us to leave. “Now, I’m afraid we must be getting back. I have a late-night conference call.”

I don’t.

The only thing I’ll be doing is fucking this gorgeous woman and making up for what I just did.

And planning my next move.