His Mafia Throne

Chapter 4

Max

Office. 2:13 AM.

The door closed behind her.

No hurry. No fear. Just quiet footsteps fading up the stairs, leaving behind a silence that screamed too loudly.

I stood still for several seconds, eyes locked on nothing. That silence wasn't peace. It was a sentence. Every second she wasn’t here anymore felt like punishment I deserved.

I took a deep breath.

The mistake was done. Or… what others would call a mistake.

To me, it was the inevitable. The moment when instinct finally won the war I’d been fighting for months. Maybe years. I had lied to myself, telling myself I was protecting her. But the truth was filthier. I kept her close like a predator who refused to let its prey escape. And tonight… I got tired of watching and did what I always wanted.

I slammed my fist on the edge of the desk. The wood cracked slightly. I didn’t care. Order in my life had already started falling apart.

I grabbed my coat from the back of the chair, but I couldn’t put it on. It smelled like her. Jasmine and something sweet — maybe vanilla. A scent that haunted me ever since I brought her into this house. She didn’t even truly belong to me, yet she lived among my things, breathed my air, walked the corridors of my thoughts more than I ever wanted to admit.

I walked toward the bar in the corner of the office. Opened the bottle of expensive whiskey. No ice. I drank straight from it, like it could burn the memory of her out of me. It didn’t.

I sat down hard, leaning back in the chair. The ceiling was quiet, but my mind was screaming. I saw her again — on my desk, her cheeks flushed, lips parted and wet. Her eyes closed, my name falling from her mouth like a prayer. It drove me insane.

And all I felt now was guilt.

What have I done to her? What have I made her believe? Was it just one night for her? Or did it confirm everything she’s been feeling but didn’t know how to name?

Aurora… she’s dangerously innocent. Does she love me? Or is she just addicted to the man who kept her safe? Does she even know the difference?

I do.

I know exactly what I feel.

I love her in a way that’s wrong. Obsessive. Painful. Filled with self-loathing.

I want to give her everything, and in the same breath — push her as far away from me as possible. I want to kiss her until she forgets who she is. And I also want to beg her to run. As far and fast as she can.

I took a deep breath and opened the bottom drawer of my desk. My gun was there. Cold. Heavy. Familiar. A piece of me, more than anyone else ever was. I stared at it.

I didn’t think of death.

Not my own.

But of the day my world might cost her.

Because if it ever comes to that — I’ll burn the world before I let it touch her.

And that terrifies me.

I closed the drawer with a harsh thud and stood up fast. My steps were heavy on the wooden floor, and I wasn’t sure where I was going. I opened the window wide, even though the night was freezing. The wind slapped my skin, and I let it. I deserved worse.

I leaned on the window frame, staring at the city. Lights shimmered in the distance like a heart beating too fast. The streets were asleep. I wasn't allowed to sleep.

I wondered if she was crying. If she was confused. If she lay in that bed upstairs — the one I made sure was safe, warm, untouched by danger — and now stained by my hands.

Do I deserve her?

No.

Will I have her again?

Yes.

Because now that I’ve tasted her…

There’s no going back.

Now I know what her mouth feels like saying my name. What her skin feels like shaking under my touch.

Now I want it again.

And again.

And still… I want to forget her.

I want her to live the life she deserves.

One without blood. Without men like me. Without nights in offices where dreams die and sins are born.

But I am her sin.

And she... is my temptation.

And maybe… maybe that’s what will destroy us both.