His Mafia Throne

Chapter 2

Aurora

The night felt heavy in Max’s house.

It wasn’t quiet—it was silence. That heavy kind, the kind that makes your heartbeat sound like drums before an execution. And sometimes, I’d hear his footsteps. Slow. Silent. Precise. Like he always knew exactly where he was going.

And me… I was stuck in the middle of a storm he had created.

Why was he doing this to me?

He was my legal guardian. Period. He had a signature on some documents, a court order, and a contract with the law. But beyond that? There was something no one would dare to write down or speak out loud. Between us, there was a simmering fire—one forbidden, but so real it was burning me from the inside.

I felt him tonight.

He’d entered my room without saying a word. Just stood there, watching me from the doorway with those dark eyes that stole the air from my lungs. He didn’t need to speak. His presence was enough. His eyes touched me deeper than any hand ever could.

Then he left. Without a word.

But he left something behind—the air had become thick, heavy. My skin still remembered his gaze, though he never even touched me.

And still… I wanted him.

I sighed and got out of bed. His white shirt was thrown over the chair. I had taken it from the laundry but never gave it back. Not because I forgot. But because I wanted it close. I slipped it on—long, warm, soaked in his scent. Musk, smoke, and something I couldn’t define but made me shiver.

I went downstairs.

I don’t know why. Or maybe I do.

Maybe I wanted to see him. Maybe I wanted to provoke him. Maybe I hoped he’d catch me in the hallway, pin me to the wall and kiss me until I forgot who I was.

But the office door was closed.

I put my hand on the doorknob and stood there for a few seconds, listening. Nothing. Just silence. Maybe he was in there. Maybe he wasn’t. What did it matter? What I felt couldn’t wait anymore. Weeks of accidental touches, of stolen glances, of tension that left me shaking after he walked out of a room.

I backed away—but not to my bedroom.

I went into the kitchen. Poured myself a glass of water, but didn’t drink it. Leaned against the counter, tilted my head back and closed my eyes. I imagined him walking in. Seeing me. Approaching me with those sure steps. Finally giving in.

— You should be asleep, came his voice from behind me.

I froze.

Max was there.

Leaning against the doorframe—just like earlier in my room. His hair messy. His shirt even more unbuttoned now, showing his collarbone and part of his chest. The shadow of a scar. And those eyes. God, those eyes.

— I couldn’t sleep, I whispered.

Max didn’t move.

— Have you been drinking?

I shook my head.

— No. Just water.

— Doesn’t seem like that’s all you want, Aurora.

Silence.

He said my name differently this time. Lower, darker. Like a promise. Like a threat.

— What do you mean?

Max stepped closer. Just a few steps. Enough for me to feel his presence in the air. He smelled of whiskey, tobacco, danger. And Max. My favorite scent.

— You shouldn’t be walking around dressed like that, he said, looking me up and down. You’re alone. Vulnerable.

I smiled, teasing.

— It’s your house. Shouldn’t it be safe?

Max took another step. He was barely a meter from me now. I could reach out and touch his chest.

— That’s exactly why it’s not, he said, and his voice was dead serious.

My breath caught. I looked up at him. In his eyes, there was no control. Just something darker. Wilder. Something closer to the truth he’d been hiding for months.

— Max...

I didn’t get to finish.

He stepped in and gently gripped my chin with two fingers, lifting my head. Forcing me to look at him. His breath warm on my skin.

— You don’t understand, Aurora. I’m not the man who gives you safety. I’m the one you should run from.

— Maybe I don’t want to run, I whispered.

One moment. One second. A blink and it could’ve been a kiss. But Max stepped back. Abruptly. Like he’d been burned.

— Go upstairs, he said sharply. Now.

— I’m not afraid of you, Max.

— You should be.

And just like that—he was gone. Again. Left me there, with my chest pounding, desire burning through my skin, and his cold words carving scars into my soul.

---

Hours later, I was back in my room. Sitting on the floor beside my bed. My knees pulled to my chest, his shirt wrapped around me. I smelled like him. Like pain. Like longing.

I ran my hands over my thighs, trying to quiet the tremors. But it didn’t help. Not even the thought that it was wrong could stop this anymore. Everything in me screamed for him.

My body wanted him. My heart hated him for making me want him.

And maybe that was the worst part: I knew that if he ever truly took me—I’d never be able to go back. I’d be lost. His. Forever.

And all I wanted… was to lose myself in his arms.

Max was the silence in the night and the storm in my veins.

And me… I was ready to burn for him.