Ravenous Kingpin (Kingpins of the Syndicate #4)

19. Killian

CHAPTER 19

Killian

S ecret husband , I scoffed to myself.

Fuck if I would hide my wife from the world. I wanted to shout it from the rooftops, put it in every fucking paper, and post on every social media available. She was off-limits now.

I might have been a sneaky bastard, but I wasn’t going to let this woman slip through my fingers again. I warned her if she tried to run, I’d go back on my word. She ran, so I forced her hand, feeding her family the news of our nuptials through different sources.

The marriage sealed her fate and my own.

Emory was my wife. Fucking mine.

A dark sense of obsession took hold of me, urging me to rip off that dress and sink inside her tight heat, right here and now in this car. It took all my self-control to stop such thoughts and wait until we arrived at my manor. Emory was now bound to me for life for as long as we both shall live, and I fully intended to consummate our marriage tonight.

I’d been planning it for weeks on end, and all in all, today was a success.

My gaze darted to Emory. The dress was a perfect fit, enhancing her elegance and drawing my thoughts back to that fateful night all those years ago.

She hadn’t said a word since we drove away from the church. Maybe she was coming to terms with everything. Though something made me doubt that she’d ever accept being cornered so easily.

But she’d have to get used to it; she’d become a target and gotten involved in human trafficking for some reason.

So now, she was under my protection. There was no fucking way anyone was taking her away from me.

“Where are we going?” she asked as the car came to a stop, eyeing the helicopter I had on standby.

“Home.”

She stiffened. “Home is Las Vegas.”

I smiled. “Maybe, but home is also New York.”

As soon as we stepped outside, I slid my jacket off my shoulders and onto hers. The material swallowed her small frame, and I assisted her as she climbed into the chopper. I took a seat beside her and handed her a headset.

She put it on without delay, blocking out the noise.

“As my wife, you’ll live in my house,” I said, knowing she could hear me perfectly.

Her hands balled into fists. “As I told you, I?—”

“You can run Vegas from here.”

Her sharp glare cut to me like a knife. “Do you have a problem with my position in the Syndicate?”

“Not at all,” I told her calmly. “But until I am certain you’re safe, you’re not going back there.”

She scoffed. “And you think I’ll be safe at your house?”

“Yes. It’s better secured than yours and nobody knows its location.”

Her lips pursed as if she was about to argue but then thought better of it.

“You’re insufferable,” she spat out, her eyes flashing. “I want to murder you.”

I chuckled softly, shifting in my seat to adjust my stiffening cock. “You can smother me with your pussy. It’d be a great way to go.”

She rolled her eyes, but the subtle flush of her cheeks didn’t escape me. “I need my things from the hotel. And some of my things from Vegas.”

“I’ll have them collected. Just give me a list.”

“Why can’t I get them myself?”

“Because I’m not giving you a chance to bolt.”

She turned her head and stared at the tall buildings as we flew over them. It was about twenty minutes before the cityscape disappeared and a dark lake glimmering in the moonlight appeared. We’d made it my place that nobody knew about.

Her lips parted as we began our descent, her eyes locked on the warm lights and tall pines surrounding my manor. I could pretty much see the moment she realized there was no escaping this fortress. All fifty acres were heavily guarded by ex-military men.

There would be no escaping me.

My beautiful wife glided into the foyer, still wearing her wedding dress that I couldn’t wait to peel off her body. It’d be a shame to ruin it by ripping it off, although I was tempted.

Unable to resist her a second longer, I bent to kiss her slim, inviting neck.

“Could I have a moment to freshen myself up before we move on to this part?” she breathed, turning her head to lock eyes with me and shooting me a blinding smile. Maybe she was just as eager to consummate this marriage.

“Of course.”

“Thank you so much, hubby,” she cooed. She peppered the kisses over my jaw, and I froze, not expecting the soft, intimate gesture. “Where’s our bedroom?”

“Up the stairs to the right. It’s the last door on the left.”

“Give me ten minutes.” With one last kiss, she turned away from me, swaying her hips seductively, and fuck if I wasn’t ready to stalk after her. But I promised her ten minutes, so I glanced at my watch and started the countdown.

Ten minutes on the dot, I climbed the stairs two at a time and made my way into my bedroom suite, where I found my wife still dressed and looking smug.

She fixed me with a sly smirk. “Right on time.”

I closed the distance between us and kissed her roughly, forcing my tongue into her mouth. Prickles broke over my skin, but I chalked it up to excitement. When my skin started to itch, I pulled away.

My eyes traveled around the room, and it was only then that I noticed candles flickering everywhere. Looking her way, the sly gleam in her eyes finally made sense. She knew exactly what she was doing when she put those candles all over this room.

That fucking?—

“Where in the fuck did you get these?” I barked.

She shrugged, strolling around casually. “Your pantry. Apparently someone on your staff likes to woo women, unlike someone else I know, and snuck some candles in.” She chuckled. “There’s always one rebel that sneaks forbidden shit in.”

Whoever it was, they were dead.

Running my fingers through my hair, I counted to ten, praying for patience, every inch of my skin burning like I’d just walked through fire. I knew exactly how Emory knew I was allergic to soy candles, but it was a little late to retract that little piece of information. The dumb younger version of me obviously shared too much with Emory.

I took a step forward, an angry growl piercing the air. This wasn’t how I imagined my first night with her. Hell, this was straight out of my worst nightmare.

Then the woman blew me a kiss and fucking skipped her way into the bathroom.

My eyebrows shot up to my hairline before I masked my slipup, my chest burning with a rare emotion.

I went around the room and extinguished every single candle while contemplating firing my staff for keeping the damned things around in the first place.

I stepped out onto the balcony and homed in on two guards roaming the grounds. “Get these fucking candles off my property,” I barked. “And get that fucking Casanova obsessed with candles off my property before I shoot him.”

They scrambled to attention and I returned inside, slamming the French doors closed. I reached into my bedside table and tucked a pair of handcuffs into my pocket, then inched toward the bathroom door. Emory was running a bath, and for a moment, I watched her twirl around like she was some kind of Disney princess.

She startled when I slammed the door shut and twisted the lock. Leaning my shoulder against it and ignoring my itching skin, I crossed my arms.

“Shouldn’t you be seeing a doctor,” she mocked with a hand on her hip. “You look like shit.”

Lazily dragging my gaze down her slim figure, I drawled, “Nah, I’m good. And I’m in the mood for fucking, not doctors.”

“Sorry. Not an option.” She finished letting her dark curls loose and flipped them over her shoulder. “That rash looks like a fire erupted all over your skin. Looks painful.”

I clenched my teeth at the sound of her triumphant voice, but when I glanced her way, her body told a different story. Rosy cheeks, flushed skin, her fingers gripping the silk of her dress.

Her plan backfired , I thought smugly. Time to teach her a lesson .

She sucked in a sharp breath when I stepped forward and spun her around. Her hands dropped down her body, our gazes locking in the reflection of the mirror.

Gaze widening, she rasped, “What are you doing?”

I raised one eyebrow amusedly, then answered in a sarcastic tone, “Helping you, of course.”

Curiosity flashed in her dark eyes as I began unbuttoning her dress, one silky button at a time, until it pooled around her feet. I grinned viciously, finding her inner thighs slick with her arousal, then grabbed her throat and kissed her deeply.

With her body pliant as I devoured her mouth, I reached for the handcuffs in my pocket and snapped one cuff around her wrist and the other on the vanity handle.

“What—”

“Time to teach my bride her first lesson,” I said in a guttural tone.