Say My Name – A Dark Mafia Romance Read Online Jenika Snow

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Dark, Mafia Tags Authors: Jenika Snow Advertisement

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And that’s what was going to happen to my father and Logan. Sooner rather than later, they’d be nothing but memories of a shitty part of my life. And so, I had to get out to save myself because I’d be damned if I allowed anyone to bring me down with them.

I was just pissed that I had waited so long only to come to that realization. But I’d still tried to find happiness amidst an enormous pile of shit.

I stepped into the kitchen and grabbed a glass, turned on the faucet, and filled it up. The water tasted coppery, but it was all I knew and had gotten used to the flavor of blood filling my mouth.

I just stared down at the sink, the basin showing so much age. The faucet only worked half of the time. And the water took a few seconds to turn clear once the water ran.

It only took a second before I felt this tightening on my skin. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end, and I just knew… knew that I wasn’t alone.

I grabbed the dull butcher knife I kept in the top drawer and spun around, my heart already racing as I scanned the small, one room main living area.

At first, I saw nothing, but as my eyes adjusted to my surroundings, I sucked in a quick breath when I saw a large body sitting on the single piece of furniture I owned.

The massive figure was clearly male. He sat in the dark on a chair pressed into the shadowed corner, the darkness shrouding him so I couldn’t clearly make out who he was. He was big, though, wearing all black; the night wrapped around him, as if it were familiar with the type of man he was.

It was only after a moment that I knew who sat in the seat before me, watching me, able to kill me before I even uttered a word.

Matteo.

For long moments, I couldn’t speak, my tongue too thick, my throat too dry and tight. My fingers were curled tightly around the hilt of the knife, painfully so.

I’d never actually hurt someone, never used a weapon for bodily harm ever in my life. And I didn’t know if I could start now, didn’t know if I could plunge this blade into Matteo if he came after me.

But he just sat there watching me, and although I couldn’t make out his expression, I could feel his penetrating gaze locked on me.

I heard thrump-thrump. Thrump-thrump. I looked down to see him tapping his fingers on the arm of the chair. He slowly leaned forward, resting his elbows on his thighs, and a swatch of the muted yellow street light that came through the living room window showed me his face.

My hand shook, my skin slippery from sweat, and before I knew it, the knife fell to the kitchen floor with a clatter.

All I heard was ringing in my ears. I knew without a doubt Matteo had come here to kill me. There was no other explanation why he was sitting in my living room in the middle of the night.

How long had he been here? Why didn’t he kill me while I slept?

You fool. You’ve heard the rumors. He likes the torture. He likes inflicting pain. He probably wants to hear me scream and beg for my life.

I wish I was strong and could say I wouldn’t do any of that. But that was a lie.

“Come here, Liliana.”

I shook my head, and he tsked and leaned forward in the chair, bracing his forearms on his knees and staring at me.

“Ah, sweetheart,” he all but purred. “You’ll come to realize that denying me what I want only makes me harder than fucking steel.”

My throat was tight and dry, and my head rushed with this intoxicating high that terrified me.

“Ora, fai la brava ragazza e vieni qui, cazzo.”

Moisture pooled between my legs despite the fact I didn’t understand a word because he spoke in Italian.

“Now, be my good girl and fucking get over here.”

My heart raced, and the sound of that promise and violence all mixed was like a shot of heroin in my veins.

This man was dangerous. He was dominant. Aggressive.

And here I was, obeying him and moving closer.

When I was only a few feet away, my heart started beating so fast and hard that I wondered if he could hear it, if he could smell the sweat pooling between my breasts and sliding down the length of my spine.

My fight-or-flight instinct was strong, my body screaming that I needed to get far away from the danger.

Yet, my feet stayed cemented in place, my hands curled so tightly my nails dug into my palms painfully.

There was this resolve that settled inside of me. I would not back down.

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