Page 1 of The Mafia Bachelor

1

KILLIAN

I stab the blade repeatedly into the chest of my enemy, then sigh as I step backwards.

Nope, that didn’t do the trick.

After cleaning off my favourite knife, the movements over the steel so familiar, and usually soothing, I pick up a gun and load it. The man before me is already dead from the dozens of stab wounds, and blood drips onto the plastic with a steady beat. I know you’re not supposed to take out your life-frustrations at work, but this is exceptional circumstances.

And nothing is calming the headache developing behind my eyes or the crackling anger and despondency in my chest.

I shoot him in the head, and watch as splatter coats the floor, spilling off the edge of the plastic sheeting.

I wait to feel better.

Damn.

Not today.

And now, not only is there a mess on the carpet, but my chief of enforcement will get that hurt puppy look because I disposed of this prick alone rather than letting him do his job. Plus, the entire building has heard my bad mood.

There’s a knock on my office door.

“The answer is no,” I snap. I have one more hour, and I don’t intend to share it.

“Ah, in that case, the question is, are you sure you want this to happen?” It’s the Irish accent of Brandon, my second-in-command.

Feck. He wouldn’t be interrupting me without good reason. Not another problem with the Essex Cartel. Surely god wouldn’t give me that today, as well as my mother and her farce of a plan?

“Enter.”

Brandon’s expression as he opens the door is apologetic. “Your dad⁠—”

He’s cut off by the obnoxious ringtone I’ve designated for my mother. It’s shrill. Ear-splitting.

She hates it.

Slamming the weapon onto my desk, I pick up my phone and lower myself into the big leather chair.

“Mam,” I answer and wave to Brandon to make himself comfortable. He glances at the dead body in one of the two seats, then wipes the blood from the other chair before sitting.

“Your father has gone, Killian.” Her voice is tense, and her American accent is even stronger than usual. She’s stressed. “We have to find him, and quickly.”

My heart sinks. I don’t say what we’re both thinking. His mind is wandering, and a kingpin who can’t remember he’s retired is a liability. Especially given we have guests.

Sensitive guests.

Female guests.

“I don’t want him meeting any of the brides before the welcome ceremony.”

“I can’t marry them all,” I snipe back. “And I should think they know what they’ll be getting into.”

“One winner only, but they mustn’t get the wrong idea if your father⁠—”

“I’ll sort it, Mam. He’ll be there for the start of your horse race.”

“They are not horses, they’re potential wives. And I heard a gunshot⁠—”