THE KILLER THAT CLAIMED (A dark, mafia romance)

The door to my study clicked shut, but I didn't turn around.  I have always known the soft, rhythmic step of Maria, one of the five heads of the domestic staff.  She had worked with me for as long as I could remember and knew any and everyone who went in and out of my estate.  "You asked to see me, Sir" Maria began.  "The princess that I brought back. Do you know where she is at the moment?"  I asked even though I already knew the answer. "She's in the garden, sir," Maria said quietly, her voice at a respectable volume as she stood behind me. "Madam Regina is with her."  "How is she adjusting?" I asked.  I kept my eyes on the horizon, the cigar between my fingers smoldering.  "She's quiet. She eats very little, though we try to tempt her with the things she may like. I believe that her appetite will change in time." "And what else should I know?" "She spends most of her time at the piano or staring at the walls." Maria paused, her voice cautious. "She's very silent and isolated, Mr. Valak."  I did not expect anything else. Especially since I had isolated her myself. "Has she asked about anything? Has she... has she asked for me?"  The silence that followed was a second too long. Why did I care if she asked about me?  "No, sir," Maria replied softly. "She hasn't asked for anyone."  I felt a strange, sharp pang of something I didn't want to name. It shouldn't have mattered. She was a captive not some honorary guest.  I had killed her husband and upended her world; it was a ridiculous thing to expect her to seek me out.  And yet, the confirmation felt like a cold weight settling in my chest. "I see," I said, my voice dropping an octave. I flicked a stray ash into the air. "Anyway," I continued, trying not to sound bothered, "Make sure she is well taken care of. Anything she wants, she gets. Don't let her lack for anything." "Yes, Mr Valak" "You're dismissed." "Yes, sir." The door closed behind Maria as she left, leaving me alone with the silence of the room.  I turned my focus back to the window. The smoke from my cigar curled toward the ceiling, a gray shroud that matched the haze that settled in the back of my mind.  I stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows of my study, the glass cold against my forehead as I looked down at the sprawling gardens of the estate. From this height, the world looked orderly and under my control. Exactly the way I liked it.  Until my gaze found the bright, pale skin covered in purple moving near the rose hedges.  Amaya. She was walking beside Regina, her movements hesitant, like a bird that wasn't sure if the cage door was actually open. Even from three stories up, I could see the way she flinched when a guard walked too close.  I could see the fragile line of her neck and the way the wind caught that perfect dark hair I hadn't been able to stop thinking about for weeks.  I took a long drag of the cigar, the heat burning my throat. Why was I standing here like some desperate stalker? Why did I care if she ate? Why did I find myself checking the security feeds just to make sure she was sleeping? I am Bane Valak. I had dismantled empires and executed men without a flicker of hesitation.  I was the apex predator in a city filled with wolves.  And yet, I found myself paralyzed by the sight of a twenty-five-year-old girl who looked like she'd break if I breathed on her too hard. It was supposed to be simple. Amaya Vancouver was a spoil of war. In our world, when you kill a king, you take his crown, his land, and his women. Taking Raul's brand-new bride as my concubine was intended to be the ultimate spit to his memory. The ultimate, final, crushing blow that I could ever deliver. She was meant to be a trophy. A body to use and discard until the message was sent. And yet, every time I stood in the same room as her, my hands stayed at my sides.  I couldn't bring myself to touch her.  Not because I didn't want to, God, the hunger was a constant, roar in my loins. I wanted nothing else. But there was something about the raw terror in her eyes that stopped me.  It made me feel like a common street rapist. I didn't want to be seen as someone like that. Not even by my prisoner.  I wanted something else. Something darker.  I wanted her to look at me without the shaking. I wanted her to recognize that I was the only one who could make her feel things she never imagined possible.  I knew she hated me.  I could taste it in the air during those long, silent piano sessions. She saw me as the man who murdered her husband and stole her freedom.  She wasn't wrong but I didn't care much. I was simply content with having her in my orbit. As long as she was within these walls, she was mine.  A sharp knock at the door broke my train of thought. I didn't turn around.  I already knew he was on his way. "Enter." The heavy doors groaned open and then clicked shut. The air in the room shifted, growing heavier with the presence of another soldier...... the heir to the Valak empire.  I finally turned away from the window and Amaya's distant figure and turned around. He stood in the center of the room, looking like a younger reflection of myself.  He was sharp, lethal, imposing and burdened by the weight of our name. A true Valak in every sense of the word.  "Uncle," Nathaniel said, his voice level and respectful. "You asked to see me."