Playing Prey For The Mafia King

The black sedan idled across the street from St. Patrick's Cathedral on Fifth Avenue.

Lila sat in the backseat. The heater was on full blast, but her hands were freezing. She unbuttoned her heavy coat and let it drop to the floorboards.

She wore only the black silk shirt and a pair of tight, faded jeans.

Outside, the New York sky had broken open. The rain was coming down in sheets, flooding the gutters. Pedestrians ran past the car, hiding under umbrellas and newspapers.

Lila pressed a finger to her ear. The wireless earpiece crackled.

"Leo's convoy is two minutes out," Rose's voice said in her ear.

Lila took a deep breath. Her chest expanded against the thin silk. She reached out and pushed the car door open.

She stepped out onto the sidewalk. The freezing rain hit her instantly. It felt like a thousand tiny needles piercing her skin. She gasped, her breath rushing out in a white cloud.

Within seconds, the silk shirt was completely soaked. The fabric clung to her skin like a second layer, turning translucent. The cold made her nipples harden painfully against the wet silk. Her dark hair plastered itself to her cheeks and collarbones.

She crossed the street, wrapping her arms around her torso. She forced herself to shiver violently. She stood near the stone pillars of the cathedral courtyard, looking exactly like a poor, stranded college student caught in a flash flood.

Three black Rolls Royce Phantoms cut through the rain. They pulled smoothly into the VIP drop-off lane right in front of the cathedral steps.

Bodyguards poured out of the first and third cars. They popped open massive black umbrellas, creating a dry tunnel leading up the marble stairs.

The door of the middle Phantom opened.

Leo stepped out. He wore a dark charcoal suit today. His face was a mask of absolute boredom.

Lila timed it perfectly.

She started running toward the cathedral portico, pretending she was just trying to find shelter. She clutched a cheap, worn canvas tote bag to her chest.

As she crossed the edge of Leo's peripheral vision, she let her momentum carry her too fast. Her foot slipped on the slick, rain-washed marble step. She let out a sharp cry.

She went down hard. Her knee slammed into the sharp edge of the marble. The skin tore. A sharp, hot pain shot up her leg, entirely real.

Leo stopped walking. The sound of her cry cut through the noise of the rain. He turned his head and looked down at the steps.

Lila pushed herself up on her hands. The rain washed over her face. She looked up, her eyes wide, wet, and perfectly terrified.

Their eyes locked.

Leo recognized her. She saw the exact second his pupils contracted. It was the girl from the cemetery.

His gaze didn't stay on her face. It dropped. It dragged slowly, deliberately, down her throat, stopping at her chest.

The wet silk hid absolutely nothing. The cold rain and her rapid breathing made the display impossible to ignore. The contrast between her innocent, terrified face and the raw sexuality of her soaked body was jarring.

Leo's throat moved as he swallowed. His eyes darkened, turning entirely black. The boredom was gone. He looked at her the way a starving animal looks at an open wound.

Conrad, the massive bodyguard standing next to Leo, stepped forward. "Boss. You want me to clear her out?"

Leo raised one hand. He didn't look at Conrad. He kept his eyes nailed to Lila.

He took a slow step toward her. His expensive leather shoe splashed into a puddle. The physical dominance radiating from him was suffocating.

Lila knew she couldn't stay. If he touched her now, the game was over.

She scrambled backward. She let out a choked sob, wrapping her arms tightly around her chest to cover herself. She pushed off the ground, ignoring the bleeding scrape on her knee.

She left the cheap canvas bag lying on the wet marble.

She turned and sprinted toward the subway entrance down the block, disappearing into the gray wall of rain.

Leo stood on the steps. He didn't order his men to chase her. He just watched her run.

He looked down at the soaked canvas bag by his feet. A slow, dark smile spread across his face.

"Interesting," he murmured.

He turned and walked into the church.

Down in the subway tunnel, Lila leaned against the dirty tile wall. Water dripped from her hair onto the concrete. She touched her bleeding knee, and a cold, victorious smile touched her lips.