The Darkest King: The Dark Kings of NYC, #1

By Juliette N Banks

The Dark Kings are the best combination of alpha heroes and romantic suspense. Each book is a roller coaster ride of emotion, danger and sizzling, sexy fun. - Carly Phillips, NY Times bestselling author.

 

Will he avenge his family or acknowledge the woman he loves is no longer his enemy?

Fifteen years ago, the mafia murdered my family. I'm Connor Barrett - the most powerful man in NYC. I fund politicians, sleep with beautiful women and my enemies don't know I exist. Yet.

I've been single-minded in my revenge until a woman with sinful curves pours a drink down the front of my Armani tux. When I learn her surname and discover she is a mafia princess, I have a decision to make. Use her or toss her.
But I'm not keeping her.

When I agree to become her fake fiancé to get close to her father – my enemy – the last thing I expected was to find myself saving Mia's life.

The Darkest King is the first book in The Dark Kings of NYC, a billionaire mafia romance. If you enjoy dark spicy romances with twists, battling mafia families, and dominant, protective heroes, then you'll love this love story with a happy ever after.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Juliette Banks
• Release date: May 20, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215961537

Book preview

COPYRIGHT

Copyright © 2023 by Juliette N. Banks. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a review.

This book is a work of fiction and imagination. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely one of coincidence. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products and music referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication and/or use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

Author: Juliette N. Banks

Editor:  Lyndsey Smith, Cozy Nook Editing

Cover design by: EmCat Designs

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Juliette is an indie romance author who has taken the romance genre by storm with her popular bestselling series The Moretti Blood Brothers and The Dufort Dynasty.

Juliette has a vast background in consumer marketing and was previously published by Random House. She lives in Auckland, New Zealand, with Tilly, her Mainecoon kitty, and all her book boyfriends.

Official Juliette N. Banks website:

www.juliettebanks.com

Instagram:

www.instagram.com/juliettebanksauthor

Facebook:

www.facebook.com/juliettenbanks

www.facebook.com/groups/authorjuliettebanksreaders

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1

______________

CONNOR

Shape Description automatically generated with low confidence

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Here we fucking go again.

Another gala event. Another speech. Another night spent with strangers who schmooze me for my money and power.

It’s all part of the charade I’m playing, I remind myself, tugging on the sleeve of my Armani jacket and adjusting my cufflinks before leaning back into the soft leather seats of my limousine. Nothing to prepare. My finance manager arranged the transfer of funds this afternoon, and my scriptwriter emailed me the same cut-and-paste version of the speech I’ve already given at least five times this year.

Only the name changes, with a modified reason why the cause is so important to Barrett Enterprises.

Except this one is important to me...personally.

The We Are Family Foundation is committed to the care of orphans in the U.S. and around the world—a cause I deem important. No one should be alone because they don’t have parents or a family.

There are eight fucking billion people on the planet. Few of them with the sort of money I have to contribute, to make a difference. Still, I’d rather have sent a check and sat at home, sipping on my Macallan Gold, watching porn, and jacking off.

Or rather, ordering in.

I don’t mean Chinese food.

Truth is, I don’t watch porn. I have no need for it. If I want a woman spread before me, I can have one at any time.

I’m Connor Barrett, one of the wealthiest and most powerful men in New York City.

Yet, I’m not who I say I am.

I’m both a ghost and, ironically, one of the most visible men in America. Why hide in the shadows when you can hide out in the open? The opposite of what they trained me to do in the marines.

Even more ironic—I have skilled security protecting me, which even they know is unnecessary. I’m six foot four, broad and muscular. And I’ve been trained to kill.

I have killed.

Still, I can’t look over my shoulder while running a billion-dollar empire, doing deals with politicians and untrustworthy businessmen who would love nothing more than to see me fail.

That happens when people owe you favors. They know I’ll come knocking, and when I do, they won’t say no.

No one says no.

I’m the founder and CEO of Barrett Enterprises. Entrepreneur, philanthropist, investor, and prolific businessman.

Men want to destroy me.

Women want to fuck me.

I reach for the crystal cut glass filled with whiskey in the console beside me and bring it to my lips, remembering the last woman who slid down my black silk sheets and wrapped her red-stained mouth around my cock.

God, I could do with round two.

It’s been weeks since I’ve had a good release without using my fist. I should’ve booked someone for this evening, but I didn’t think ahead. 

Booked? Yes. They’re not prostitutes—I’m paying for their discretion. I’m paying for control.

Something I never give away.

But I’m careful about the women I fuck. By the time they enter my penthouse, they’ve accepted payment and signed a confidentiality agreement—one no lawyer would ever let their client sign—which demands their silence and agreement to the terms of our time together.

One, should they break, that would destroy their lives.

So, not prostitutes, but they are escorts.

They’re instructed to undress and blindfold themselves in my private elevator. I’m not fucking Batman—everyone in NYC knows my address—but it just sets the scene. One which makes it clear why they are here, and that intimacy is not welcome.

I’m not looking for a wife.

I need to stay a ghost.

If my enemies knew I was alive, I would be hunted.

The last words my father said to me...Never tell anyone who you are, son. Run!

The familiar grinding of my teeth, the pain slicing up the back of my neck from my fury, brings me back to the present, and I blink. I stretch one of my legs and check that the knife strapped just above my sock remains invisible. Just as all the other weapons on my body are.

I don’t leave home without them.

We’re going to be a few minutes late, sir, Benson, my driver, says. I pulled him out of the military a few years ago. He knows how to scan for bombs, drive if we’re attacked, and protect both of us if shit goes down. The traffic was built up near Madison Square Gardens.

I’m silent, my body tensing, and my eyes slide over to Mack.

As if on cue, Mack Turner, my head of security, turns from the passenger seat and gives me a reassuring look. It’s an accident, Mr. Barrett. Turn up here, Benson. Then take 27th Street.

My body relaxes.

Mack is one of three men I trust with my life. He’s by my side ninety percent of the time.

Not when I fuck.

That’s not my kink.

While the We Are Family Foundation is important to me, I don’t give a damn about being on time—I’m the VIP guest, and they’ll wait for me. However, when you’re hiding in broad daylight from the mafia—that’s correct, all the mobsters and cartels—and are as powerful as I am, it would only take two minutes to go from being the hunter to the hunted.

Because I am hunting them.

They just don’t fucking know it.

Glancing at my Rolex, I note I’m ten minutes late. I run my hand over my solid jaw, rubbing my dark scruff. I need to fuck. I’ve been agitated and impatient recently. As a dominant and controlling lover, the act helps me release built-up energy.

I nearly snort at the word love. There’s no love in my life.

Keep the car close when we arrive, Benson, I say darkly. I’m only staying an hour.

Yes, sir.

When the limo pulls up outside the Convention Center, I wait for Mack to open the door, then I climb out and stand, running my hands over my Armani tux and glancing around.

The red carpet is empty. Everyone inside is waiting for me.

In and out. That’s the plan.

Give Billy the night off tomorrow, I say to Mack without looking his way. When I take a few steps and he hasn’t responded, I turn.

My dark eyes connect with his.

You need a new location. It’s not safe, Connor, Mack replies.

I nod.

He’s not disagreeing with me. No one would. He’ll have his reasons, and I trust him.

Arrange it, I say, then step into the hotel lobby. The sign for the event points to the large conference rooms in the back.

To be honest, I’m surprised someone from the company organizing the event is not greeting me. I was told they would. But it’s one less annoying person on this planet to deal with, so I couldn’t care less.

I make my way through the space and find the room and the main door. As I reach for it, it flings open.

Ommph.

Oh, shit! the small body who just slammed into me whisper-yells, and the door closes behind her with a click.

Then I feel it...

Wet, cold, and seeping through the front of my tuxedo.

As I grip the petite brunette’s arms and remove her from my chest, her eyes fly open wide, and I can’t ignore the magnetic pull from the crystal blue globes.

Jesus, she’s fucking gorgeous.

My cock wakes up and begins to swell. I imagine gripping all that long dark hair and wrapping it around my fist. Then, as panic fills her eyes, I’m tempted to smirk. But I never smile, and my hands, which have released her, want to touch her again, and that bothers me.

Who is this young woman?

Connor Barrett, she gasps quietly, knowing who I am. Her eyes drift down over the dark liquid on my shirt, and she bites her lip, letting out a soft curse. Then those lids dip further down my body.

Don’t look any lower, sweetheart, or...

Too late.

Her eyes shoot back to mine, and I say in a dark, thick voice, You shouldn’t have done that.

As she swallows, my lips curl up at the corners.

Tonight just got a whole lot more interesting.

2

______________

MIA

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Oh God! Donna is going to kill me. She’ll have to hurry, as Connor Barrett looks like he’s two steps ahead of her.

Then he smirks at me.

Holy fuck.

Connor Barrett doesn’t smile. He was on the cover of Forbes once, and it was obvious the photographer had asked him to smile, but Connor just looked like he was snarling.

His smirk is different, and it just lights my panties on fire.  

I stare up at those lopsided lips, square jaw, and deep chocolate eyes—full of thoughts I’m sure most women would give anything to experience—and realize Connor Barrett is a sex god.

Damn.

Until this week, I never thought I’d be standing in front of the dark-haired and ridiculously handsome man. When Donna asked who wanted to greet the billionaire when he arrived, all the girls on the team turned into something resembling a teen reality show.

I sighed and said I would do it.

Thank you, Mia, Donna, my manager, had said. I’m sure he won’t bite.

Staring into his eyes, I’m pretty sure he does, and although I’m not in the market for a one-night stand, I think I’d be very okay with him biting me.

Anywhere.

Powerful men don’t scare me. Okay, they do scare me, but just the right amount, according to the situation.

This isn’t one of them.

Mr. Sex-God Barrett isn’t a threat to me.

My panties? Oh yes.

I’ve grown up around much more dangerous men than Connor, and all of them would give their lives to save me. Or rather, save themselves.

My name is Mia Mancini. Daughter of Joseph, or Joe The Rock, Mancini, head of the Italian mafia here in the United States. He’s one of seven bosses affiliated with the global Italian mafia.

In other words, he’s a big deal.

And yes, that makes me the mafia princess.

Unfortunately.

I’d rather be just an everyday girl, working and paying my taxes, dating and shopping at Walmart. Which I do, but it’s a farce and very, very temporary.

When I left college two years ago, Father agreed, after a lot of crying and screaming, to let me go out into the world and get some work experience. My mother had died a few years earlier, and I played the card hard. You have to do what you can in the gangster world to survive. I might not like the world I grew up in, but I learned a thing or two.

I have my own apartment, a job at Bloom Events Management, friends...and no one knows who I am.

Not even Donna.

I’m just Mia.

Mia Mancini...but it’s a common enough name.

Joe, my father, gave me two years, then I must return and work in the family—a.k.a. gangster—business. Or, and get this, I can marry and he will give me my trust fund.

A trust fund worth two million dollars.

Twenty-four years old and I have barely dated. I’m not a virgin, but dating the head of the mafia’s daughter isn’t on the top of any man’s to-do list.

There’s more.

It’s likely the man I marry will be chosen by my family. Or rather, Joe. If there is a partnership to be made that benefits the family, it is expected of me. My mother primed me to be prepared, but it’s not a given.

However, I have been kept out of the media’s eyes and protected because of who I am.

A mafia asset.

But I have different plans. I love my family, but I don’t want any part in the business they are involved with. Yes, it pays for my apartment and financed my education. I’ve not had the freedom of choice to do anything differently.

But that ends now.

When I marry, it will be for love.

I’m working toward freedom and independence. Or at the very least, not being involved with the soul-destroying business my family profits from.

I just haven’t figured out how yet.

In around two weeks, this bubble I’ve been living in for nearly two years is about to burst, so my plan is to renegotiate with my father for more time.

I’m confident.

So, this mafia princess has some experience being around large and intimidating men. Just about every single one of my father’s soldiers has run their eyes over my body and shown me they desire me.

I’ve slept with a few of my bodyguards—sorry, Papa—and enjoyed their broad chests and height compared to my petite frame, the dominant way they took me.

But the hunger I feel staring up into the rich brown eyes of Connor Barrett is beyond any type of arousal a man has elicited from me before in my life.

My hands are clammy, and my throat nearly clunks as I swallow. Worse, it feels like my core is throbbing so loud the entire room can hear.

I can see in his eyes that dark knowing sparkle—he is enjoying the way he’s affecting me. Connor’s well aware of what he’s doing.

I can smell whiskey on his breath, he’s standing so close. Or maybe it’s the bourbon I just poured down his tuxedo. All I want him to do is kiss me.

Irrational.

But I do.

Just one mind-blowing, wild kiss, then I can carry on with my life.

I think the word you’re looking for is ‘sorry,’ Connor says slowly, darkly.

You assume I can form words right now, sir.

I cannot.

I’m also quite sure my panties are just as wet as his tux, so it feels like an equal swap, but I don’t say that, of course. Instead, I do something even stupider. I run my hands over his jacket and shirt, feeling solid, ripped muscles as I go, and attempt to wipe the bourbon away.

Oh God, I’m insane.

Mr. Barrett, I’m so sorry, I say as I keep touching him. Then he grabs my wrists and I freeze, drawing in a breath.

Are you planning to brush the stain off? Connor raises a single brow at me.

He’s amused, but there’s no hiding the desire, the lust, the wanting, written all over his face. I’m surprised he’s not trying to hide it.

I find myself unable to look away.

A man standing several feet behind him lets out a quiet snort. My eyes dart to the man, and I’m suddenly embarrassed.

Connor smirks wider, and my shame turns to anger.

Does he think he can intimidate me with his size and money?

Wrong girl, buddy.

No, of course not. I take a step away, and his hands begin to release my wrists, but not before they tighten for a moment. My body flares at the dominance.

God, I bet he’s an incredible lover.

Too bad I’ll never get to find out.

Connor watches me intently, and when I run my tongue over my lips—unintentionally, I might add—his eyes narrow darkly. I simply blink back. He tips his head an inch, curious why I’m not intimidated.

Keep wondering, Mr. Barrett. You won’t guess.

However, I am impacted by his powerful height and size and the chemistry flowing between us. I want his hands back on me. I also want to run. Not from fear, but from the enormous amount of desire running through my body. It has the power to overwhelm me.  

None of which matters because, despite this moment between us, I am Mia, the events coordinator, and Connor is a powerful billionaire desired by millions of women around the world.

I shake off my attraction—fail—and take in the golden stain on the front of his white shirt.

Damn, it’s bad.

My job is important to me, and Donna is inside the conference, waiting for me to bring our VIP speaker—Connor Barrett—through to go on stage.

Like, now.

There might only be two weeks of my freedom left—or more—but I don’t want to lose my job.

I bite my lip.

How the hell am I going to fix this?

We have contingencies for a lot of things, but destroying the guest speaker’s designer tux is not one of them.

I—

Donna pushes through the door behind me, interrupting us.

Mia, what...Oh, Mr. Barrett. She clears her throat. Then she glances at me in question.

Fuck.

There’s been an accident, I say, stating the obvious. My hands clench in front, and I hate how they give away my nerves.

Connor’s eyes move from my hands and over to Donna, taking in the dynamics between us. He thinks I’m concerned about losing my job, and he’s right, even though it’s incredibly unlikely. His eyes drift across my face and meet mine.

I can barely breathe.

The ball is in his court, and he knows it. He needs to react. Is Connor going to go all prima donna on us, or brush it off?

A dangerous glint sends an icy chill down my spine.

Please don’t, I want to say, but I will never beg. Whether I like it or not, I’m a mafia princess, and I know my worth and power.

I will never bow to any man.

Not even Connor Barrett.

Oh. Donna gasps, noticing the stain and breaking the tension. We have some spare white shirts in the back, but I doubt we will have one in your size. I’m so sorry about this. Mia, can you—

There’s no need. Connor turns to the man behind him, who nods. In just under a minute, he’s back and handing the billionaire a fresh new shirt. Connor thanks the man and then...begins to undress.

In front of us.

Thanks, Mack, Connor says.

Donna and I stand there with our mouths open while he removes his jacket and shirt, baring his chest.

Sweet baby Jesus.

I was right. He’s ripped, with those thick juicy pecs you just want to lick. His arms—holy mother of mercy—are smooth and powerful. But it’s Connor’s tattoos, hidden under his corporate attire, which surprise me.

They appear tribal.

I’m not an expert on ink, despite it being on every man in my family—and I have one of my own—but what I do know is whether they look hot or not.

And it absolutely is.

This dark swirly piece of art covers one of his pecs, and I spot another poking from the waistband of his pants. I want to nudge his pants down to see the rest.

He lifts his eyes, as if he can read my mind, and heat flares between us. I literally feel my cheeks warming.

Crap.

I know my nipples are hard, so I cross my arms over my black Bloom Events Management T-shirt and admit this man has tilted me off my axis.

I do not like it.

I need to remain professional and gain some control.

I’m sorry, Mr. Barrett. That was clumsy of me,