The Mafia King Took Me From His Uncle

Good friends… we meet again. ❤️

Ian’s story is finally here, and I honestly can’t wait for you all to join me on this journey.

First of all, if you read the previous book in this series, you’ll remember that although I mentioned once or twice that Ian hardly spoke, but he did speak. After spending more time with his character, I decided to lean fully into that part of his personality because it simply felt right. A lot happened in Ian’s life that shaped him into the man you’ll meet in this book, and I promise every bit of it will make sense as his story unfolds.

I have a feeling you’ll be just like Kimora—determined to figure him out, frustrated by him, intrigued by him, and maybe even a little obsessed with him.

So come with me as we begin Ian and Kimora’s story. I truly believe this is my most dramatic, funniest, and most chaotic book yet, and I can’t wait to experience every twist with you.

As always, thank you for reading, commenting, adding the book to your libraries, and supporting me. It means more than you know. ❤️

KIMORA

The rain had stopped, leaving the asphalt slick and reflecting the amber glow of the streetlights as I pulled my jacket tighter around myself. I’d just stepped away from Sofia, the lingering warmth of our quick coffee catch-up evaporating the second the heavy glass door of the café swung shut behind me.

I was still smiling over our conversation, taking a breath of the crisp night air as I reached into my purse for my keys. I barely made it halfway down the block toward my car when the world lurched sideways.

A black van cut its engine and coasted up to the curb, its side door sliding open with a sickening, metallic screech. Before I could even draw a single breath, a pair of thick, brutal arms clamped over my chest and face, dragging me roughly  backward off my feet.

"Get your filthy hands off me!" I shrieked, the words tearing raw from my throat as I thrashed wildly against his grip.

I threw my weight backward, slamming my elbow into whatever soft tissue I could reach, my boots scraping helplessly against the wet pavement as I clawed desperately at the massive arms pinned around me. "Help! Somebody help me!"

"Shut her up!" a harsh voice barked from inside the dark car.

"Let me go, you bastards!" I screamed again, twisting my body with every ounce of strength I had left, fighting to break his hold before they could pull me over the threshold.

Sofia is right around the corner. If I can just make enough noise, if someone just looks out a window.

A heavy hand clamped hard over my mouth, cutting off my next scream, and the sickly-sweet, overpowering stench of chemical chloroform slammed straight into my lungs.

No. Don't breathe it in. Hold your breath. Hold it—

Panic flared like wildfire behind my ribs as my chest burned for oxygen. I kicked blindly, my heels slamming into the side of the van, but the fumes were already invading my senses, thick and suffocating.

My limbs grew heavy, dropping like lead weights as the fight was forcefully drained from my muscles. The frantic shouts echoing down the street dimmed to a quiet, distant hollow, my vision rapidly dissolving into dark, terrifying static as the city died around me.

The plastic zip tie cut ruthlessly into my wrists the moment I jerked awake in the backseat of the moving vehicle.

My head throbbed with a dull, sickening ache, the bitter taste of chemical residue coating my tongue as the tires hit a deep pothole, throwing my shoulder hard against the leather interior.

I wasn't in a dark room. We were moving, fast. The steady, hypnotic hum of the highway and the dark blur of dense trees outside the window told me they were taking me far past the city limits.

"I told you the chemical wouldn't keep her down long," a voice grunted from the driver’s seat, glancing back briefly in the rearview mirror.

"Shut up and focus on the road," the man sitting beside me in the back sneered, adjusting his bulky jacket. "The old man is already losing his mind. You want to be the one to tell him we're running behind schedule?"

"The old man's gonna have a complete field day with this one," the driver barked out a sudden, dark laugh, his eyes fixing on me in the glass again. "Look at her through the mirror. She looks like she wants to rip your throat out with her bare teeth."

Panicked, volatile fury surged through my veins, temporarily drowning out the ice-cold dread sitting in the pit of my stomach. "Untie me, you sniveling bastards!" I spat, my voice raw and laced with pure venom as I twisted my bound body around to glare directly into the face of the man beside me. "Do you have any idea what's going to happen to you when my family finds out? Turn this piece-of-trash vehicle around right now, or I swear to God I will personally make sure you spend the rest of your pathetic lives eating through a plastic straw!"

The grimy man in the backseat rolled his eyes lazily, shifting his heavy weight against the seat. "Shut your mouth, girl."

"Make me!" I snapped back, my breath coming in jagged, furious gasps as I leaned into his space. "You think you're terrifying because you can throw a bag over a woman's head in the dark? You're nothing more than a pair of brainless, cheap errand boys, and whoever hired you is going to put a bullet in both your heads just to clean up the mess!"

The driver let out another booming, mocking laugh from the front. "Damn. She's actually got teeth!"

"I said shut the fuck up!" the man beside me roared, his patience snapping.

I didn't back down. Driven by pure survival instinct and mounting terror, I violently lifted both my legs and kicked him square in the chest with every ounce of force I could muster.

He let out a choked curse, stumbling hard against the opposite door before lunging at me with terrifying, blinding speed. He was vastly stronger than me. His massive, calloused hands grabbed my shoulders and shoved me hard back against the side window.

My head cracked hard against the glass, white spots dancing across my vision, but before I could even orient myself, his palm cracked violently across my cheek.

SLAP.

The sheer force of the strike whipped my head to the side, pain exploding across my jaw and cheekbone. Tears instantly gathered in my eyes from the sheer physical sting, my mouth filling with the hot, metallic taste of copper.

"Hey! Back the fuck off her!" the driver barked angrily, his eyes darting wildly to the mirror. "Boss gave strict orders—no marks! He wants her looking presentable when we deliver her, you fucking idiot!"

"I don't give a damn!" the man beside me snarled, breathing heavily as he held me down by my collar, his bruised face inches from mine. "She kicks me like that again, and I'll break her jaw before we hit the state line. Let's see how presentable she is then."

I swallowed the blood pooling in my mouth, forcing my body to freeze, but I refused to let those gathered tears fall. I squeezed my eyes shut against the thumping pain in my skull, my chest heaving against the leather seat.

Sofia. Sofia was the only person in the entire city who would realize I was missing. The only person who would care enough to look for me. My father, my stepmother, Bianca... if they found out I was gone, they wouldn't send help. They would step over my grave if it meant keeping their comfortable, elevated status intact.

The agonizing realization burned deeper than the slap, but I gritted my teeth and refused to let these low-lifes see me break.

I hissed under my breath, my body locked tight, desperately storing away every detail, the rasp of their voices, the foul stench of cheap tobacco, the rhythmic bump of the tires against the road.

The van sped deeper into the pitch-black night, taking me further and further away from anything familiar, into a dark void where nobody was coming to save me.

Then, the world shattered.

A pair of blinding, high-beam headlights flared out of nowhere, slicing through the darkness of the empty two-lane highway with blinding intensity.

Before our driver could even process what was happening, a massive, jet-black SUV surged across the yellow line, slamming its brakes and swinging sideways to completely block both lanes directly in front of us.

"Holy shit—!" the driver screamed, throwing his entire weight onto the brake pedal.

The tires shrieked roughly against the damp asphalt, the acrid stench of burning rubber filling the cabin as our van fishtailed, skidding to a rough, jarring halt barely inches from the dark vehicle’s reinforced steel frame.

The harsh impact threw me hard against the back of the front seats, my zip ties biting deep enough into my wrists to draw blood as both kidnappers  swore, furiously reaching for the handguns tucked into their waistbands.

"Who the hell is that?!" the man beside me hissed, his fingers trembling as he racked the slide of his weapon.

Through the rain-streaked windshield, bathed in the glaring, harsh white light of the high beams, the driver's side door of the black SUV slowly, swung open.

A man stepped out into the middle of the empty, dead highway.

He was towering, broad-shouldered, and clad in an immaculate, dark tailored suit that seemed to absorb the surrounding shadows. He didn't rush. He didn't draw a weapon.

He stood there directly in front of our idling van, his legs parted in a broad, immovable stance, his face carved from pure, unyielding stone beneath the blinding glare of the lights.

The sheer, oppressive silence of his presence cut straight through the engine's roar, radiating an absolute, lethal authority that made the breath catch entirely in my throat.

Who the hell was that?