Creighton King was the epitome of emotionless, by choice.

He had brunette, unkept hair and eyes that sucked an individual in whole without leaving them room to breathe. His aura was intimidating and demanded authority without uttering a singular word.

Now, he stands in the shadows of a Mafia Princess, who wouldn’t leave him alone even though he had brushed her advances on him off.

If someone questioned why he had landed on her balcony instead of another while attempting arson at her brother, Jeremy’s, mansion, he couldn’t have answered you.

Creigh stills as he notices the female arise from her beauty sleep and make her way across to him, he was positive that she couldn’t see him in the dark.

Suddenly, he clasps his hand over the females mouth as the guard outside askes if she’s okay and she replies with an excuse. Slowly, his fingers wrap around the females jaw not in a threatening manner but power simmers underneath the gesture.

Softly, his fingers gently rub against the females bottom lip and a rich voice comes out. “You talk too much. One day, this mouth will get you into trouble.”