My EX's Mafia Twin

PREFACE I Killian. |Past| 20 years. Katarina Volkov would be my biggest curse. And I knew it from the first second I saw her. Or should I say from the first moment I saw her ass, because that's the first thing I see when I walk into the kitchen. A perfect upturned ass greets me. The owner of said ass is bent over, with half her body inside the fridge as she effusively rummages through it. I furrow my eyebrows, stunned that this is the first time Reid has ever brought anyone home. My twin brother, for one of the most prominent and famous rock singers of the moment, lacks flirting and a reputation as a ladies' man. Other than drinking and partying, I rarely see him hook up with a girl. Honestly, I don't care what he does with his life as long as it doesn't affect mine. Our relationship has never been the best, but lately I feel like it's more strained than ever. His level of fame, the attention he gets from my parents and the ease with which he gets his way is creating bigger gaps between the two of us. Finally, a cheerful little sound escapes from the girl, a little sound that makes my skin crawl with disgust. She turns around with a jar of nutella already open and dips her finger into the cocoa goo to pop it in her mouth. "I have something bigger you can suck on," I tell her. As soon as she sees me, the chocolate effusiveness disappears from her eyes and it's amazing how quickly her gaze cools, looking impenetrable. We have a good actress here. "Are there really two of you?" She says almost disinterestedly, going back to sucking nutella off her finger. "Two of us?" I laugh, her words shocking me and making me even angrier. "I'm one, honey." She clicks her tongue against the roof of her mouth, in a gesture that looks whimsical and rebellious, then shouts in exasperation: "You could have warned me you had a twin, you i***t!" I feel Reid come in behind me, he mumbles a low good morning and grabs something from the fridge as he says: "Killian, Katarina, Katarina, Katarina, Killian." His introduction is sloppy and I'm still standing there, not understanding what the hell is going on. Who is she? And why does her very presence irritate me so much? I roll my eyes and find myself a decent breakfast while the redhead stuffs her chocolate and my brother pours liquor into the orange juice he's starting to drink. It's shaping up to be a good day for me, dealing with a diabetic coma and an alcoholic coma because of the two of them. Whatever, I don't give a s**t. I chew my breakfast as I work on my computer, ignoring the girl's talk with Reid. I wonder if they slept together, but dismiss that idea as I move to the couch that is occupied by blankets where my brother probably spent the night. I push them aside as I listen to the girl still in the kitchen, talking to what I assume is already a half-drunk Reid. I drop carelessly onto the couch and sink into my s**t, until the little firecracker sits down next to me, looking at what I'm doing. A few seconds later my brother walks upstairs towards his room, barely and giving us a glance, leaving me alone with this little minx. She can't be more than eighteen, her cheeks still have that childish roundness and her nose is dotted with more than a dozen freckles that look like cinnamon sprinkled over a perfect, meticulous vanilla latte. And I hate vanilla. "Who the hell are you?" I growl at her, turning my face away because she's invading my personal space and her sweetish scent tickles my nose. Katarina shoves her face further into the laptop, brushing my chest with her hair to look at the screen, then turns her head and watches me with a peculiar glint in her eyes. "Are you a hacker?" She asks insightfully and I close my laptop tightly, looking at her eyes that are too close to me. "You're a hacker" and this time she says it with a smart smile, because she knows she caught me. "You're a groupie of my brother and you're waiting for a threesome?" "I'm more famous than him, why would I be his groupie?" "So, you want a threesome?" I ask, irritated, "Because I don't get that s**t, so get the f**k away from me." She stares at me, almost meticulously, like she's trying to read me. "Do I make you nervous?" Her question makes me laugh. Does this little firecracker with freckles and an irritable chocolate addiction really think she's doing anything on me? Laughable, not to mention ridiculous. Slowly, I set the laptop aside and lean into her with calculated gentleness, easing her back until her back is pressed against the armrest of the couch and her turgid breasts are pressed against the fabric of the tank top she's wearing. Angel face and body that could tempt the devil himself, too bad I'm an expert at feeling anything. I see her, her false bravado, how she thinks that with a smile or a word she'll have me at her feet. Katarina Volkov, I remember her now. Reid has named her several times at dinners with our parents. She is a new actress with award-winning parents in the industry. Born into a golden cradle with the world at her feet. My brother seems to have a soft spot for her, but not in a romantic way, it's almost as if he wants to protect her from the s**t he's in. Being a prominent rock star has its costs and my brother knowingly took them on, signing the contract for his soul with eyes wide open. I wonder if she knows who she's friends with. I detail her face slowly, from her large gray eyes, her small but straight nose that gives her face character and red lips that look like they've been stung by a wasp. I blink and when I catch myself looking at her lips more than necessary, I move down to her breasts, where her n*****s are already waving at me. I smile. So damn predictable. I wonder if it's my brother or me she wants and her possible answer makes me angry, which throws me off balance and makes me hate her a little more. Who the hell is she? And why the f**k do I care who she wants to f**k? "Do I look nervous?" I ask, looking into her eyes. She holds my gaze, which in itself is a discovery. Not many people are able to do that. They say the eyes are the entrance to the soul, but if the soul is empty, you can sink into a deep hole of absolutely nothing. Can't she see that I could swallow her whole if I wanted to? And I would tear her to pieces, small, irreparable pieces that no one could ever put back together again. I wonder if I'd have fun along the way. As I ponder how much it would be worth playing with her, see how far I could melt her cold, fake ice, she does something that surprises me and momentarily knocks me out of my orbit. She lifts her face and presses her lips to mine. The little twerp. We both stare at each other wide-eyed as her plump lips tease mine, trapping my lower lip in a long suck that makes me grunt loudly. I pull my mouth away, but she chases after it, again trapping my lip in a firm, long-lasting suck that tastes like nutella. Fuck, I hate nutella. My hand comes out and I squeeze her waist in a firm grip that makes her shudder and I push her back against the couch, handling her soft silhouette. She finally falls back, a satisfied smile on her lips as she watches my mouth probably redden from her assault. She looks pleased with herself, as if she's beaten me at a game, managing to get a reaction out of me, as if her mission on earth was to get me off my nerves and she's succeeded successfully. I loathe her. I look at her with an almost maniacal rage and taking myself by surprise in something I haven't done before, I lower my face, sink it towards her and nibble on her lip. Hard. I taste her blood in my mouth and when I pull away, I run my thumb across her lip, wiping the red liquid with my finger. I stare at the scandalous stain on my skin, then at her equally red-stained mouth and stick my thumb in to taste what's left of her blood. Perfect. Katarina Volkov stares at me motionless, breathing agitatedly as she struggles with looking at my eyes or my mouth, undecided which she prefers. Does she think she can play with me? I wouldn't let her launch her first move before I rip her to shreds. And I know she's already catching on. The air in the place is heavy, charged and so tense that our breaths sound like war blows, invading space and time. My little Frozen, she thought she could take me, doesn't know that the predator here is me. I lean towards her, running my nose up the arch of her neck in an involuntary movement until I stick my mouth against her ear. "You don't want to play with me, Katarina" I taste her name on my tongue and she closes her eyes, as if tasting it too. "I'm not afraid of blood, I seek it... and you don't want me addicted to yours." With that last warning, I walk away, grab my laptop and lock myself in my room. And I continue to savor her, but not her blood... but her. Warning: Killian is not a hero, he is an anti-hero who is willing to do absolutely anything for Katarina, if this is not your kind of book, please refrain from reading it.This is the second book of The Colleman Brothers, it is recommended to read The Rockstar's Redemption first, in order to better understand the events.