Her defiance.
Her strength.
It makes my dick hard.
As I stand there, staring at the empty doorway like she might walk back in, I have to adjust myself.
She doesn’t.
Obviously.
I drag a hand over my jaw and laugh.
“I’m pathetic.”
Thank fuck, no one is here to hear me.
It’s the one benefit of having an estate no one even knows about. Well, my armed guards are here, but none of them answer me or acknowledge if they even heard me. Having them here is necessary because I’m not allowed to have weaknesses. Not when my uncle is the one wearing the crown, and he would murder me if he knew what I have hidden here—namely, Victoria.
The hard part is keeping Matteo out of the loop. Matteo is a brother to me, but I just can’t risk it.
Fuck. Even thinking of lying to him makes me want to murder someone.
Speaking of killing someone, I need a distraction, and that would be the perfect one.
Something that bleeds or screams or begs for mercy. Preferably, all three will help my mood.
I pull out my phone and dial Rafe.
He answers on the second ring with a groan. “What now?”
“You find the rat yet?” I cut in.
Rafe exhales hard, like he’s debating whether he should hang up on me or keep talking. “Good morning to you, too.”
“I don’t do mornings.” I pace toward the balcony doors. “I do results.”
A sigh hisses across the line. “We have a lead.”
“Is he breathing?”
“For now—”
“Bring him to the warehouse.” My teeth grind around the words. “Whole body. I need him to talk. I’m not in the mood for bullshit today.”
“Rough time with the missus?”
I ignore his question. “Bring him.”
“I know you want him breathing, but do you want him conscious?”
“That’s how interrogations usually work,” I snap. “Unless you know something I don’t about corpses. If so, call the Vatican.”
“I’ll bring him.”
“Good.” I hang up without another word.
I don’t say goodbye. That’s for people who aren’t planning to beat answers out of someone before lunch.
