I force my lungs open. My phone rings before I can reply; it's Dre. I step into the stairwell, where the signal is better and there are fewer cameras. I don’t wait for him to tell me why he's calling; whatever it is, it can wait. "What I tell you stays between us," I warn in lieu of a greeting.
"You got it." From my peripheral vision, I watch Oksana walk over to the nurse's station.
"I’m restructuring my father’s command."
An audible pause ensues, followed by, "About fucking time."
I let out a breath that feels like it’s been held for three years.
"I need men," I say. "Not his men. Mine."
"How many?"
"As many as I can trust."
"That’s not a number, Steph."
"It’s a kingdom," I answer. "Or the start of one."
Dre whistles low. "Alright,King. I’ll bring you soldiers who answer to no one but you."
"Good."
"And we’re doing this quietly?"
"Yes. Until it’s too late for him to stop it."
Dre chuckles darkly. "Can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’ve been waiting for this version of you."
I grip the railing, surprised it's not a lie, because suddenly I feel freer than I have in years. "So have I."
Oksana returns, carrying two waters and a muffin that she probably forced someone to surrender. She hands me the muffin.
"For the hypoglycemia," she teases.
"I don’t have hypo?—"
She raises a brow. "Eat the fucking muffin, Conti."
I eat it. She leans next to me and says, without looking, "You’re different."
"So are you."
"No." Her voice drops. "You’re different in a way that frightens me."
I turn my head toward her. "Why?"
Her eyes meet mine. "Because you look like a man who’s decided to win at any cost."
A beat where neither of us looks away follows, then her mouth curves—slow, wicked, infuriatingly honest. "You were sexy before," she murmurs. "Attractive. Dangerous in that polished, boardroom-mafia way." Her gaze drags down my throat to my chest, like she’s mapping the new shape of me. "But now?" She leans in, voice dropping to something that lights every nerve in me on fire.
"Now, you’re downright lethal. A killer wearing a king’s skin. And I shouldn’t say this but—fuck it—just looking at you is making me wet."
My brain stops. My entire body goes stone-hard, instant and brutal. She knows what she did. The little smile says so.
"That’s not helping," I manage, voice low.
"It’s not meant to." She shrugs, takes a sip of water as if she didn’t just detonate my self-control. "It’s meant to tell you the truth. I’m not scaredof you, Stephano. I’m scared of what you might become if someone doesn’t keep a hand on your spine."
