Excitement slithered up my spine as visions of his blood splattering all over the white leather took over.
A hand landed on my back, causing that feeling to break apart, ending my fun. “Col, please! Don’t!” she pleaded. I stood up, tucking my gun back into my suit. She tried to pass me, to get to the shaking man below me, but my arm stopped her.
“Karina,” I warned, my eyes finding hers.
She looked up at me, her heart shaped face morphing into anger. “He was doing his job!” she snapped.
“Go sit down,” I hissed, snapping my finger and pointing to her seat.
“If this is how—”
I gripped her ponytail, bringing her flush against my body, causing her to lose her breath. “Sit down, or choke on my cock. Right here. I’ll make him watch, and then I’ll kill him for getting to see you on your knees.”
Fury was present in her eyes, but hidden underneath that sky blue wasarousal. I smirked as I brought my lips to her ear. “Do what your demon says, angel.”
She gasped but did what I ordered. Once she was seated and flustered, I turned to the captain. “Port 45.”
“Yes, sir,” he stuttered, nodding like a maniac.
As the vessel took off, I sat across from my angel and assessed her, tilting my head as she turned to look at my island. My island wasn’t small by any means, but with the size of the house, it seemed that way. The mansion was black stone, stark during daylight, but invisible once the sun said its goodbyes. I did everything I could, ordering all the right materials for the project years ago when I found the land for sale.
I purchased it almost immediately, with the foolish hope that I would be happy in the future. My jaw clenched at the thought. The problem with leaving all the power to one man was simple…when that man crumbled, so did his power.
When he was weak, everything else was weak.
Ray Romano was no longer fit for the role to lead the mafia.
Our enemies were getting wind of that. The week after Tony's, when Ray was in my home, healing from the brutal revenge of Gwen Davenport's dagger, I got a phone call…
One week after the Romano dinner. Collin's mansion.
The dagger was impressive, I had to give Davenport credit for that. It was made of metal unlike any other, something rare. It wouldn’t be flagged going through a metal detector. The blade itself was black, with a standard black handle that featured an inscription on the handle in gold lettering.
“Revenge should have no bounds.” Shakespeare. Hamlet, to be precise.
Ah, Davenport, ever the book worm.
I continued to sip my whiskey, studying the weapon before I opened the report. Of course, I wasn’t an idiot. I had the thing sent off to a lab in Miami to test its properties. This metal wasn’t from American soil, and I needed to know what the hell I was dealing with it. The only good thing to come of this shitty situation was that it wasn’t laced with poison.
Romano was still healing, but that didn’t stop him from ordering me around. As long as he stayed in that fucking bed, I would do whatever he wanted. I didn’t need him venturing around the house and discovering a not-so-dead Kevin Matthews in the basement or my angel.
He could never know about my angel, no matter how much she annoyed me.
My cell phone buzzed, and annoyance prickled my skin. “What?” I barked in the receiver, throwing the dagger across the room, the blade landing deep in the wall by the fireplace.
A low chuckle sounded on the other end of the line. “Dobryi vecher.”
“It’s morning over here, you Russian dick,” I deadpanned as I rose from my chair, crossing my office to yank the dagger out of the wall.
“A little birdy told me your Italian King has fallen ill,” the man said, his thick accent lingering on every word.
“Oh, you must be referring to the little birdy I skinned alive last night,” I returned. My feet stopped in front of the window, the early morning sun starting to rise over the water.
Silence.
I smiled as I looked down at my blood-stained outfit: a white beater and my slacks. I was sure my face was still covered, much like my tattooed skin. The skin of a killer was never clean.
“You underestimated me again, Kavi,” I drawled, picking up my whiskey glass.
