Brutal King (The Seven Deadly Sinacores #7)

Chapter 4

4

GIDEON

“There are those born to receive,” my father said to me the day he brought me to Kingsbrook Manor for the first time on my tenth birthday. “And there are those born to take.”

“Which are we, Father?” I asked him.

“I want you to have it all, Gideon.” He knelt down so that we were eye to eye. “Therefore, I must teach you to take what you want.”

S ofia’s soft footsteps follow behind me all the way into the house. I pause at the door to let her in. She stops too, glancing behind her toward the woods with longing in her eyes.

“Come inside, Sofia, or the cats will get in.”

This gets her attention. “Cats?” she asks, her brow furrowed.

“Feral cats that live on the property. They’re always searching for a way into the house.”

She blinks. “And here I am trying to find a way out .”

When she’s through and past me, I shut the door. The sound of the lock setting echoes throughout the foyer. She jumps and turns to look at it with horror-filled eyes.

Then, she shifts those eyes on me and they’re daggers of accusation. You’re caging me.

“It’s an old house. Everything makes loud sounds,” I tell her, tamping down the guilt rising in my gut. Because I never feel guilt. I feel nothing but desire. I want things, I take them. It’s what I was taught to do.

I didn’t know how true Father’s words were when I heard them. How well it would serve me to heed them. I’ve had everything taken from me by those who stand on moral high grounds. They felt no guilt leaving a child without his mother. Even less when they murdered my father and set out to kill me too.

So, no. I don’t feel guilt taking what I want.

And I wanted her more than any other treasure I’ve collected over the years.

Fuck me, she’s exquisite. A prize. Even now, as she looks at me with fury, maybe more so because of it.

I’ve been accused of having ice in my veins. It’s probably true and that’s why I’m attracted to the fire in her eyes.

Some wayward thought enters her mind and her lips suddenly curve up in a way that’s familiar to me because I do it all the time. My Little Bird has an evil side and it intrigues me. More than that, I like it.

I reward her with a charming grin.

That is, until she voices that fucking thought. “You’re old. Do you make sounds too?”

Laughter erupts from me at her unexpected remark, but I recover quickly. In two strides, I’m standing in front of her, towering over her. She wants to run again, I can tell. Instead, she stands her ground and lifts her chin.

Ah, Little Bird. You can be brave all you want. Rattle the cage. It’s more fun this way.

“The better question is, what sounds can I get out of you?” I lift a hand to touch her, but before my fingers make contact, she’s racing up the stairs.

My long legs make it easy to keep up with her, or at least where I’m able to keep her within sight. When I reach the third-floor landing that separates the north and south wings of the manor, she’s just disappearing into one of the rooms.

“That’s the wrong—” the door slams before I can finish my sentence. “Room.”

Calmly, I walk to it and knock. “Sofia.”

“Go away!” she screams and the lock is set into place.

“As you wish,” I say. However, I remain there for a moment, imagining her on the other side, her palms pressed against the wood in an effort to stop me should I try to enter. If I wanted to, neither the lock nor any barrier she put between us would keep me from her.

Fuck me. I want to break in just to show her I can.

I press my hands to the spot hers might be. I hold them there until I hear her slide down the door to the floor.

That part of me that wants to feel guilt tightens and I let out a breath to dislodge it from my chest. She needs time to adjust and I’m a patient man. Usually.

I leave her there, in the wrong room. It might take her a while to discover that, when she returned to the hall she came from, she didn’t go far enough. Her suite, the one I carefully chose for her because of the delicate feminine décor, is two doors down.

A smile paints across my lips as I envision her when she realizes her mistake. It remains as I make my way to the study downstairs.

“Sir.” My majordomo, Henry, is poking his head out of the hall that leads to the kitchen. “May I?”

“Coast is clear.”

The rest of his body appears. “I’ve sorted out the staff, as you asked. Housekeeping will be done overnight, and only by Jenny. I will stock the pantry, but are you sure you don’t want Derek to cook? He’s accustomed to working strange hours and can be trusted.”

“Of course Derek can be trusted. I wouldn’t have hired him as chef otherwise. But for now, I want to keep Sofia…” I search for the right word. Sequestered? Captive? All to my fucking self? I opt for, “Calm.”

Henry’s already thin lips tighten more. “Very well, sir. If there is nothing else, I shall return in a few days.”

“Have a goodnight, Henry.”

He inclines his head and leaves. I stare after the older man that’s been with me since shortly after my father died. It took a long time for him to fully gain my trust, my father had just been viciously murdered after all. But the manor was too big for me to care for on my own and everyone that had been here previously was suddenly suspect. Anyone of them could have betrayed Father.

As expected, Henry leaves the house without a sound to give him away. Quiet as a mouse in this very big house. It’s important on many levels, including remaining out of Sofia’s sight.

I take my seat behind the hideous mahogany desk Father loved so much because it was expensive, and wonder about Sofia. If I’ve come to know her at all over the weeks I’ve watched her, it’s that she’s predictably unpredictable. She’ll do something, that’s guaranteed. The question is, what? Will she stay in that room, or switch back? Will she try to run again?

Guessing games are fun, but the main goal is to win. The only way I’ll get to do that is to remain one step ahead. I must consider every possibility and be ready for it.

Sabotage. Rebellion. Vandalism. Escape. The chances that Sofia will try any of those are high.

There’s also the possibility that she’ll attempt to murder me in my sleep.

“Hmm.” I sit back and scratch at the scruff on my chin as I mull that over. I’m not sure if that’s a possibly or an eventuality.

That would be fun. Not as much as her punishment would be. And it won’t just be fun for me.

Some would call me arrogant. I call it knowing how other people perceive me. I know I’m attractive in a way that makes women lose their ability to breathe.

While at six foot five, my height and broad shoulders can be imposing, and my expensive suits show I’ve got money, I believe it’s my eyes that traps most of my prey.

Even as a young boy, ladies would croon about how mesmerizing my eyes were. I’d bat my lashes at them and they’d giggle and pinch my cheeks.

Now, I use my gaze to terrorize, intimidate or seduce.

In Sofia’s case, I’ve done all three. When she caught sight of me the first time at the bar, there was no mistaking the keen interest she took in me. The way she angled her body in her chair my way, or how her cobalt blue irises darkened as she took me in.

Sofia is afraid of me now, but before that, she wanted me. Her attraction was undeniable.

I pluck a photograph from my desk and study it. In it, she’s looking over her shoulder at something in the distance, one corner of her mouth quirked up. It must have been windy the day the photo was taken, because her dark hair is billowing wildly behind her. The sunlight catches tiny freckles on her cheeks and nose and her skin seems to glow. But it’s the cobalt in her eyes that nearly captured me. Like the sea during a storm, wild and inescapable. If I’m not careful, I could fall victim to them and drown.

The picture is a couple of months old, one of many taken by my spy the moment we discovered Tony Sinacore, Sofia’s eldest brother, was meddling, snooping, trying to figure out the connection between recent murders that had nothing to do with him.

Why can’t people just mind their fucking business?

He came very close to discovering I was behind the killings. It left me no choice but to learn about him and everyone that mattered in his life. Every detail is now contained in a heavy folder I’ve locked away in my safe, SINACORE written on it.

But this one photo… This one, I keep out.

“Sofia,” I whisper and run my thumb across her face.

She’s extraordinarily beautiful. But what has me coming back to the photo is the mischief in her eyes as she looks behind her. I don’t have context of what was happening, however, I followed her enough myself to imagine it. She was sneaking off campus, and had succeeded in evading her guards.

“You naughty girl,” I say and smile with amusement.

My phone buzzes and I tug it out of my pocket. It’s my right-hand woman.

“Scar,” I answer.

“Clive Maxton has been located,” she says.

“I want the details sent to me immediately.”

“Already on the way, boss.”

I set the phone down and sit back as I stare ahead. My smile has vanished, replaced by the hard set of my lips. There’s a grinding sound in my jaw as I tighten it until it seems my molars will crack.

There’s nothing amusing about revenge. So far, it hasn’t been sweet. It’s does nothing to appease the demons clawing at my doorstep, waiting for me to die so they can drag me to Hell for my sins.

But revenge is all I have and nothing, not even a pretty little bird, can stop me.