Chapter 12 #2
I grab my jacket from the back of the chair and slam the door behind me as I exit the house, my hard cock digging almost painfully against the zipper of my jeans with every step I take.
Fucking hell. Get yourself together.
I glance around quickly to make sure nobody is watching, then adjust myself, dragging my cock up in my boxers so the tip points upward. After that, I wipe my hand with the hanky I always carry—but it’s not enough.
You taste like her now. Smell like her.
A few of my men call out greetings as I stride towards the main house, and I nod curtly in response, not trusting my voice right now.
In my office, I head straight to the ensuite, wash my hands until the skin tingles, then splash freezing water on my face, needing the jolt to my system to bring me back to something approaching rationality.
When I return, I’m not even surprised to see Dhimiter waiting for me with raised brows. “You didn’t even acknowledge seeing me. What’s crawled up your ass?”
“If you knew playing around with my father would piss me off, why do it then? Eager for a response from me?” I ask calmly as I take my seat behind my desk. “I’m not the cause of your daddy issues, Dhimiter.”
“Fuck you,” he growls, though there's no real heat behind it. He slouches into the chair across from me. “Shefi said you moved the girl into your house. What did you find last night?”
I hesitate, an unfamiliar protective instinct rising in my chest. If Dhimiter knows the truth about her identity, he’ll insist on punishing her. Or worse—trying to torture information out of her.
But that tactic won’t work on my genjeshtarush.
She’s too well trained. Too strong.
Or maybe I just want to torture her another way. In my bed. With my mouth. With my cock—
“Roan…”
“I got a lead on her identity,” I say carefully, tapping my index finger on the desk. “But I can’t be sure until Lorik does more investigation.”
“Did you find out her real name?” His gaze drops to my nervous tapping, and I force myself to stop and look directly into his eyes as I lie.
“No. I couldn’t find that out. But Lorik will be able to once I share her movements from last night with him.”
Dhimiter stares at me for a long moment, and I wonder if he can see through the deception. But finally, he sighs. “If anyone can find out her real identity, it’s Lorik.”
He believes me. Good.
I nod and pull out my phone, typing quickly.
I have a new task for you. Forget about looking into Mia Jorge. I want to know everything you can find about Katherine Pierce—she’s a federal agent. I want to know where she was born. Which school she went to. Everything. Don’t presume anything might be irrelevant.
I need to know everything about her so I understand what makes her tick. The fastest way to break her.
Not because I’m curious about her as a person. Definitely not that.
This is purely strategic.
I try to push Katie out of my head as I go through my day, but I find myself compulsively checking the security feeds in my house to monitor what she’s doing.
It’s to make sure she doesn’t snoop around. No other reason.
It certainly doesn't have anything to do with that scorching kiss we shared. Not at all.
Rafael finally sent me the contact information for two of his best architects, and I just closed up a promising interview with one of them. The other has me scheduled for tomorrow morning, but I feel genuinely good about the first one.
Finally, some progress on the restaurant project.
I’m not going to hire just one architect, though—I don't want the disappointment of the past few weeks to repeat itself. Redundancy is safety.
I’m typing back a message to Liam, the second architect, to confirm our meeting time when another text from Rafael arrives. I frown as I read it.
RAFAEL MORETTI
Let’s have a drink tonight. I’ll see you at Inferno.
It’s not a request.
Raincheck. How about tomorrow night? I’m too busy tonight.
RAFAEL MORETTI
I don’t mind coming to your compound for the drink. We need to talk.
My frown deepens. I don’t want him or any of the other Nightshades nosing around in my territory, asking questions. As it is, only Maximo truly knows how this compound operates, and because of Elira, he’s mostly kept those details to himself. I’d like to keep it that way for as long as possible.
Fuck. That means I’ll have to go meet him in Manhattan after all. No, I’m not going that far. Not when I have so much work on my plate.
How about we meet at Mughetto’s instead?
Maximo’s little restaurant that’s not really a restaurant.
Rafael replies with a thumbs up, and I drop my phone on the desk, wondering what’s so important that he’s willing to leave Manhattan.
Although I have suspicions. Suspicions that center around the little liar currently living in my house.
Mughetto’s is a four-story building tucked into a residential neighborhood—the kind of place you’d never look twice at if you didn’t know what it really was.
The restaurant itself occupies the ground floor, complete with fading blue awnings over glass windows and a sign hanging beneath displaying its name and the image of the flower it represents.
Lily of the valley.
My inner arm itches where my tattoo sits—fresh ink from a few weeks ago, after Rafael’s declaration that I’m one of the Nightshades now.
I get out of my car and push through the double glass doors, ignoring the pretty interior as I scan for my quarry. Rafael is sitting towards the back, Maximo and Romero flanking him on either side.
I pause, wondering if I should have brought Dhimiter and some men. I didn’t think it would be necessary for a simple conversation.
Though nothing with the Nightshades is ever simple.
“I didn’t realize this was a family meeting,” I announce as I approach, letting the doors close behind me. “Where’s Michael?” I make a show of glancing around even though I know if the big tatted man isn’t visible, he’s not here.
“He had business to attend to,” Romero answers, lifting a tumbler of golden liquid to his lips—whiskey, most likely.
I grab an extra chair from a nearby table and drag it towards their group, the feet scraping loudly against the hardwood floor. Maximo straightens in his seat, his brows twitching.
He’s getting irritated. Good.
I swallow my smile and twist the chair around so the backrest faces their table, then slip into it heavily, my elbows coming to rest on the backrest like I don’t have a care in the world—even though I’m a little worried about how they’ll take the outcome of this meeting.
“So,” I move my gaze between the three of them. “What’s so important that you had to see me tonight?”
“Can you sit normally?” Maximo asks with clear irritation, eying my unconventional posture.
“Nah.” I smirk. “This is too comfortable.”
“It doesn’t matter how he’s sitting,” Rafael cuts in, his steel-grey eyes locking onto mine with the intensity that reminds me why he runs this city. “What we’re here to discuss is more important.”
Here it comes.
I raise a brow coolly, none of my thoughts showing on my face. “And what is that, exactly?”
“You have something of mine in that compound of yours,” Rafael starts seriously, and I can’t help it—I chuckle as I lean forward to snag Romero’s whiskey.
I twirl the glass between my fingers. “Oh?” This should be good.
Rafael clears his throat. “That’s a wrong turn of phrase. Not something of mine, exactly. But it’s come to my attention that there’s a woman who means a great deal to my wife working as a maid in your compound. I want you to release her to me.”
Absolutely fucking not.
“Wouldn’t she have gone to you or your wife if she felt the same way?” I point out reasonably as I scowl into Romero’s tumbler, no longer amused.
Nobody has the right to call Katie theirs, mistake or not. She’s mine.
Rafael frowns. “I don’t think you understand. I’m not asking you to release her to us, I’m telling you. Katherine has been a close friend of Emily’s for nearly a decade, and—”
“No.” The word lands as I slam the tumbler onto the table, the forceful thud rippling through my hand and splattering cold whiskey over my skin.
“You are the one who doesn't understand, Rafael.” I make sure to look at each man in turn so they comprehend that I won’t repeat myself, then settle my gaze back on Rafael’s surprised face.
“Katina is mine. I would appreciate it if you don’t interfere with our affairs.
That might prove difficult for a nosy fiend like yourself, but try. Now if that was all, I have to go.”
I get to my feet, half-expecting them to stop me, but a glimmer of understanding lights their faces and they nod solemnly.
Romero shakes his head slowly. “Poor bastard. You don’t know what’s about to hit you.”
What? They’ve come to the wrong conclusion.
But I don't bother correcting them as I give them my back and walk out.
Is it really the wrong conclusion, though?
The traitorous voice whispers in my head as I slam the door behind me.
When possession and possessiveness run this thick in your veins, when the thought of anyone else touching her makes you want to commit violence, when you’re willing to defy the most powerful man in New York City just to keep her…
Maybe… No.
I shove the thought away viciously and stride towards my car.