Chapter Three
Collin
Months ago. After the Romano Dinner.
I gazed down upon the fallen King of Darkness. His son, Tony, was dead.
The mafia’s allies had abandoned us, and Romano’s numbers had diminished.
This was never a part of the plan. Gwen Davenport and her goddamn revenge…
I rubbed my jaw as I stared down at Ray Romano, broken and vulnerable.
It would be so easy to just—
“Mr. Stevens?”
Clenching my jaw as well as my right fist housed in the pocket of my slacks, I turned to our doctor on staff. The Romano family liked to keep two doctors on standby. “What?” I barked, my eyes never leaving Romano.
“The girl is asking for you.”
Turning on my heel, I rubbed a thumb across my lip, my eyes assessing the man from feet to face. When my eyes met his, I couldn’t help but smile at the fear behind them and the sweat glistening across his bald forehead.
We were in the west wing of my house; its location known by only a handful of people—Romano being one of them, despite my best efforts.
The house staff was brought in through Italy, hired by Mrs. Romano herself. They were blindfolded through the last half of the trip here to keep this location hidden from the rest of the world. As for the rest of the people on this island, they were brought on by my careful selection.
“Who is asking for me?” I asked slowly as I retrieved my knife from my jacket pocket. The man trembled as I flipped the blade out, the dim light bouncing off the metal.
“The…the girl is asking for you, sir.”
Insufficient fool.
Three seconds later, I had the man by the throat, his back against the wall, his feet dangling from the ground. I pressed the blade against his cheek, right under his eye.
“Are you disrespecting my house guest, Doctor?”
He tried to pry my hand from his throat, which only pissed me off. “No—no,” he choked out.
“She has a name,” I spat. “And you will give her the respect she deserves. Do not address her as anything less again. Are we clear?”
The man nodded frantically, his skin turning a deep red. I stretched my neck from side to side as I tried to ignore the urge to kill him. Last night had gone horribly wrong, and I needed to kill someone to calm the fuck down.
I needed blood.
“The only reason you will live to see the sun rise tomorrow is because,” I hissed, pointing my blade to where the Dark King laid, “he needs to live.” I released my hold on him, taking a step back while he gasped for air, crumbling on the ground before me.
I pulled a cigarette out of my pocket and lit it up. Normally, I preferred not smoking indoors, but desperate times called for desperate measures.
After sucking in the delicious, toxic smoke, I flipped my lighter closed. “Are we clear on that, Doc?” I asked as the smoke exited my body, taking some of the tension away with it.
He coughed and nodded frantically.
“Good,” I said just before I lifted my dress shoe, angling it under his chin and forcing him to look at me. “Don’t piss me off again. The next time you do, you will go home to your wife with your balls shoved down your insignificant throat.”
I straightened the lapels of my suit jacket and turned back to Romano.
According to the medical staff, Gwen Davenport missed his heart by half an inch.
Half an inch, and everything I'd planned would’ve been destroyed.
He laid there in the dead center of his dark, wood, four poster bed, dressed in his signature red silk pajamas, his eyes closed.
His hand was hooked up to a monitor just beside the bed.
The pathetic excuse of a man finally got up off the floor and made his way around to the opposite side of the bed.
Away from me.
Smart.
I shoved my hands into my slacks to avoid the urge to choke him again. I cracked my neck quickly before growling, “Well, get on with it.”
“Right—right,” he stammered nervously, clearing his throat. “Mr. Romano suffered a tremendous amount of blood loss during the process of you moving him. Given the circumstances, it would have been ideal—”
“Let me stop you right there, Doc,” I said, holding a hand up. He swallowed, his throat bobbing up and down with fear.
I took a long drag of my cigarette before speaking again.
“You will lose that judgmental tone when you speak to me, or I will rip out your tongue with this hand,” I explained, pulling out my free hand and giving a small wave.
I took another drag, soaking in the smoke in an effort to settle my bloodlust. I hadn’t smoked this much in years.
It was the only thing that felt good anymore, after everything had fallen apart. I came to stand in front of him.
“Yes, sir. I do apologize.”
I waved my hand dismissively. I didn’t need him to explain to me what the chart said, and I grew tired of his annoying presence. “Get out,” I snapped as I snatched the tablet from his hands.
The man all but ran out of the room as I opened the medical chart. I focused on the notes in front of me, scanning through the medical jargon. He would survive—for now. He would be up on his feet within the next two weeks. I tossed the tablet on the bed and took one more look at the King.
How the mighty have fallen…
His kingdom was crumbling around him, his prince now dead, and his army was dispersing across the world, going into hiding.
Of course, there were still the loyal dogs, a hundred of them or so, standing by and awaiting orders.
I had a phone meeting with the region leaders tonight, income spreadsheets to analyze, and drop off routes to organize.
Then, there was the report sitting on my desk. A test. The mafia king loved tests, and I was anxious to see if he would pass this one.
So much to fucking do.
But she was asking for me.
Did she come before this—before your plans?
Images of him standing above me formed in my head, and my muscles began to ache from the future lesson I was sure to endure, something that I had to do to play the part.
But she was asking for me.
I pinched the bridge of my nose, letting out a groan of frustration. My arm flew out and knocked the bedside table over, but my teacher didn’t stir.
“Fuck!” I threw my palms behind my head and stared out the window… Night covered this island like a blanket, concealing us in the darkness. This was my sanctuary in hell, and my angel called to me, beckoning me into her light.
Fuck her light.
I would drag her into the darkness with me.
I dropped my hands and left the King to his healing slumber.
Five minutes later, I was standing in front of her door, which opened into the suite I had designed with her in mind years ago.
I wouldn’t knock.
This was my house, after all.
I twisted the doorknob and stepped inside.
My eyes went to her bed, only to find it empty, frustration crawling up my spine and rearing its ugly head.
My eyes snapped to the window to find my angel looking out into the darkness.
The moonlight illuminated her, causing her blonde hair to shine brighter, her fair skin glowing.
She was standing, and that pissed me off.
“You should be resting, angel,” I said, my voice echoing through the room. She jumped, and I refrained from smirking, despite the need to.
“Collin,” she snapped as she turned to face me fully. She was still in the standard patient gown provided for her when she arrived. That also pissed me off; I'd provided her with enough clothes for a small country in that closet. I kept my eyes on her face as hers seemed to trail down my body.
Ever the eager little angel…
“That’s my name,” I drawled as I took another step inside, letting the door fall closed with a slam behind me.
“Let me go.”
“You are in no position to be making demands. You seem to have forgotten your place, Karina.”
She took a moment to look around the room I had prepared for her. A small part of me, the flicker of light in my dark soul, hoped she would like it, and I loathed that part of me. “My place seems to be a bit unclear, Collin,” she snapped, attitude dripping from her sweet voice.
My hand itched to spank her. She held up her hands and began counting off the last weeks with her fingers.
“First, you drugged me, you choked me, then you left me to die of starvation in an abandoned building, and now, you bring me here to this pretty little palace on an island for what?” she hissed.
“If you would have just died in the building, we wouldn’t be having these issues,” I said, shrugging a shoulder, trying to ignore the twitch of pain in my chest at the thought of her death.
Her hands formed fists at her sides, her sky-blue eyes darkening, allowing her anger to float up to the surface. Yes angel, show me your darkness. Show your demon you aren’t made of glass, prove to me I didn’t break you.
I beg of you.
“If you want me dead, just kill me,” she barked.
The thought of killing her just made my stomach twist. I rebuked the thought, wiping it from my existence. “I need you alive,” I replied.
“For what? Your master plan to take over the baseball world with Ray Fuckface?”
“Watch your tone, Karina. I won’t tell you again,” I warned, taking two steps closer, my body yearning to be near her.
I hated it almost as much as I hated his name on her lips, giving me the same feeling I used to always have around her, and it started the moment I laid eyes on her in that low-life burger joint nine years ago.
Present Day.
I shook my head, letting out a low growl as I walked down the hall to my study.
I had been summoned. Throwing the doors open, I sauntered in and sank into the chair behind my desk.
A moment later, my phone rang, and I tossed it on the surface of my desk as I sat back, watching it ring.
He was calling about the attack in St. Louis, an attack I didn’t order. An attack that left nearly thirty of his loyal soldiers dead on the streets. I let the phone go to voicemail as I swallowed the nails in my throat, my thoughts drifting to the redhead on the opposite wing of the house.
Haley Austen.
James Garner’s lover.