Chapter 35
DOMINIC
A week ago
I told myself I wouldn’t do it, I swore I wouldn’t fucking do it.
But here I was again, buried in another newspaper with Athena King’s face plastered across the front page. Headline after headline, photo after photo. Each word I read lit a fuse under my skin until I finally hurled the damn thing across the room.
I’m a calculated man. I live ten steps ahead of everyone else. My life is simple:
Kill. Survive. Get revenge.
And yet, somehow, I’ve let a woman become my fucking obsession.
It makes me sick. Athena King takes more from me than she has any right to.
She crawled under my skin, into my blood, and left me starving for something I didn’t even know I craved.
Her touch, her taste, her body, I wanted to own it all.
Break her. Make her beg for more until my name was the only word she remembered.
I’m no good man. Never claimed to be. I live in shadows, feeding on power and fear. I keep people at a distance. If they don’t make me money or serve a purpose, I don’t want them.
Men who don’t benefit me? Not interested.
Women who aren’t just a quick fuck? Not interested. One simple transaction, always on my terms. I want it my way, or nothing.
But with her? I lost control. She melted something in me, stole it, and now she parades around on front pages, smiling, mocking me like she played me.
She doesn’t know who the fuck she’s dealing with. She woke up the monster I keep chained. I’ll remind her what happens when you laugh in my face.
My phone buzzed. Alec’s name flashed on the screen. I leaned back.
“You have a guest,” he said.
“If it’s my father, tell him to fuck off.”
“It’s not. It’s Clarissa Stone.”
I raised an eyebrow. That is… interesting. Clarissa Stone. My father’s wife—the woman who’s despised me from the day we met.
“Escort her up,” I ordered, then hung up.
Minutes later, she walked in. Cold, empty eyes locking with mine.
The door shut behind her. She was dressed in her perfect designer clothes, the epitome of wealth and privilege.
Almost sixty, but you’d never guess. She removed her wide-brimmed hat, revealing a swollen, bruised face—cuts and marks painted across her pale skin.
Someone had taken their time with that “masterpiece.” She sat, head held high despite the damage.
““You’re the last person I’d normally turn to,” she said coolly. “But I don’t have a choice.”
“Be specific,” I said. She was desperate. That was obvious. “Does your husband know you’re here?”
“No. And I want to keep it that way.”
“Your secret’s safe with me. Continue.” I shrugged, grinning.
‘‘I need your help.”
I leaned back in my chair, smirk tugging at my mouth.
“What’s the matter? Don’t like married life anymore?”
“Mock me if you want. I hate asking you for anything, but you’re the only one who can do this.”
“I don’t do couple’s therapy.”
“I don’t want to fix it,” she snapped. Her eyes burned like coals. “I want him gone.”
That got my attention.
“You know, wives who plot against their husbands usually end up dead, right? You’re banking on that not happening to you?”
“Oh, please.” She laughed. “You hate him as much as I do.”
I didn’t deny it. I clenched my jaw, nodding to her bruises.
“Did he do this to you?”
Her mask cracked for the first time. She let out a brittle laugh.
“He was drunk and pissed off. Let his men do whatever they wanted with me. Wanted to watch the show. When he sobered up, he was furious that I allowed it. Then he beat me to teach me a lesson.’”
That’s Garrett Stone. I’m no angel, but that? Even I don’t go that low.
““Why come to me?” I asked.
“Because you despise him more than I do.”
“I despise everyone.”
Garrett Stone was going to die by my hand. Not for her, but for me.
“What if I told you your mother’s death was his doing?”
Her words hit me like a bullet.
“He gave the order,” she said softly. “I was there. He covered it up. Killed every man who might talk.”
The silence stretched, heavy and cold.
“He’s afraid of you,” she continued. “He knows what you’re capable of. I don’t like you, and you don’t like me. But we have a common enemy, Dominic.”