Chapter 3 Reign
REIGN
How interesting.
What was Caine Caparelli’s little sister doing at a Bratva club?
Fucking better yet, what the fuck was Davide Caparelli’s precious little daughter doing here?
Didn’t she know better?
Or was she here to help her father out?
I watched as she made her way to the door, taking care not to touch anyone on the way out. As if she were afraid everyone here in the club had some sort of highly contagious disease that she didn’t want to catch.
I smiled a little when some fucker accidentally bumped into her. With the way she reacted, you would think he had done something else to her.
I made my way over to Baran, taking a seat next to him.
The fucker grinned at me.
I didn’t say anything for a long moment, waiting for him to say something.
I should have known better.
I let out a long exhale. “Tell me you knew who that was?”
“Do you really underestimate me that much? Don’t you remember who gave you all the intel on Davide Caparelli’s family in the first place? I would have recognized the little mafia princess anywhere, let alone when she was sitting no more than three feet away from me.”
At least I knew he hadn’t just spilled everything to her.
“What did she want? Why was she here?”
“I think she was just here for a drink. It’s probably just a coincidence.”
I looked over at the unfinished drink she left on the table. I pulled it closer to me, then drank the rest of it. Baran kept his eyes on me the entire time.
“Just a coincidence,” I repeated. “I don’t believe in coincidences.”
Especially in our line of work.
“Do me a favor,” I said.
Baran nodded, no hesitation. “Keep a closer eye on her brother.”
His eyes flickered a little from my request. I didn’t blame him.
Caine Caparelli was… unpredictable before he approached Kingston, but at least there had been a clear distinction of what he was to us—he was the enemy.
And that was that. But now… it was hard to tell what his goal was.
And that made him worse than unpredictable.
It made him an anomaly I hadn’t figured out yet.
“And Jamie?” he asked.
I didn’t answer him right away. My mind was still stuck on her facial features. While the lighting in here wasn’t all that great, she had seemed to shine like a fucking beacon in the darkest of nights.
And I didn’t know why her face kept flashing in and out of my mind.
I didn’t know what it was about this woman that I found so… intriguing.
But I was intrigued.
Which is nothing short of her bad luck coming to bite her in the ass. I imagined there wasn’t much worse than drawing the attention of a monster.
I smiled. “Let it be for now. See if fate will bring her right to me once more.”
Baran laughed. “You don’t believe in fate.”
I shrugged and leaned back against the seat cushion, just as the waitress came back with Baran’s drink.
“I’ll have a Long Island iced tea,” I said. She nodded and hurried away from me. Smart girl. She knew better than to linger, lest she end up getting my attention. Jamie could learn a thing or two from the girl.
Jamie was back.
She was back, and she had been back for the last five days, staying for at least an hour each time, even though she looked fucking uncomfortable the entire time.
I hadn’t shown my face to her. I stayed in the back office, watching her through the CCTV. I wanted to see what she would do, besides sitting by herself at the bar and looking around, nursing her glass of Long Island iced tea.
She finished her drink.
And now, it was the fifth time she was back at the club.
I pushed away from the chair and walked out of there, heading straight to the bar. The two barstools next to her were empty, and I chose the one farthest away. Still close enough to her that I could smell the sweet floral scent of her perfume, but far enough not to crowd her space.
I watched her face in the reflection glass behind the bar.
She was staring down at the countertop and still hadn’t noticed me yet. I had spent so much of my time this past week looking at the footage of her on-screen, as well as all the pictures Baran had been able to scour up for me, I would have been able to recognize her even in a disguise.
She wasn’t wearing a disguise now. She was wearing almost no makeup.
At first glance, she was unremarkable. Plain.
But there was just something about her features that drew you in.
She got more and more remarkable the more I looked at her.
Dark-brown eyes that seemed almost too big for her small face, a pert nose, and full lips covered in red lipstick.
The red lipstick was the only bold thing about her look.
Her long dark hair was down, flowing nicely to the small of her back, which invoked all sorts of images of me wrapping it around my fist while I pounded into her from behind, to her slender waist that I would have no problem spanning with one hand.
She was sitting down, but I knew from memory alone that once she stood, her perky ass encased in those skintight jeans would surely draw the attention of all the men around.
Fuck, but her body was like a fucking dream.
A wet dream.
My eyes moved down to her shapely legs, crossed at the ankles.
When I looked back up at her face, her eyes were no longer downcast but were aimed straight at me.
She seemed almost surprised to see me sitting so close to her.
I held a grin.
If this girl wanted to come here and fuck with me, the first thing she needed to do was work on her facial expressions. Didn’t Caine teach his baby sister anything?
I looked away from her and flagged down the bartender, whose eyes widened when he noticed me sitting there.
He rushed over, leaving the customer he had been talking to mid-sentence.
“What can I get you, Mr. Mahankov?”
“Scotch. Neat.”
He nodded and hurried away, ignoring all the orders that had come in before. My glass was placed in front of me in no time.
I didn’t look over at her again.
If I was right, then she was here for me.
She needed to make the first move. We sat there in silence for five long minutes, with me enjoying my drink and her trying to be inconspicuous as she glanced over at me every once in a while.
I was almost convinced that I might have had this wrong when I felt a soft, hesitant tap on my shoulder.
I waited a beat before I turned my attention to her.
We made eye contact.
Jesus, but this girl was all eyes, wasn’t she?
They were big and brown, standing out against her pale skin. It made her appear younger than twenty-seven. Made her look younger than me, when I knew that wasn’t the case.
I raised my eyebrows in question, and a pretty little blush graced her cheeks. I was wholly fascinated by the color.
Who still blushes at that age?
“Hi,” she said, not shyly, but not bravely either. Almost as if she was forcing herself to have this interaction with me when she wanted to do anything but.
I hid my amusement and replied, “Hi.”
“I’m Jamie.” She held out her hand to me. I looked down at the small, slender shape of her delicate hand. I could so easily break it without any effort. How… fragile.
I grabbed her hand and gently shook it, feeling a strange bolt of electricity as we touched. I wanted to pull away from her right away but forced the contact.
She blinked, her body tensing a bit.
My eyes honed in on her throat as it moved from a hard swallow.
Everything about this girl was delicate.
She should know better than to try to get involved with me.
“Reign,” I said.
She smiled.
It looked more like a grimace.
Fuck, but she was amusing.
“Can I buy you a drink?” she asked.
“No.” She seemed taken aback by that. I didn’t smile when I pulled the hand I was still holding toward me a little, causing her body to shift forward and that goddamn floral scent to tease my nostrils, fucking with my head a little bit more.
I picked up a pen someone had left behind on the bar and wrote my number on her forearm. She looked disgusted that I would even mark her before she realized her facial expression and changed it to neutral.
I smiled then, unable to control myself as I finished the last digit of my phone number.
“Buy me dinner instead,” I said, looking up at her. I was still holding her hand.
She forcibly pulled it away.
I let out a small chuckle, finished the rest of my drink, and stood up, walking out of there without looking back.
The ball was in her court.
Now, I just had to wait and see.
See if the little spitfire had what it took to take my bait and call me.
How interesting.
And here I thought monotony was going to crush me before Kingston’s patience.
One entire day passed, and she still hadn’t called.
I was… disappointed.
And here I thought she had more guts than that.
But it seemed like whatever she wanted from me wasn’t enough motivation for her to risk getting involved with me.
I pulled my car up in front of the big mansion sitting on the outskirts of the city. It was protected by steel gates and about twenty men.
Most would think it was safe.
During the first fucking fifteen years of my life, I had come to know it as a prison. I was given more freedom when I killed my first man at fifteen, in front of my old man and his men. It proved to him that his second son wasn’t as useless as he had come to believe about me.
He had recorded the entire fucking thing, which only strengthened his case, and I knew he wouldn’t hesitate to release the footage to Eric Murphy, the corrupt police captain he had in his pocket.
It had been a decade since the events that killed my innocence. I wasn’t na?ve enough to believe he had gotten rid of the video. He was just waiting for the moment I would be brave enough to betray him.
What he didn’t understand was that I didn’t need motivation to betray him. I was born in the Bratva, and I had every intention of dying in it… of dying for it.
But my loyalty toward the bastard…
That was a different story.
I stayed in my car for a long minute. I didn’t want to fucking go inside, put on a fake fucking face for an hour or so, and endure the farce of a happy family dinner.
A knock came at my window, and I looked toward the sound to see Kingston standing there.
He wore his usual stoic expression, revealing nothing of his emotions or thoughts. I might as well be staring at a statue with how much he was giving me. I opened my door, and he stepped back for me to get out.
For a long moment, we said nothing to each other. I didn’t look away. Didn’t cower down. He might be older than me, and much more ruthless than any man I had met before, but hell would freeze over first before I let him get to me.
“Don’t just stand here. Let’s get inside,” he said.
I nodded and let him walk first. There was always something about walking in front of him that had the hair on the back of my neck rising.
I followed behind, taking in my surroundings.
People said we didn’t look alike. I agreed with the sentiment.
Whereas I had my mom’s dark-blond hair and light-blue eyes, he had our father’s dark hair and light-brown eyes. We had the same tanned skin, and while he stood tall at six foot three, I had two inches on him.
But those inches might as well not exist, considering how much space his presence alone took.
He opened the door and walked silently into the house. My foot hesitated at the threshold. Would it be too late to just get into my car and drive out of there?
Kingston turned his head back slightly and met my eyes, almost as if he knew what I was thinking, what I was tempted to do. “Don’t linger. Get inside.”
He walked away before I could respond.
The house was quiet—as expected.
While this house had seven bedrooms and nine baths, along with a backyard big enough to accommodate both a swimming pool and a tennis court, only two people lived here.
It was big enough that my mom could go days without running into the old bastard. That was, if he wasn’t hunting her down when he got into one of his moods.
I didn’t react when we got to the dining room.
The table was all set up with enough food to feed a small basketball team.
At the head, my father sat, his eyes focused on whatever was on his phone, and at the other end of the table was my mother, her gaze downcast. She didn’t react when Kingston and I pulled out a chair across from each other and sat down.
I took in all the food laid out in front of me, my appetite gone.
Finally, the old bastard looked up from his phone, his eyes moving from Kingston to me, then back to Kingston once more, his pride and joy.
There was nothing that could make Ilya Mahankov prouder than hearing people say Kingston took after him. But I knew the truth, and so did many others in our circle, and deep down, I was sure he knew it too. Kingston was a bigger monster than he could have ever imagined becoming.
And much smarter than our old man.
“Let’s eat,” Ilya said, clapping his hands together. From the corner of my eye, I saw Mom flinching at the sudden sound. I didn’t react, and neither did Kingston, though I was sure he didn’t miss that.
No one touched anything until the old bastard took his first bite.
A show of power for him.
And everyone around was just ready to humor him for it.
My fist clenched around my fork, and I quickly shoved a piece of chicken in my mouth, barely tasting it.
I couldn’t fucking wait for the dinner to be over.