“He can’t kill me.”
“He’s killed lots of people—I’m sure he can.”
“I hope he tries. Would give me the opportunity you’ve denied me.”
He stripped off his jacket and tossed it on the floor before he sat back. One ankle propped on the opposite knee as his arm rested over the back of the couch. He took a lazy scan of his living room as he sat there, the three glasses of scotch already making his eyes sag slightly. “I have a lot of shit on my plate right now, Benton. Don’t have time for this bullshit.”
“Then let me kill him.”
“He’s worthless if he’s dead.”
“Kill him and absorb his business.”
He shook his head. “Too much work. Our current setup is lucrative enough. And I’ve got other plans.”
“Like?”
He gave me a cold look. “I’m afraid if I tell you, you’ll take his girl too.”
“I have a girl.”
He rolled his eyes. “How romantic…”
“What is it?”
He grabbed the glass off the table and poured another drink. Instead of taking a sip right away, he raised it slightly, as if making a toast. “The Skull King.”
As if his words were concrete, they crashed to the floor with a heavy thump. “You want to be his distributor?”
He readopted his relaxed posture, getting comfortable on the couch. “No.”
“You want him to be our distributor?”
“No.”
I shook my head. “This better not be going where I think it’s going.”
“It is.”
“That’s fucking suicide.”
He gave a shrug. “It’ll be fine.”
“Taking over the cult is too much work, but you think this is a walk in the park?”
He took a drink. “You know how much cash he’s bagging? A lot more than us.”
I shook my head in disbelief.
“We take France and Italy, and we’ll be the biggest kingpins—”
“There’s no we in this, Bartholomew.”
He was about to take a drink but steadied his glass instead. He gave me a hard look, full of ominous threat, and then sat forward again. His glass returned to the table, and he stared at me with a look that was borderline demonic. “Let’s not forget, I own you—”
“He’ll kill us all.”
“There’s always going to be causalities—”
“Maybe you don’t have something to live for, but I do. I’m out.”
“You don’t have a choice—”
“You bet your ass I do. Our rule is unchallenged here in France, but it’s a different situation across the border. He owns Florence with the same iron fist that we own Paris. This isn’t a simple conquest. This is a war that could go on for decades, that could cause a blood feud that will last generations. Not. Worth. It.”
After everything I said, his only response was a shrug.
“I’m not just saying this selfishly. I’m saying it for your benefit too. It will cost your life.”
He gave another shrug.
“Bartholomew.”
With a bored look, he regarded me.
“Look at everything we’ve accomplished here. And we still have so much to do.”
He suddenly gave me a smirk.
“What?”
He took another drink. “You said we.”
By the time I got home, it was nearly noon.
I was approaching the steps when my phone vibrated with a text.
I pulled it out and saw the message from Constance. Are you alright?
I was almost to the house, but I replied anyway. Yes.
Will you be home soon?
I shoved the phone back into my pocket and walked through the front door.
She came into the entryway the second she heard me enter. She gave me a quick look-over, as if she expected me to be covered in blood, then seemed relieved to see I was returning in the same condition as when I left. She immediately moved into me and embraced me with a hug, one arm hooking around my neck while the other hugged my waist. Her little body gave a gentle thud against mine before she latched on.
My response was automatic at this point, and my arms circled her petite frame and drew her close. My chin rested on her head as I squeezed her beautiful body against mine, my fingers digging into the fabric of her shirt. She smelled like fresh roses in summer. Her hair was soft just like Claire’s. Claire used to be the only thing I looked forward to whenever I came home, but now Constance was a close second.
She rose on her tiptoes and cupped my face as she kissed me. Her lips were hungry and had a distinct taste of scotch, like she’d had a glass with her breakfast this morning as she shook off the nerves.
My hand moved over her ass, and I squeezed it as I deepened the kiss, instantly falling into the heat we created together. It was like walking through fire.
She seemed to like it because her hands slid underneath my shirt and moved up my chest. She planted her palms against my pecs as she gave me her tongue, as she wore her need on her sleeve with desperation.
I liked her desperation.
This woman had survived a cult and killed a man to do it, but she still needed me anyway.
I got her into bed, our clothes off and our naked skin in contact. She was underneath me on the bed, and I sank deep as I looked into her eyes. This was the only way I’d taken her, and while I wanted to stare at her ass while I fucked her and shove her face into the mattress, this was the position I always found myself in.
I liked it.
I liked watching her eyes light up like beacons from a lighthouse.
I liked watching the tears pour from the corners of her eyes when she came.
I liked watching her take my big dick and beg for more.
With my arms pinned behind her knees, I took her hard and fast, slamming the headboard against the wall because there was no one else in the house to hear it. We glistened with sweat. We panted like animals. We came with loud grunts as we finished.
Then we lay there—all our pent-up stress released.
Once the heat passed, she snuggled into my side, his fingertips cold as if the short separation was enough to turn her to ice again.
I ran hot, so I relished her touch.
With her head on my shoulder and her hand on my stomach, she spoke. “What happened?”
I turned to lean my head against hers, her hair against my cheek and in the crook of my neck. “Told him to stay off my property.”
“And?”
“That’s it.”
She lay still for a moment before she propped herself up on one elbow and looked down at me. Her hair was a curtain behind her, and her makeup was smeared from the sweat and the tears. “Benton.”
“I left nothing out.”
“And he just…accepted that?”
“He doesn’t have a choice.”
“So, you really think that’s the end of it? That he’ll leave us alone?”
I couldn’t lie to her. As much as I wanted to make her feel better, I didn’t want her to drop her guard. “He still wants you.”
The light left her eyes—and it was a punch to the stomach.
“He might keep his eye on you, but he won’t come near you or come into the house while we’re away. No reason to be afraid.”