“V, what’s going on?” my ex-mentor asks.
Cheekbones that could slice through veins. Stubble that sculpts his chin. Full cupid-bow lips that beg to be kissed. I know from past gigs when we’ve shared hotel rooms that he has a butterfly tattoo on his chiseled chest. He never told me what it meant. I trace the outline of it now through his t-shirt.
“Men don’t rescue me. I rescue myself. When it does happen, I must admit it’s a huge turn-on. I’m practically frothing at the mouth for a real man to take control of me,” I say.
The boys were wrong.
Dante is the Angel of Death, not me.
With a sigh, I lean in and rest my head on his chest.
“V,” he warns. There’s so much warning in that one letter.
Dante is every girl’s wet fucking dream.
Too bad…I hate him.
I pull back. Dante’s gun is in my hands. I point it at his head. The look on his face is worth it.
“What did you say earlier? Pretty damn perfect?” I say. “Mind if I borrow this for a while?”
“You don’t want to do this,” he says, blue eyes dark and unreadable.
“Didn’t you say this was my show?”
He holds up his hands, mouth twitching at the corners. “You still don’t trust me?”
“Trust is earned, not bought,” I say. “Now, where is Adrien?”
“I told you. He’s in the other building. But I wouldn’t try this alone if I were you.”
I narrow my eyes and snort. “What are you talking about? I do every fucking thing alone.”
I usher Dante back into the basement stairwell and lock him in. Then I cease worrying about him and make my way to the other building to find my father.
There are two parts to his estate. The main house, and my father’s office when he’s not in the city. Dante could be telling the truth. Why would he lie? Still, I don’t fancy going to kill my father without a weapon and with Dante at my back.
Once I put a bullet in Adrien’s head, I’m walking away from this fucked-up life. I’m so done with this bullshit. I don’t even care about my family name, or fortune. The government can take it all. Asking Dante to kill my father was a mistake. I know that now. No one can kill the bastard but me. It has to be me. As it was always meant to be.
I’m better off alone.
I need no one.
Outside my father’s office is an empty corridor. That’s strange. Where are his men? There should be someone here at all times, or at least that’s how it was when I lived here. I shudder at the memory. It was a long time ago, but it feels like yester-fucking-day.
Fuck, the drugs have kicked in, but not fast enough.
Gingerly, trying not to wince, I stalk toward the office. On the other side of the door, I can hear him talking to someone, so I know he’s in there. I promised my mother before she broke down that I was never coming back. This place was my history, not my fucking future. I’m doing this for her, and for me. I’m doing this to be free.
Kicking down doors in reality never fucking works, so I open the door the normal way. It swings wide and I see him as he sees me. He’s behind his desk on the phone. As soon as our eyes connect, he pauses mid-sentence to whoever he’s talking to.
“Hello, Adrien,” I say, stepping into the room, keeping the gun aimed right at him. He doesn’t react, so I stop halfway in. Adrenaline spikes and inside I’m holding back a scream. Dante trained me to be ruthless.
So this is what I’m being.
“Do it,” he says, in a soft, dangerous voice. It’s the voice that gave me nightmares for years. I stare at him and will myself to end him for good.
I don’t hesitate to kill. It’s not who I am, but with him staring at me, I’m frozen in place. All the monsters I’ve tried to escape, my past, my tormentors, are embodied in him. All the hate and rage, my own monster that comes creeping, stem from him.
Killing him is easier said than done. I readjust my grip on the gun, ignoring the rise of panic making it slick in my trembling in my hands.
He snorts. “You can't, can you?”
“Oh I can,” I say, sucking in a breath, pulling the damn trigger. “Goodbye, Father.”
It’s the first and last time I’ll ever call him that to his face.
CHAPTER 2
VIOLA
Nothing happens.
The chamber clicks like it’s empty.
I try again.
Click, click, click.
My father takes me in as he puts his phone down. “My ever predictable, useless daughter. Did you steal that pistol from Dante?”
My senses heighten. Adrenaline rushing through me in waves. I eye his desk. There’s a fountain pen next to his notepad. I could throw the gun at him, snatch the pen, and shove it into his throat. That would stop him from talking. There’s nothing to stop me from doing all that, so why do I feel like this is a trap?
The gun hasn’t jammed. It has no bullets.
He follows my gaze. “Are you thinking of using the pen?” He leans back. “Well, go ahead. Take your best shot. But I warn you, it’ll be your downfall.”
Reluctantly, I lower my aim and glare at him. “What am I missing?”
“You’re smarter than you look,” he says nodding, eyes averting to look over my shoulder as the door opens behind me. “But not smart enough.”
I know it’s Dante behind me because he doesn’t make a sound after the door closes shut. Still, I can’t help but turn around to make sure.
Yep. It’s him. The fuckwit.
I glare at Dante, and he cocks a brow when he sees the gun dangling in my hand at my side. “I told you not to do this alone, but you wouldn’t listen.”
“Fuck off,” I snap. My one chance at killing Adrien just got smaller. Minuscule, in fact.
“Now that we’re all here, let’s get down to business. Sit.” My father orders, gesturing to the chairs in front of his desk. I don’t move. I’d rather stand. “I said sit, the both of you.”
Dante walks past me and takes a seat. After a few minutes, I do the same. I keep the gun in my lap even though it’s empty of bullets. I hate guns, but they’re a comfort when you’re surrounded by snakes.
I glance at Dante. He appears relaxed, but who knows what’s going on inside his head. Why ever did I think he was hot?
“Do you know what I’ve always said?” Adrien says.
“I’ve no fucking idea,” I retort, and I don’t.
“Loyalty is what makes family,” Adrien says. “And as much as I would love to embrace my own daughter as family, it seems you still have a lot to learn.”
“We were never a family. You made sure of that.” My father has always seen me and my mother as tools, assets, things to be owned and used. Family is a fucking illusion.
Adrien frowns, pressing his lips together. “Have you quite finished?”
I stare back at him coldly. “Just tell me what your game is.”
He sneers. “My game? You think this is a game, child?” His use of the word child makes me snort. “What’s so amusing?”
“Children are innocent. I never have been. Now tell me what the fuck is going on or I walk. Fuck family.”