At the end of the day, the mafia overseas is dying.
It’s literally dying.
And they’ll stop at nothing to come to the States and make sure they have a piece of what the Families here already have.
Prosperity.
Honor.
Power.
But there’s a reason they aren’t doing well, and it has to do with the stupid leadership and the ways they’ve tried to weasel into everything, yet nobody will listen to anyone who says otherwise.
It sucks.
And now I’m, yet again, stuck in the middle.
Roman grabs my hand then drops it. “You look like you need a drink of water; come with me.”
Okay, I’m literally in the kitchen, but I follow him anyway, down a dark hall, around a dark corner, and into a dark bathroom.
The door shuts behind us.
He flips on the light. “What’s going on, Del?”
“Nothing.” I lie again. “I’m fine. It’s just a lot to take in.” I smile. “Is my bodyguard really that worried?”
His face tightens almost to a painful degree. I don’t look away because if I look away, I look weak, frightened… I reveal so many things I’m not allowed to show to Roman, to anyone.
And yet, the back of my mind whispers King.
I can tell King.
But can I?
I know I can trust him, to a degree, but there’s something there, something I see, something I feel that makes me want to both run into his arms and beg him to keep me safe but shove him off a cliff for fear that he’ll be my downfall.
“Hey.” Roman crowds my space, and for the first time since falling for him, I want to back away, so I do. My shirt rides up, causing my skin to touch the marble countertop of the bathroom. It’s cold, soothing. It’s so freaking different than the way he puts his hands on my shoulders then slides them up my neck to cup my face.
He licks his lips.
He’s beautiful.
In my head, it’s always been him.
Why am I doubting so much tonight?
I swallow and lick my lips, then bite down on the bottom like an invitation. He leans his head in and presses a soft kiss to my mouth.
My bodyguard.
My savior.
My love.
I part my lips and welcome his heated kiss. I tell myself this is normal, that it’s all a game, damn near political when it comes to the mafia.
He smiles against my mouth, deepening the kiss. He tastes comforting like this is what I need. A stolen moment in the bathroom of my fiancé’s house.
I wrap my arms around him and pull him close. He smells good, but something feels off as he wraps his arms around me and lifts me onto the counter.
I attempt a laugh as I nearly fall into the sink.
A knock sounds, but I ignore it until the door shoves open and King is standing there watching us, seeing everything.
My lips are swollen, and so are Roman’s, and even though King truly knows everything and is literally a savior to me—his eyes harden.
Roman jumps away, causing me to nearly impale my ass on the faucet as I struggle to scramble to my feet.
King locks eyes with me. “It’s time for the toast.”
The tension in the bathroom is tangible, felt acutely between the three of us. Roman not wanting to toast to my new marriage, and King wishing that Roman’s spit wasn’t currently drying across my lips like a tattoo. And me…
“Yeah, sure.” I adjust my shirt then tuck my hair behind my ears.
King curses under his breath and walks fully into the bathroom, past Roman and toward me. He grabs my wrist like he knew a scrunchie would be there, then slowly lifts my hair into a low ponytail, pulling pieces of my hair to the front to frame my face.
He wraps the scrunchy twice.
For some reason, this gesture makes me want to walk into his arms, but I stay still, too afraid to give myself away, too afraid to feel what I should not be feeling, and too afraid to hurt Roman’s feelings.
King’s fingertips singe my neck—they shouldn’t. That’s all I keep thinking.
They. Shouldn’t.
Yet they do as he quickly pulls my messy hair back and turns me toward the mirror. “Put on some lip gloss; try not to blush too much.”
This is my life now.
Orders.
Demands.
I am the queen, after all.
And this man.
My King.
Chapter Seven
“Years of love have been forgot in the hatred of a minute.” —Edgar Allen Poe
King
I hate this day.
I’ll look back on it and want to puke.
I’ve done the right thing in order to do the wrong thing in honor of my family and what needs to be done, and I might actually fucking hate myself forever.
She’s just standing there, beautiful.
And I’m standing next to her with a forced smile on my face, like someone who has everything but nothing, all at the same time.
I feel Ash’s anger.
I see Junior’s annoyed stare.