“Yes, Your Majesty,” he trembled.
I pulled the gun away from his head and he took in a shaky breath.
“If you aren’t able to produce results, Mr. Diego, I’m going to come back for you. I won’t show you mercy next time. Am I clear?” I asked, and he stiffened.
“I understand completely, Your Majesty,” he whispered. I watched as his hands shook.
“I’m glad to hear that we’ve come to an understanding. Now to the rest of you, start looking for solutions immediately. If my money isn’t returned to my accounts within one week, I’m going to return, and the result of that conversation is going to end very differently than it did today for all of you. Do you all understand me?”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” the round table responded in unison.
My men and I stood for a long moment and I met the eyes of every person sitting at that table. I made a note of every face, how each of them was quivering with the power of their fear.
I liked that.
It meant I was doing my job.
I was king.
It was time they remembered what that meant.
Chapter One
Isabella De Luca
I leaned against the bar and swirled my glass around, listening as the ice cubes clinked against the edges. There was no getting around it. I was bored. And disappointed. And undeniably frustrated with the events that had unfolded over the past few hour
s. I had been looking forward to going out with my girls tonight, but all of them cancelled. Every last one.
I sighed.
They’d given me excuses. Sophie had feigned sickness, but she probably just buried herself in a book instead. Elena had said she needed to study, but I knew finals weren’t until next week, so it was the lamest cop-out ever. Ariana had ghosted me, and I was pretty sure she was just meeting up with some guy on Tinder instead of coming out dancing with me. Some fucking friends they were.
It was the last night we would all be together since the term was ending and finals were so soon. One last chance to dance the night away before our time as graduate students came to an end and I had to return to America, and they’d ruined it. They’d ruined everything.
I’d been pissed, but I’d gotten dressed up anyway because I’d bought the cutest little black number in downtown Rome earlier today and I had wanted to wear it. The music was pounding loud all around me, but I’d found a sheltered corner of the bar so when I ordered a sangria I could hear the bartender quite clearly.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a man in a suit glance in my direction. I didn’t even have to look to know that he was walking toward me. He leaned against the bar next to me, his own drink glass empty. He tilted the glass at the bartender and the man just nodded in acknowledgement, before climbing a small ladder and retrieving what I assumed was the most expensive bottle of whiskey in this place.
This man was well off. That was promising. Maybe this night didn’t have to suck after all. A girl could enjoy a couple of free drinks.
“A pretty girl like you should be drinking a glass of expensive champagne and not the well sangria they serve in this joint. Let me buy you a drink,” he said next to me, leaning his body toward mine.
I could drink some free champagne.
I turned my head toward him, assessing him rather brazenly. His suit was impeccably pressed. I didn’t know much about designers for men or anything like that, but if I had to guess, he was wearing something that cost him at least several thousand dollars or even more than that. His cufflinks were brilliantly red glittering gemstones. He didn’t seem like the kind of man who would wear cubic zirconium, so if I was a gambling woman, I’d bet those were real rubies. And they were big. At least five carats in size. Not big enough to be ostentatious, but large enough to make a statement.
He was Italian, likely from somewhere local. His hair was a dark mahogany and well groomed. His chin was lined with thick but well-trimmed facial hair. To be honest, he kind of reminded me of a movie star, although maybe more subdued. He had a quiet kind of power that made me curious.
Most of all, though, his eyes promised more, a way to make this lame ass night more interesting. Least of all, I’d get a few drinks out of it or maybe even dinner. Best case scenario, maybe tonight would end with me having a few orgasms in his bed. It had been a long time since anyone wined and dined me, so what was the harm in having a little fun?
I already had my plane ticket booked to head back home to New York. My time in Rome as an exchange student was coming to an end and I planned to move in with my best friend from back home. So, whatever happened tonight would be a one-time thing.
It could be fun.
Why the fuck not?
“Sure. I’d love a glass,” I smiled warmly, and he grinned, his own eyes sparkling in triumph.