Renata
As silently as I can, I open his door. I’m not surprised when it swings inward easily. If he didn’t bother to lock me in, he’s not going to bother locking his own door.
I move quietly inside. My heartbeat is up, adrenaline coursing through my body. I’m distantly aware that this is a room fit for a king. The ceilings are high overhead, the bed in the middle of the room big enough to cartwheel across.
But my eyes aren’t on any of the rich details of this so-called “don.” I’m focused on the crack of light beneath the slightly ajar bathroom door. As I step closer, I note the thin veil of vapor pouring through. It’s chilly in here despite the steam.
My hands tighten around the crystal ornament in my hand. I get closer. Closer. Putting my shoulder to the bathroom door, I nudge it open just enough to peek inside. There’s a glass shower cubicle just inside and to the right. It’s appropriately huge for the rest of the penthouse. Two rainfall showerheads pour down onto the cream tile.
And standing beneath those showerheads is the silhouette of the man who ruined my life.
Thankfully, his back is to me. The fogged-up glass hides most of the details. He’s a blur of tanned skin and dark hair. But his outline is enough to send that heat surging through me again.
His shoulders are fucking broad. His muscles are undeniable. For a second, I think what a shame it is to kill such a perfect man.
He’s not a man, the angry voice inside my head retorts harshly. He’s a murderer.
Drago’s words start circling in my head like buzzards over roadkill. All the things he’s told me over the years about the Irish start repeating on a loop. Every insult, every accusation, every crime he’s ever laid at Kian O’Sullivan’s feet.
I’m going to kill that son of a bitch for what he’s done to us, Drago has said more times than I could ever count. But my brother has never managed to exact the revenge he wants so badly. He hasn’t managed to avenge the family honor.
Maybe I can.
Everything after that happens fast. I raise the crystal ornament like a knife. Burst through the shower door. Water and fog engulf me, but I’ve got my eye on him.
I bring the crystal down. One sharp spike glistening in the heat and humidity. Aimed straight for the back of Kian’s skull.
It hurtles through the air. Water cascades all around me.
This is for you, Papa.
This is for you, Drago.
But most of all, this is for me.
Kian turns—his eyes grow huge—
And then, to my shock and horror, his hand comes up to block the killing blow.
I scream, but it’s too late. I’m too slow and he’s too fast. His hand snakes out and seizes my wrist where it’s raw and bloody from yanking at the handcuffs. I scream again.
He twists hard. The pain takes all the strength out of my fingers, and then he slams my hand against the tile wall.
The ornament falls, falls, falls…
And explodes into a million jagged shards on the floor of the shower.
I’m trembling and drenched from head to toe. My breath is coming in pained gasps. Only now do I realize how naïve this plan was from the beginning. But the anger and hate blinded me to it. Made me think that I could do this. I should’ve just run.
Kian shoves me up against the back wall of the shower, and if I wasn’t completely drenched before, I am now. I scream a third time, but he ignores me as he gains control of the situation. I look up, past the droplets of water and fog, and see his blue eyes boring down at me.
He looks impossibly dangerous. For a second, I’m certain he’s going to strangle the life out of me here. And for a second, I’m certain that that’s what he wants, too.
But then he abruptly reconsiders. Grabbing me by the roots of my hair, he drags me from the shower. I clutch at his wrist, screaming again, but he still acts like he can’t even hear me.
We make our way into his room, thrashing everywhere, but he’s too big and too strong to resist. He hurls me inside and I fall to my hands and knees, soaking the carpet beneath my feet. I try to get up and run, but he snags my wrist once more, whirls me into him like we’re dancers, and then uses that momentum to shove me up face-first against a bare expanse of wall.
He’s on me before I can even draw a breath. Hot. Naked. Soaked.