“Either you tell me or there will be no deal.”
“Jesus. You sure we’re actually family?”
“Probably a mess-up in genetics.”
He chuckles, the sound easy. “Well, I’m not that opposed to spilling the truth, but it depends on whether or not you’ll hate me if you know I was the one who dug up and shed light on Creighton’s past.”
My jaw clenches, but I force the discomfort down. Deep down, I knew there would be a day when Creighton would get in touch with his past, no matter how much my father and I tried to block it.
“You’re not mad?” Lan asks slowly.
“I’ll beat you the fuck up later, but that doesn’t answer why he’s in this state.”
“Thing is, Creigh always wanted revenge, so when he found out the name of the couple who caused the demise of his family, he went after their son.”
“Is he the one who shot him?”
“Nope, his sister did. I swear to fuck, I didn’t think that Barbie doll had it in her, but then again, maybe I underestimated her, considering she’s a mafia princess.”
“A mafia princess,” I repeat, not asking a question.
Of course.
Elsa and I first met Creighton in the States when we were visiting my friend, Asher Carson. Back then, his wife, Reina, was sponsoring a three-year-old orphan in one of the organizations she runs.
He looked lifeless and scrawny and apparently escaped death by an inch.
My wife fell in love with him immediately. Up until that point, she was having these sad episodes whenever she saw children. She always wanted to give Eli a sibling, preferably a sister, but since the doctors said that her first pregnancy was a miracle and any additional pregnancies would bring certain risk to her life, I had a vasectomy.
Because there was no way in fuck I’d put her life in danger.
She understood that decision, but she cried anyway. She was depressed for a whole month after I killed her hopes for another child of our own, and while I hated seeing her like that, I never regretted the procedure.
We’d never thought about adoption prior to hearing about Creighton, partly because the topic of children made Elsa depressed, and I honestly didn’t think I could care for someone who wasn’t my flesh and blood.
But that was before we met Creighton.
When Elsa looked at him with those motherly eyes, I didn’t think twice before asking her if she wanted the child to be her own.
I’ve never seen my wife so irrevocably happy than in that moment. The look in her eyes rivaled with the way she looked at me on our wedding day and when Eli was born.
But we understood that Creighton came with baggage. Reina told us that her sister, who was tied to the Russian mafia, was the one who’d entrusted him to her, and he had an ambiguous past that they weren’t willing to divulge.
I figured the reason his parents had died was because they’d pissed off the mafia, but Reina assured us that the boy had no ties whatsoever to the mob.
And I assured her that he’d only be a King going forward. No longer American, no longer alone.
He’d become my son.
“That’s not the worst of it.” Landon’s voice brings me back to the present.
“What is then?”
“She’s Creighton’s girlfriend. Or was, considering the circumstances.”
“What?”
“The one who shot him is his girl,” Lan repeats. “So the thing is, I’ve been looking into his past for some time, but I only managed to corner the guard with the right information recently. Once all the pieces of the puzzle were in place, I tried to warn Creigh away from Annika, but he was too pussy-whipped to listen. Now that I think about it, he looked more devastated finding out she’s the daughter of the people who wronged him than he was about his origins. Do you think that’s why he provoked her so she’d shoot him?”