Page 24 of The Casella King

His nostrils flare as he listens.

“One night, I woke up to the sound of their screams echoing through the hall…” I shift in his lap, the memory overwhelming me. “I walked out of my bedroom, afraid because they were shouting and just wanted comfort from my mother. Then I saw her kneeling on the floor, clutching her jaw, blood splattered all over her blouse.”

“How old were you?”

My lip wobbles as my heart breaks for the child in me. “Seven, I think.”

He captures my lips with his. “Do not waste a single tear on inferior men like your father, sweetheart.” His lips hover over mine, his arms wrapping around me. “We are all broken in our own way, and it’s up to us to decide if it’s worth staying broken or to mend those cracks and fortify them.”

“When I met you at that wedding, I saw something in you that I see in myself…” His eyes graze down to my chest slowly and back up to meet my eyes. “I saw a woman who had been dealt a hand in life and played the cards to her will. It’s time you realise the power that you have.”

Thunder cracks in the sky outside as I lay here awake, alone with my thoughts. After our talk, Aries drifted off to sleep in my arms, and I let her be because the truth is, I want her to remain in my arms. My mind floats back to London and what my men would be doing right now, running in shipments, searching for a way to make the Brayfords beg for our forgiveness. The problem with the mafia is once you’re in, there is no out. There are no second chances, and there’s definitely no freedom. You learn this at a young age as you grow into the family and uncover the secrets hidden within generations. I never considered wanting a way out because I know deep within me, it’s who I am meant to be.

A feared leader.

I don’t mind being that for our family, but what rubs me the wrong way is when someone blatantly disrespects our power. The same power we’ve held for years. Someone always wants a bigger piece of the pie, no matter what their share is already. The world we’re a part of is filled with greed, and there isn’t anythingin the world that will change that. We take what we want when we want it.

I feel Aries stir within my arms as she murmurs something. It’s always been this way for me, unable to sleep, plagued with the thoughts of the future. Right now, it’s my father’s revenge, but tomorrow or the next day, it’ll be something different. There’s never a moment when everything is just.

“Why?” Aries mumbles as she begins to sob, and it isn’t until I look down that I notice she’s still dreaming.

I shift beside her, turning to my side, tucking her hair behind her ears. “Sweetheart?”

She slowly opens her eyes as tears stream out of them, realising she was dreaming. I grit my teeth, wanting to know everything that’s going through her mind, even her subconscious. I want to know her. I want to know what’s making her feel this way, even in her sleep.

“Want to tell me what that was about?” I ask, hoping she will open up to me.

“It’s not important,” she whispers as she wipes away her tears.

I decide not to push her, even though I want to be the one dominating her dreams, instead of whatever is plaguing her.

She scoots closer to me, burying her head beneath my chin, into my neck, and I slide my arm over her waist, pulling her in closer. After what seems like endless hours have passed, I finally drift off to sleep.

The ice in my glass clinks as I bring my cocktail glass to my mouth for a sip, my eyes never leaving Ezra for a minute as he sits directly in front of me. The rest of our stay in the cabin consisted of plenty of hot sex, shower sex, bed sex, wood sex, every single sex you can possibly imagine. It wasn’t that the sex was bad with my ex. It’s that it lacked something, something that I knew should be there but wasn’t. The problem was that I was too afraid to speak up, to let him know that I wanted more, more excitement, more passion, justmore. I was never one to believe sex like this could exist, let alone happen to me, but here I am, sitting across from the King, in his plane, heading back to his house, planning a fucking wedding all the whilst sleeping with him. My pussy aches, just like he promised. I feel the heat in my cheeks as I think about all the ways he had his way with me, and how I enjoyed every fucking moment of it.

No, stop it.

It’s just sex.

Really hot, passionate, dirty, sex.

And that’s all it’s going to be.

I put my cocktail down, watching as he sits there, on his phone, wearing his black jeans, black button-up shirt, his chain peeking through the open V of his shirt. His eyes meet mine, catching me.

Shit.

He winks, returning to doing whatever he was doing on his phone.

God help me.

“So, how does this work again? We just show up to dinner, eat, and then what?” I ask, fiddling with the hem of my skirt.

His dark eyes look up to me, softening. “Let’s get one thing straight, sweetheart. I don’t give afuckwhat anyone thinks about this marriage. It’s fucking happening…and if anyone decides to cross me, I’ll show them why I cover my face with the mask of the King.” A sly grin forms on his face. “I’m not taking you to this dinner for them to approve because this marriage is happening whether they like it or not.”

At least when we get back to the UK, I can get back to working, something that always remains constant in my life. No matter how great or shitty my life seems to be going, at least I’ll always have work to fall back on, to distract me, and right now, I need the distraction from Ezra. The more I let myself get close to him, the more I feel myself changing. I feel myself starting to wonder some dangerous things, like, what would be so bad about wanting Ezra?

What would be so bad about being in his life permanently?

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