Page 14 of Malevolent King

She swallowed as her gaze darted to my face and away. Had she relived that night as often as I had? By the blush on her cheeks, I suspected she had.

“Well, a girl can dream,” she muttered.

“Sure, she can. But that doesn’t change the facts.” I finished my plate of congealed beans and put it down, the warmth from the fire making me drowsy. I rested my head against the wall.

“Which are?” Sofia’s voice felt like it was coming from far away.

“You’re still my prize, and you always will be.”

5

SOFIA

Age 17

Iwas in trouble with my father again. Tonight, I’d been cuffed roughly along the cheek for failing to respect his need for quiet after a long workday. As I’d cheerfully spoken to him about my school art project, trailing him into his office, he’d turned and hit me so hard I’d landed on the floor.

My cousin, Silvio, had found me sitting with my back to the door, my hand clamped on my cheekbone.

“What’s up, little Sofia?”

I didn’t know Silvio well. He was a good ten years older than me, and I wasn’t allowed around the made men in the family very often. He crouched to my level and looked at me with something that might have been worry in his eyes.

“Did your father do that?” he asked, his gaze lingering on my rapidly swelling cheek.

I shrugged.

Silvio chuckled. “Old bastard. Doesn’t he realize you’re not a kid anymore? How old are you now?”

“Nearly eighteen,” I muttered.

He whistled and raised an eyebrow at me. “Eighteen? All woman.”

I squirmed at his attention on me, and not in a good way. I felt uncomfortable and on display and wished I could be in my room.

Silvio stared at his watch and clicked his tongue. “You know what makes you feel better in this kind of situation? Breaking rules. I’m going to a party. Want to come?”

I blinked at him. I could never go to parties, and besides, I didn’t have any friends who would invite me. It was difficult to make friends when you had bodyguards waiting for you outside school.

“Antonio will never let me,” I protested, wishing I could go anyway.

I wasn’t particularly comfortable with Silvio, but he was my cousin, and the thought of going out to a party with other people was too enticing. Sometimes I felt so lonely, locked in the mausoleum of Casa Nera, I thought I might go insane.

“So, we won’t tell him. We won’t take any bodyguards either. I’ll look after you,” he said and smiled.

It wasn’t a reassuring sight, but the desire to go out and be normal for a night was too strong.

“Okay,” I whispered.

I stood with his help, and Silvio’s shark-like smile followed me out of the room.

* * *

Whatever I’d expected,going to party in a real live club in New York City was not it. The place was downtown, and Silvio walked into the flashy building like he owned it. Maybe he did, for all I knew. I avoided eyes in the line as we passed them by and entered the club.

I tugged the hem of my dress down. It felt too short, even if it was perfectly modest. Antonio disapproved of short skirts for his daughter, only for the endless procession of women he brought home, so I had few options to wear. However, I had customized a tight sheath of a dress by cutting the hem. It rode up my thighs as I followed Silvio closely down a steep staircase to an underground level.

Low music and the hum of conversation reached my ears when we made it down, and I looked around. The dimly lit room was hazy with smoke, and there were poker tables laid out, each filled with men. Some turned and nodded to Silvio when we entered.

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