Page 4 of Malevolent King

The good news was that fewer people were around to wonder why I was walking up the driveway instead of being driven up by Angelo. Chiara better appreciate my effort to ensure she got time alone with my big, burly guardian.

I skirted around the entrance to Casa Nera and headed for the garage. The one person I knew would be home was Carmella, the housekeeper. If I came in from the front door, and not the garage entrance, she’d know something was up. She’d missed her calling as a detective.

I punched the code into the keypad, and entered the garage. It was dark inside, and I fumbled in my pocket for my phone’s flashlight. Turning the lights on kick-started a noisy generator and didn’t fit with my undercover mission of getting inside without my illicit solo cab ride being discovered. The smell of grease and gas met my nose, oily and addictive. I’d always loved the smell of gas stations, lowering the window in the back when I was a kid, watching my father’s driver gassing up the car just to catch any stray fumes, despite my mother fussing that it was bad for me.

Like so many things that felt good, knowing they were bad for you only made it better.

Today, there was another note to the smell-something sharp, like fire and metal.

My flashlight flicked on, and I raised it. The garage was huge, taking up nearly the entire mansion floor. Luxury cars with enough bullet-proofing to protect a president sat under covers, unmoving sleeping beasts. I started through the cavernous space, my boots echoing on the concrete floor. As I reached one of the vehicles, I paused, surprised to see the doors hanging open.

The interior was too dark to make out, but the way the shiny SUV’s doors were gaping was an unusual sight. I drew closer cautiously. The trunk was open as well.

Tension notched down my spine, sending gooseflesh rippling out from the point of contact.

Something wasn’t right.

Dark red puddles were illuminated as I pointed my phone at the ground.

Blood.

I took another step forward, a scream climbing up my throat, rushing toward my mouth. Carmella would hear and call for help. Carmella was always listening, always on guard.

The scream never left me.

Instead, a hard hand clamped hard over my lips, a rigid body pressed into me from behind, and a steely arm banded across my waist.

I was rigid with shock. No one touched me. Not my one best friend, not my father, no one. No casual arms were slung around my shoulders. No warm embraces, high-fives, or nudges came my way. I was a doll encased in glass. No one had ever dared to break my father’s rules and touch me, except one man - the one who haunted my dreams as often as he haunted my nightmares.

My attacker towered over me, clearly male from the boundless strength in his muscled arms. I screamed against his hand, and a low chuckle sounded in my ear as warm breath hit my skin through my hair.

“Sofia,” a deep, growly voice murmured in my ear.

I was completely immobile against him, held first by his strength, and second, my terror.

He rubbed his nose through my hair, and his hard chest expanded deeply, pushing firmly against the back of my head. “Sofia De Sanctis. Have you missed me,lastochka?”

Fear beat up my throat, stealing my voice.

The new “guest” at Casa Nera wasn’t Kirill Chernov, the cold, calculating heir to his father’s bratva. It was the violent, unpredictable psychopath he called his half-brother. Contender for the throne, and the only man who had ever dared to trespass on my father’s property and touch me.

Nikolai Chernov. In the flesh.

* * *

My shockand terror lasted a few seconds before I jerked out of my frozen state and fought him. He grunted when my elbow connected with his side, and he hauled me around to trap me against the wall.

My phone fell, clattering on the floor, the flashlight still on. The beam of light angled upward as Nikolai pressed my face into the wall, his forearm resting across the back of my neck. He moved his face next to mine, meeting my eyes for the first time. I couldn’t get used to how close he was. My skin hummed at the sensation of being touched by another, even like this. It was as if I’d been slowly turning into a ghost that haunted Casa Nera, and now, Nikolai’s punishing grip had brought me back to life.

“Now, that’s no way to greet me. Don’t forget your manners, Sofia. It’s hardly becoming of a former prom queen,” he said, cruel amusement filling his words.

Prom queen.

The night I’d been crowned prom queen had been the most terrifying night of my life, in more ways than one, and it was all because of this man. Did he know how badly that night had fucked me up? Obviously, a man like Nikolai wouldn’t care, but that he brought it up now told me he suspected it mattered to me. Nikolai Chernov didn’t just threaten my body, he seeped into my mind, too, like a poison tainting my soul. He liked to fuck with my head as much as he threatened to fuck my body.

His face was bloodied, and he had a black eye swelling. His full lower lip was split and crusted with blood. He caught me staring at his mouth. “I’ve had quite the morning, waiting here with the bodies of the pathetic guards your father thought were a match for me, waiting for a little lamb to wander through here and help me out.”

He smirked, and my anxiety climbed back up my throat and choked me.

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