Page 40 of Falling for the Enemy

The flash of cameras nearly blinds me.

A near-constant presence at events such as the one I’m attending, I should be used to it since my arrival never fails to send Charleston’s rabid press into a frenzy. Like everyone else that has ever stepped foot inside the city, they know exactly who and more importantly what I am.

The Queen of the Fallen Kings.

“Ms. Ivanova!” A man thrusts a microphone at my mask-covered face, the move a show of disrespect, that if done anywhere else, would end in a beating. Even here and now, I’m tempted to smack him with my clutch. “Is it true that since the unsolved murder of your fiancé, things between you and the DeMeo family have become strained?”

Strained? More like murderous.

“Do you have information on the whereabouts of Angelo DeMeo?” a reporter in sky-high stilettos shouts as she follows the cloth-covered rope separating the press from the masquerade’s arriving guests, fighting to keep up with me. “Sources say he was last seen boarding a private jet rumored to have been heading for Colom—”

The press’ voices dissipate, the myriad rage-inducing questions they continuously hurled at me while I walked the red carpet falling silent as I enter The Carriage Inn, bypassing the usher who tries to welcome me, his ruddy cheeks tight with a rehearsed smile.

I have no pleasantries to waste.

Possessing a limited supply of grace and patience, my saccharine manners are reserved for Charleston’s mayor, district attorney, and chief of police—the crew of dirty politicians I pay handsomely to keep the Kings’ best interest at heart.

And our noses clean of legal trouble.

It’s their group that I immediately head for, expertly navigating my way through the sea of people, each of their movements watched by Casper, who now lurks on the second-floor balcony after having arrived via a back entrance.

I’m almost to the dance floor, nearly halfway to the reserved tables that line the far wall when my eyes crash into a pair I never expected to glimpse again. At the sight, an invisible train crashes into my chest, wrenching oxygen from my lungs.

Alejandro.

I come to a sudden stop, my heart hammering against my ribs as I take him in from head to toe, the sharp tux and black mask he wears failing to conceal his identity.

He’s breathtaking. Remarkably so.

As handsome as he is, however, the sight of him lights my skin on fire, the anger that detonates within me piercing my insides like shrapnel. I told the durak to leave, even warned him of what would happen if he stayed.

Yet he remains.

And he’s in my territory.

“Such a foolish man...”

Ignoring the curious stares of both the mayor and chief of police, I charge forward, the temptation to choke the fatuity out of the kingpin who’s quickly becoming the bane of my existence nearly impossible to contain.

Following my lead, he moves as well.

It’s in the middle of the crowded dance floor, surrounded by members of Charleston’s upper crust and wrapped in a cloud of their flowery perfume and expensive cologne that we meet, our bodies nearly colliding.

“I told you to leave.”

Despite my obvious anger, he smiles. It’s infuriating. “I never have listened well.” Gaze roaming over me, he circles me once, his appreciation for what he sees apparent on his hunger-stricken face. “Your dress is beautiful, Manzana.”

Coming to a stop before me, he licks his lower lip, the sight making my belly flip. I need to learn to control such feelings, no matter how exhilarating, before he gains the ability to make my thighs quake. “But it would be even more beautiful shredded and lying on my bedroom floor.”

The man is a menace.

“You’re truly going to force me to kill you, aren’t you?”

He wraps a lock of my curled hair around his finger, sending a shiver racing down my spine. “Only if I don’t kill you first.”

A guttural sound emits from deep in my throat. “Explain why you’re here.” I take a deep breath, replenishing the air the sight of him ripped from me. “This is your only chance to do so before I—”

“I’m protecting you.”

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