Page 63 of King of Sinners

“I’m staying here,” I repeat by way of answer. This is not up for debate. There is no way I’m leaving her.

The phone dings and I pull it out to see the police have arrived.

“If anyone asks, Charlotte is Charlotte Kincaid. Even if the Italians know she’s here, we’re not making her last name public and every man who learns her identity will know that she is mine. Messing with her means messing with me.”

Charlotte starts against me, and Jake’s eyebrows rise, but I don’t care. My priorities have never been clearer.

The next two hours are a long parade of police officers and firefighters, the building being declared safe.

The floors under me are apartments that are still shells or are built out but are empty. At some point, I’ll sell them off but, as the only current resident, the building is easy to check for damage.

When Luke, Jake, and Roman leave, I kiss Charlotte and head to my study, beginning the process of reaching out to the other families. No one knows anything, of course. And everyone is so pleasant on the phone.

Except for one man…

Toni Carcetti sounds as smug as a man possibly can. Yeah, I know the fucker lit the bomb. And I’ll add this one to his list of debts.

The Dukes swear to help in any way they can. The Russians are cordial but cold.

I expected that. I, however, make it known to each of them that information will be highly rewarded by means of debt forgiveness or increased real estate, and that silence will mean debts are called in, traffic to their establishments cut off.

Everyone in this town owes me money. Everyone. I made sure of that a long time ago and I’ll use it to my advantage now.

I don’t mention the tunnel. I don’t have to. They all know by now and I don’t need to be specific. That will come later when I really start applying the pressure.

As I talk, I hear Charlotte about the apartment. She’s humming as she works, restoring order to the chaos. The vacuum runs for close to an hour before things finally go silent.

But listening to her actually sharpens my focus. I think back to her tiny apartment, the one made beautiful, and I know she’s out there reordering our home as I make certain we are safe.

It’s a different version of Charlotte tending a home, and yet somehow exactly what I pictured in that moment when I’d stepped into her little place. The rest of Vegas, my brother Leo, they have not begun to see how hard I’ll fight to preserve her world, our world.

Leaving my study, I head toward her room, the apartment already spotless. I stop and take it in, every surface is clean, and the dinner I never ate is packed away. I pull out the container taking several bites, the food excellent even cold and covered in a bit of drywall.

Stuffing the rest back in the fridge, I make my way into her room just as the shower turns on. Who needs more food. I’ve got Charlotte for dinner. “Princess?” I call before I open the door.

“Mason? In here,” she calls back. I walk in just in time to see her tipping her head back into the spray, her arms over her head, her tits on full display.

For a moment I just drink her in. She’s gorgeous like this and I just watch as she begins washing her hair. She catches my gaze and gives me a soft smile.

I need to move her into the other bedroom with me. Get the rest of her stuff from her place. But that is a problem for a quieter time.

I shrug my shirt off, not waiting for an invitation. This is my woman and I have every intention of fully and completely claiming her.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Charlotte

Something was different with Mason tonight, but I wasn’t sure what had changed. He always touched me, but today…

His hands have been all over me since he’s been home. And when he’d worried I’d been hurt as he’d touched me everywhere multiple times.

Even in front of his family, I’d been crushed against him the entire time. I don’t know much about dating, but I suspect that men who didn’t care do not take such pains to be close, especially if something else might have drawn away their attention.

Something like a bombing.

The absurdity of that washed over me even as I tipped my head back in the water. Was I the target? Or had my association with Mason brought even more trouble my way? Was that even possible?

Without him, I’d likely be dead.

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