Page 108 of The Merciless King

At least he hasn’t taken my phone.

We drive through the dark streets, and I’ve lost track of where we are. I don’t have a clue, but it’s not Scarsdale anymore. Gone are the beautiful homes and tree-lined streets. Replaced with a more industrial landscape.

Asking isn’t on the cards, nor should I be interested. I’m here just to inspect the crop, so to speak, and nothing more.

I stay quiet while the guys in the front make small talk, mostly talking shit and smoking cigarettes.

“So, what is your buyer looking for?” Salvatore asks, his legs spread, a heavy watch glittering in the dark cab of the SUV.

“Quality. Beauty,” I say, keeping it simple as I glance at Dante, who sits opposite of me.

“This shipment has sat for longer than usual as our buyer let us down,” Salvatore says. “Something they won’t do again.”

Christ. I grin as if I find the idea humorous. “I bet.”

He laughs.

Dante stays quiet.

I’m fucking nervous with him so close to me, I’ll be honest.

“Beauty. What does that mean to the Europeans?” Salvatore asks. As if he is still assessing if I’m trustworthy, or maybe he’s doing market research.

Which makes me want to barf.

I shrug. “Eye of the beholder, as they say. But not so much the blue-eyed blonde American look we prefer here.”

Fuck.

As soon as the words leave my mouth, I realize my mistake. Amy meets that description in every way. Sweetheart lips, long lashes, and sweeping blonde hair.

Goddamn it.

“It’s not my preference,” Dante says, seeming to look out into the distance.

I glance at Salvatore, and he shakes his head. I’m missing something here, but I don’t fucking care. All I want is Amy and to see these assholes behind bars.

However, I’m naturally curious and can’t help wonder if I was a friend of Dante’s—he is only a few years younger than me—if I might be poking into that comment deeper.

So, I do.

Because if this is about a chick, I’d rather be talking about that than getting deeper into the lies of my cover, where I could slip up.

“Oh yeah. Someone in particular?” I ask, smirking.

Dark eyes turn to me. “No.”

Yeah, there is.

“Come on, clearly I’m into your sister, so I promise not to poach her,” I say.

Dante’s glare darkens further.

Holy hell, this guy scares me more than his father, and I honestly can’t say why. It’s clear, whoever this woman is, Dante Baldassare is in madly love with her. I’d go as so far to say obsessed.

She should run.

“If you lay a finger on Adelina, I will kill you,” he growls, showing his unstable and cheerful personality. “Slowly.”

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