Page 48 of The Merciless King

CHAPTER TWELVE

BRAXTON

Jesus fucking Christ. Not only am I in Frank “The Fire” Baldassare’s house. I’m alone with him in his office. Well, that and two of the guards standing outside the internal doors and the glass doors outside.

It’s terrifying and yet thrilling.

Mostly terrifying.

Part of me wants to take a selfie and send it to Decker, the other part wants to stay alive.

Still...it’s tempting.

Gianna was incredible. That woman is as brave as she is beautiful. If she wasn’t the mafia princess, I would consider myself lucky to have her as my girlfriend. She’s sexy as hell in bed and the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.

Her skin is flawless, her eyes bewitching, and her body is sinful. It’s not hard to pretend I’m in love with her.

Frank offers me a cigar and I decline.

He grunts.

Then takes about four hours—or so it feels—to light one for himself while I stand feeling like I’m in the principal’s office.

Finally, the flame is put out with a flick of his wrist, and he watches me from across the room as he blows out a huge plume of smoke.

“Cuban,” I say, recognizing the smell.

“Behike,” he says, holding the tobacco up. “Box of these could buy a suburban wagon in the United States.”

Wow.

I nod, unimpressed.

“So,” Frank says, taking a seat in a leather armchair, not inviting me to do the same. “What is it you really want?”

The million-dollar question.

The Dark Kings and I went over this. It was anticipated he would confront me, wondering what is behind my interest in his daughter.

I remind myself of the character I’m playing and walk to the other chair and lower myself into it.

I cross my legs.

Relaxed as fuck.

“Until today, your daughter,” I reply.

He takes another drag and watches me like a hawk. The smoke he blows out reaches me, almost making me cough.

I don’t.

“Continue,” he orders me.

This man has death on his hands and in his eyes. He wouldn’t hesitate to kill me should he choose.

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