Page 111 of Ruthless Kings of Havoc

I want to answer correctly, but I remember clearly out of the three men. It was the elderly one who explained the rooted definition of the cigar’s origins and who enjoyed getting the first inhale.

If it’s not Mr. Prescott and not Mr. Leighton…

“Saint Joaquin.” The name comes out as a realization because it makes sense now. Why Mother was emphasizing how he was her ‘Sugar Daddy’ in a sense and how he couldn’t simply sacrifice his lifestyle to appease his love for her.

And I guess that’s exactly why Emma doesn’t know who her real father is…

“Correct,” he praises and offers me to take an inhale of the exquisite tobacco. When I hesitate, he adds, “What’s mine is yours, Precious.”

That encourages me to hold the cigar as if it’s the same weight as a brick of gold. It’s definitely heavy, which is a bit of a mindfuck, but taking a deep inhale of the luxurious smoke invites a unique sensation. Blowing it out slowly, I admire the aroma as well as the taste of my mouth. It’s not ‘disgusting’ or carries an odd aftertaste.

In fact, it’s nice.

The effects of it are more inviting, giving a wave of relaxation. It makes me wonder what else is infused to make it have almost an immediate effect.

“Like it?” he asks in wait.

I’m sure the maids, servers, and my Ruthless Kings are all waiting for my answer.

I’m smirking.

“It’s delightful,” I admit. “Makes you crave to always smoke this and nothing else.”

“Exactly,” he praises. “That’s why when you claim a title of superiority in this world, you’d do anything to keep it that way. Whether it’s rank, position, or money, you’ll fight with all your might to keep those doors of opportunity and grace to remain open.”

He takes the cigar from me after I take another go at it, then returns his attention to Domino.

“Which is one of the points of this confrontation, little brother,” he states firmly and lifts the cigar in his grasp. “Last time I checked, I was innocently sitting at the breakfast table with my fellow Ruthless Kings and our guest, Mr. Wright, enjoying a cigar with my Ruthless Maiden on my lap.” He lets his summary settle in the air. “Right, everyone?”

The multiple ‘Yes, Sir’ is enough proof to validate the picture he’s painting for Domino to understand.

“I’m not holding a gun in my grasp. I’m not forcing Mr. Mallon to suck you off. All I did was give you a challenge that you confidently accepted,” he concludes and dares to smile fully.

I can feel the looming dread forming in Domino’s eyes, yet he’s fighting every bit for it not to show on his masked expression that fights to remain stoic.

“In fact, let’s make it more dramatic,” he offers and looks at someone on the right.

The tall male figure bows his head quickly and moves to retrieve something. When he returns, he holds a glass box. It’s a small glass rectangle that, on further inspection, looks like a coffin. The man doesn’t need Matteo to say any other instructions. He quickly is at Domino’s side, taking the phone in his grasp and placing it in the glass coffin.

Domino has no choice but to remain still because the barrel of the gun is still present against the side of his head.

The server pulls out liquid in a small perfume bottle. He adds just a few drops around the interior space and closes the lid.

“What are you doing?” Domino demands.

“Making things more interesting,” he hums in delight and sighs. “Now, if you drop that, the glass will shatter, emphasizing your loss.”

I’m more intrigued by what he put in there.

“And what’s the perfume supposed to do? Make your dining hall smell more like that slut on your lap?”

I’m not sure how to feel about him continuously taking jabs at me. I know he’s been so used to aiming his anger at me, but this feels different, as though he’s intentionally doing it to piss Matteo off more than me.

“It’s funny how you’re about to be sucked by a man, and your goal is to continue insulting my wife,” Matteo counters. He’s not falling for whatever Domino’s trying to pull. “It’s a form of desperation I’ve never witnessed before.”

“I can win this challenge!” Domino snaps.

“Then stop wasting our time, and let’s see you put actions in those weak affirmations of yours,” Matteo suggests with a slight tilt of his head.

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