Page 117 of Ruthless Kings of Havoc

The bullet was released from one of the guns in Hannah’s possession, the bullet hitting a white vase in the corner of the room. The vase is familiar. Like the ones in Leighton’s estate, leaving me to realize it was the only one in this room.

Meaning it was placed.

“My apologies,” Hannah begins. “I thought I saw a movement behind the maze.”

It’s the most unapologetic way of saying it, but it’s only mockingly hilarious because this woman is blind.She’s wearinga blindfold!How would she even see movement when her vision is but darkness?

Which concludes… it was on purpose.

The backup plan.

I can’t figure out whether to laugh or cry in relief because Domino lost, not because he couldn’t take being sucked off by a man. He failed because he didn’t expect the unexpected.

Didn’t believe his brother would do anything to ensure he lost.

“Wow.” Marcus is the first to let the words out. “You planned that all along.” The accusation is said out of surprise, as though he’s blown away that Matteo had a backup plan as cunning and unexpected as frightening us all with a loud noise that would force us to flinch and lead to Domino’s failure.

“That’s what you have to do in this world,” Matteo declares as he lowers his empty glass and ensures both his hands are gripping my thighs. “When you want to protect what’s truly precious to you, you’ll do anything to secure your hold on that valuable possession.”

He further grips me then, validating his point as he leans against me and presses a firm kiss to my right cheek.

“You hurt what I’ve always deemed mine. Consistently belittled. Constantly tortured. Invited opportunities for her to be humiliated, even if it was before her own father. Your selfishness and lack of awareness are what you take pride in. I decided it was time for you to meet someone who would pull all the stops to not only get what I want but to keep what I’ve always deserved.”

His hand abandons my thigh after gripping it hard enough for my flesh to begin to blemish, but he’s directing my head back enough for him to greedily kiss me.

Kiss me deep, hard, and loudly.

I can barely catch my breath when he’s given me a moment to grasp air, and I see how his hand wraps around the front ofmy neck, portraying the vivid mark he placed on his flesh on our behalf.

My behalf…

“Let me revalidate my claim,” he declares loud and boldly. “Eva is mine. My wife, our Ruthless Maiden, and you’ll be forced to watch her become the first Ruthless Queen of Leighton Royals University to lay that final move on this chessboard.” He smiles wholeheartedly with a boyish excitement twinkling in those dangerous, dark red eyes.

“Checkmate.”

He lowers his eyes to Domino’s hand, which further encourages that smile to spread like a venomous villain who sets all his plans in motion.

“Now, if we’re done playing games, we’d like to enjoy our breakfast in peace.”

As if that’s the cue, six maids rush into the room, bringing various plates, utensils, and trays of hot food. Within a minute, our table is not only cleared from our glasses of various alcoholic beverages but in its place is an array of various breakfast plates, each of us having a very generous portion of each cooked meal—eggs, avocado toast, Greek yogurt berry parfait, and a various mix of sausage, bacon, turkey bacon, and ham. Coffee is being served, and Matteo is the first to say his preference.

“Black is fine.”

There’s something about the way he says it that reminds me of something from years ago.

“My eldest doesn’t like black coffee,”Leighton mutters into a phone as his back is facing me. I stand there, in wait, counting down the seconds, yet too intrigued by the conversation he’s having with whoever is on the other end. “Unless he’s having dessert after, give him a double-double.”

The memory leaves just as fast, forcing me to let my question out before it fades.

“You don’t like black coffee,” I declare.

Every eye of attention is on me, but my focus is solely on Matteo as he pauses to take a sip of his coffee while his chin is an inch above my shoulder.

“You’re right,” he announces, sounding beyond pleased that I even know such. “But I’m planning to have dessert before we head out.”

“What are you having?” I’m intrigued to know what he likes, a new fascination to discover every bit of this man. Of Matteo Leighton and not simply my Bunny Stalker and Ruthless King.

I want to know everything about this man… especially if we have the intention of marrying before this world that seeks our downfall.

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