Page 146 of King Of Order

Still, Claudio’s bullying was not going to fly with me.

Her familiar wildfire fury was rising. ‘Claudio says no one will touch his deals now, that he’s drowning in loans, and it’s all my fault. He claims he’s been trying to find me at the gallery and home to hand over whatever cash I have. Fuck him!’

Her brother losing his shit at her was driving her, me, to the edge. Lesser men had died for lesser evils.

I gritted my teeth to stop myself from whirling away, finding the fucker, and putting out his lights.

For good.

Claudio was a coward—blaming her for everything that had gone wrong, refusing any accountability, without the integrity and insight to understand the toll this whole mess had taken on her.

She didn’t need this shit to threaten her current health, to take her recovery backward.

Just then, my phone buzzed.

Pulling it out of my pocket, I jolted at the notification onscreen.

With a growl, I tapped on it, and the screen unfurled with live video footage of an unmistakable figure attempting to crash through Chiara’s front door with a machete.

‘The fuck?’

‘Rio?’

I turned to face her. ‘Got a notification that Claudio is trying to enter your front door.’

Chiara’s eyes widened.

‘Stay with Mauri and Mrs Venetio. I’m going to your place,’ I rasped, gazing into her eyes. ‘I’ll see whether I can catch him before he causes further damage. I’ll also get as many clothes, shoes, and bags as possible. You’re staying here for the conceivable future.’

She nodded, her expression fuming with frustration, and I kissed her forehead before grabbing my keys.

Half hoping I’d find Claudio somewhere along the way so I’d give him my brand of common freakin’ sense.

When I arrived at her house, the sight that greeted me made my blood boil.

It had taken over an hour to get there, and the journey was hampered by traffic, reckless driving, and wild motorcycles and scooters.

Time enough for some severe damage to be done.

The front door was ajar, and the wood splintered near the lock.

The interior was messed up when I pushed it open like a storm blew through.

Furniture lay overturned, papers scattered everywhere, drawers pulled out and emptied.

I walked through the chaos, my pulse pounding in my ears.

The bastard must’ve come here looking for money or something he thought Chiara was hiding.

His rage had caused him to rip apart her closet, and I found most of her remaining clothes in shreds.

I wanted to tear him apart.

I grabbed a duffel bag from her closet and packed what I found still intact—clothes, a few personal items, anything she might need—but I couldn’t bring her back here.

Not until this mess with Claudio got handled.

I drove to the boutique she’d mentioned once—a place she liked, somewhere exclusive. I had a fair concept of the styles she preferred, the softness of the fabrics, and the colors that made her feel comfortable.

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