Page 7 of King Of Order

But it was more than her physicality that rendered her leonine—how she moved through the world with a quiet self-assurance.

Her presence was magnetic, impossible to ignore.

She had an apparent temper and made grand gestures, bending the space around her to her will.

She even growled when she spoke, with a husky purr that got parts of me twitching.

The kind of woman who silenced a room with just her essence, her beauty sharp and untamed.

She embodied wildness wrapped in elegance—a lioness in human form, fierce and beautiful at once.

ThankDio, my groin was hidden from view by her desk, for under it, I was hard as a rock and fighting to keep my chest from heaving.

Caught in a maelstrom of savage desire and a deep loathing for Miss Tirone and what she embodied.

She had no clue who I was.

But I’d never forgotten who she was.

Fifteen years and a spell at a luxury personalized care facility paid by Don Tirone had cleaned her up almost too well.

I don’t know what I’d expected after all this time.

This sophisticated beauty in a couture dress, high six-inch heels, and a lithe body was not it.

I smirked, for she was in my purview and would soon pay, in a painful, grotesque method and time of my liking, for her crimes against my parents and family.

‘A drink, perhaps, to calm you down?’

I didn’t wait for her to respond.

I rose and strode to what I recognized as a limited edition Bellini Sideboard, a masterpiece of timeless elegance and sophisticated design.

It figured. Chiara was a high-flying collector who bought and sold art and premium collectibles worldwide.

I reached into the stunning piece finished in an antique brass cladding.

The furniture reflected her tastes: luxurious, warm patinas, refined opulence, and a minimalist aesthetic.

Which mirrored mine.

I refused to be impressed.

Instead, I withdrew a snifter of whiskey and lifted it for her approval.

‘It’s the one I keep for my most esteemed art gallery clients,’ she murmured, nodding.

‘Perfetto.’

I found glasses and poured out two tots into the waiting crystal tumblers.

While I did, I closed my eyes for a beat, face canted from her as memories of the past rushed into the present.

My stomach twisted, bile rose in my mouth, and I had to press my lips and swallow to stop from gagging as the nightmare that had haunted me for years resurfaced.

Fotto!

Chapter 3

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